“Tell the rest of thetonthat.”
Morington snorted. “I would if I cared to interact with them. They are like hounds on a fox hunt, desperate to find some prey to tear to pieces. I can think of little more disgraceful than ruining a young lady over something so absurd.”
“I do not disagree, but I am pleased with the result.”
“Yes. I have seen Lady Bridget, and she is a rare beauty. You are quite fortunate to have her.”
“Yes.”
Her beauty was important, but her age more so. Lady Bridget was young enough to learn her place, to learn how to behave. She showed more defiance than he might like, but it was the defiance of youth and wildness caused by a brother who did not care to discipline her. It was not the defiance of a woman who was determined to have her way or worse, a woman who schemed.
A foolish woman could learn. A selfish or scheming one could not.
“I will need to train her to survive at Wheelton,” Lewis continued.
“That would have been true regardless of who you chose to wed,” Morington said. “I have never seen any household run quite like yours.”
“For good reason.”
Lewis finished his drink and held the glass loosely with his fingertips, imagining instead that he was grasping the back of Lady Bridget’s neck once more, his thumb stroking those strands of damp, red-gold hair.
“Aside from her scandals, she does not seem especially troublesome,” Morington noted.
“I am not entirely certain that is true,” Lewis replied thoughtfully. “But it is difficult to say. The young lady has made it clear that she does not have a high opinion of me. She is marrying me out of necessity, after all.”
“Most women marry out of necessity,” Morington said, waving a dismissive hand. “Men, too.”
“Indeed. Sometimes, it is enough to make me wonder if I might be happier if I abandoned my title and chose instead to live as a shepherd in the fields.”
Morington furrowed his brow. “My friend, I wish sometimes that you would show a little more feeling when you speak. I am uncertain if you intend for that to be in jest.”
Lewis forced a small grin. “Of course, I mean it in jest. Shepherds do not have fine spirits, such as this!”
“The scotch is extraordinary,” Morington agreed, taking a sip of his own drink. “And the ladies. I have yet to see a shepherdess as beautiful as a woman of theton.”
“And have you seen many shepherdesses?”
Morington winked. “On stage, I have.”
Lewis shook his head. “Somehow, I doubt actual shepherdesses resemble actresses on a stage.”
“Oh, ye of little faith.”
Lewis rolled back his shoulders and let himself relax just a little. The scotch had done its work and managed to loosen the tightly wound knot of his nerves. The day did not seem quite as impossible as it had. If anything, it seemed almost as if it had been adequate.
Not good, but…
Adequate. Controllable, rather than chaotic. Even better, he had managed to find a duchess, which meant one less matter that he needed to tend to in the future.
“We shall have to find you a wife next,” Lewis said.
Morington hummed. “I suppose so. I can scarcely believe that you are married before I am! And to such a lovely woman.”
“Yes.”
“Her family is good, too.”
“Respectable.”
