“She will see you, Your Grace,” Mrs. Clove said, her words cutting through his thoughts.
“Thank you.”
He reluctantly entered the bedchamber. His grandmother was seated by the window with a book. She always read by the window at this time.
“Tea!” his grandmother exclaimed. “We must have tea.”
“I shall fetch it at once,” Mrs. Clove said.
The woman left, and Lewis sank into a chair near his grandmother. She tapped her fingers on her chair, always five beats. “You were supposed to come yesterday,” she said. “And you did not. Now, you have come today, and something bad will happen.”
“I was occupied with another matter,” Lewis said, “but I can assure you that nothing bad will happen.”
“You cannot know that.”
Lewis fought down his instinctive frustration, as the weight of his own inadequacies fell upon his shoulders. He was too short-tempered to treat his grandmother as she ought to be treated, and he loathed himself for it.
“I do know,” he said calmly. “Nothing bad has ever happened before, and nothing bad will happen this time.”
She sighed and repeated his words in a dull monotone. “Nothing bad has ever happened before, and nothing bad will happen this time.”
“Correct.”
Slowly, his grandmother relaxed in her chair. “I—I do not mind you coming on a different day,” she said. “It is good to see you.”
“I am glad.” He paused, considering her soft expression for a moment. “I would like you to come live with me.”
She inhaled sharply. “No! I cannot. I must stay here. Your house is too big, and there is too much space. There are too many places for intruders to hide.”
“What about the countryside?” he asked. “There are no intruders there, and my country estate is not especially large.”
“No,” she said. “No, there is still too much space there, and everything would be different from here. I need everything to stay just as it is.”
Lewis suspected that his grandmother also wanted him nearby, and given his preference for London, it would be impossible for him to see her often in Yorkshire. “I understand,” Lewis said.
Mrs. Clove returned with tea and biscuits, and Lewis sipped his tea idly, while his grandmother regaled him with bits of news about how she’d spent her day. She did not say anything of any particular interest to him, for all her days were the same, but her face brightened when she talked about what she had done.
“I do want to explain the reason for my delay,” he said suddenly.
She blinked at him, seemingly taken aback, and Lewis suspected that he had spoken more strongly than he had intended. But he had already thrown the metaphorical gauntlet, so it was best to see the matter through.
“I have decided that it is time that I take a wife, and we are to be married tomorrow.”
His grandmother’s eyes widened. “Tomorrow?” she whispered. “So soon?”
“Yes,” he said.
“What is she like?” she asked.
Lewis frowned. What was the best way to describe his young bride-to-be to his ailing grandmother? He certainly could notbe entirely honest, or the poor woman might well expire on the spot.
“She is a beautiful and romantic girl.” Glancing at his grandmother’s book, he added, “She enjoys a good novel. I imagine the two of you would have a lively conversation.”
Assuming that Lady Bridget could learn to be a proper wife, that was.
“Oh,” the Dowager Duchess said. “That is good.”
“Yes,” he said. “She is quite eager to meet you as well. Lady Bridget is a lively thing, very sociable. Amicable.”
