“I have received a letter,” her father announced.
“Well? From whom? What does it say?” Margaret asked.
“It is a letter from the Duke of Exeter,” he began with a chuckle at his wife’s curiosity. Gemma could not help the family of butterflies that had been set free in her stomach at the mention of Lothar having sent a letter.
Would you calm down?Gemma’s mind tried in vain to calm her down.It could just be for business. Father is, after all,one of the best businessmen I have ever come across. He might simply want his advice.
“He has asked my permission to engage in a courtship with you,” her father went on with a smile.
Alright. Perhaps this may not be about business after all, Gemma thought, as her heart beat at an almost sickening pace.
Chapter 6
I need him to understand this as more of a business arrangement,Lothar thought as he was led to the study at the Castwell residence. He had left as early as was appropriate to meet with Gemma’s father, and he had been expected, and welcomed. It was a good sign yet did little to calm his nerves.
Meeting with a woman’s father to ask to court their daughter had not been something Lothar had done very much in the past. What made his nerves more frayed was the fact that he cared more for his answer than he had ever cared when courting Henny. He had thought he had known what attraction was. Until Gemma, he had only known the very tip of the iceberg.
I have to convince Mr. Castwell. If it means I shall have to resort to begging, then so be it,Lothar thought, with less pride and more determination than he had experienced before.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Castwell,” Lothar greeted the older gentleman first. “Lothar Howard, sir.”
“Andrew Castwell. Good afternoon, Your Grace,” he replied and shook Lothar’s hand. Lothar noted his firm handshake and liked it. Men who limply grabbed your hand were considered untrustworthy and weak.
“Thank you for seeing me today, sir. As you must know from my letter, this is quite time-sensitive,” Lothar said, hoping it would show how earnest he was.
“Indeed, Your Grace. Please do take a seat,” Mr. Castwell said as he went to his drinks cart. “A Whiskey, Your Grace?”
“Yes, please, sir,” Lothar replied with a grateful smile. Andrew prepared two crystal glasses. When Andrew poured the whiskey, Lothar could see it was a rich mixture of amber and brown, a clear indication of quality.
Lothar had already felt intimidated by how well-groomed and luxurious the Castwell residence was. When his carriage had arrived, the palatial gardens were almost perfect in how well they were manicured. The main house did not need paint, and he had felt he could safely wager that the roof did not leak.
“Now Your Grace. I must be completely honest with you. I would like to know the reason for your letter, for the sudden interest in my daughter,” Mr. Castwell said before clinking glasses in a toast and taking a large sip of his whiskey.
“Please sir, feel free to address me as Lothar, I feel it is I who should address you with respect as I am a child in comparison to you, sir,” Lothar said in a tone he hoped conveyed his feelings and did not leave Mr. Castwell feeling patronized.
“Very well, you may call me Andrew. Lothar is an interesting name. May I ask about it?
“It means famous warrior, sir. It is German in origin,” Lothar answered.
“A fine name. Gemma is Latin and means a gem. It is what we have considered her from birth, a rare gem.” Andrew said in a tone that seemed to hold a warning.
“How else can one’s family be seen, sir?” Lothar asked.
“Do you truly feel that way, Lothar? Or is it a way to get into my good graces?” Andrew asked with a sudden sternness.
“Yes sir. You will find that I do not say things that I do not mean, not even in anger,” Lothar replied.
“And do you often find that you get angry?” Andrew said, narrowing his blue eyes at him. Lothar then noticed that Andrew had the same pale blue eyes as Gemma. She had also inherited his no-nonsense way of speaking, and perhaps his nose…
Lothar shook himself away from his thoughts of Gemma. He had learned in the short while they had been apart that he could think of little else but her and that he was blind to the world when doing so.
Get it together. You can hardly plead that your thoughts of his daughter have turned your brain to mud. Lothar thought as he focused on Andrew’s words.
“No sir. If memory serves me correctly, I last lost my temper at a hunter as a teen,” Lothar joined in the conversation, happy that it seemed he had not missed something vital.
“That far back? Really? Do tell me what happened.” Andrew asked.
Lothar explained the background story of what had happened. “I had been hunting for three years at the time. My father William, may he rest in peace, taught me; first how to clean a gun and then how to hold the weapon safely. Subsequently, I learned how to use the animals, and the resources gained from hunting them. The very last thing I learned was to fire the weapon. My father would always have his hunting rifle ready when I was doing so.
