Chapter Thirty-One
Lord Kendrick, Duke of Alton
“It is time to say farewell.” I kissed my mother on the cheek and gave her a hug. It might not be fashionable to reveal my emotions in public, but I didn’t care. Society rules often stifled creativity. In my world, I equated affection with inspiration.
“I’ll miss you, dear boy.” She held me a little longer than normal before she released me. The wide brim of her navy hat was askew, and I adjusted the angle.
Colt was escorting Lillian off the ship while I said my final goodbyes. I wished to speak with my mother alone and assure myself she wasn’t blind to what was in front of her. Reverend Lowe. In some ways, she was like Lillian. She’d no faith in her self-worth.
The ship rocked, and I planted my heels into the planked deck. “Before I go, I have deemed it my duty to offer you some advice for once.”
“You wish to offer me advice?” She lifted one arched brow, a quizzical gleam in her eyes.
“Some very sage advice, if I do say so myself.” A smile spread across my lips despite my will to keep my amusement in check. It was usually me listening to her, not the other way around. What a strange turn life often took. The tables were rarely turned between us. She’d guided me in the right direction most of thetime. There had been stumbles on the way, but we persevered. “It is about Lowe.”
Her expression fell, and she glanced over her shoulder at the gentleman in deep discussion with Lord Tapper. “Has he offended you?”
I shook my head, quick to reassure her. “No, on the contrary. He is a very agreeable gentleman.”
Rosiness cast a soft glow over her face at my statement. It was more than apparent that she liked the man. “I agree. I assume you have a point?”
“Yes, I do. My point is you have a potential beau, and I don’t want to see you pass up an opportunity to allow his courtship.”
The blush deepened, and she placed a hand on her neck. The fashionable lace shirt was fastened with a cameo of my grandmother. She fiddled with the ivory, hesitation in her gaze. “He has simply been kind to me.”
“A man doesn’t look at a woman like he looks at you because he is kind. He is smitten. Why, during our conversation just now, he spoke of nothing but your goodness,” I said. Lowe had been very vocal in his admiration of my mother and had asked, in a roundabout way, if she were enamored of anyone. I had assured him she was not.
“He is a vicar. He speaks that way about everyone.” Her knuckles on the cameo whitened, showing her uncertainty over my observation.
“I’m sure he is solicitous to most, but he is enamored of you and with good reason.” It became imperative that I get her to understand what she would miss out on. My judgment could be off, but I was usually a good arbiter of character. I liked Lowe, and I wanted her to at least try to find someone new to love, someone who treated her with respect and not condemnation. “I don’t wish to push you in his direction if you are opposed, but I think you need to allow him to prove himself to you.”
Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, her bottom lip quivering. “You are sure he, um, is interested in me romantically?”
“I can tell you with emphatic confidence that he is interested in Helen the woman, but it isn’t my life to live, Mother. It is yours. You have done your duty and married off your son. It’s time for you to find happiness.” I clasped her hands in mine and held them tight. “You needn’t jump in headfirst. Perhaps just dip a toe in the waters and see if you wish to take the plunge.”
She smiled at my teasing, the tiny lines around her eyes creasing. “I’ll try for you.”
“Don’t try for me. Try for yourself.” I lifted her hand and gave it a perfunctory kiss. “I shall leave you to it. I love you.”
“You are my heart,” she said with great affection.
“Safe travels, Mother.” I trotted down the plank, pleased I had taken the opportunity to have a discussion with her on matters of the heart. My own was in turmoil. I desired Lillian and Colt. Our play in the boudoir was the best I could recall, but it was temporary.
A couple of workers were lingering on the long, planked dock, coiling the thick rope that moored the ship. I was the last guest to depart. With my status as duke, the captain hadn’t rushed me, although the constant toot of the whistle had given me a broad hint.
Carriages, pedestrians, and dray wagons lined the streets, a festiveness in the air. The steamship was more impressive viewed from the ground. I would forever carry a fondness for theHMS Bonfireand made a mental note to book passage on it for my first anniversary with Lillian.
The ducal crest was emblazoned on the side of a shiny black carriage, the red-painted wheels splattered with mud. While it wasn’t raining, the skies were overcast. A groom met me at thedoor and offered a bow in recognition. “Your Grace. Her grace and Sir Colt are awaiting your arrival.”
