Perhaps it was time for her monthlies.
That was likely the case.
At least Crandall had located him this morning.
Marcus sat atop his mount, freshly shaven, well dressed with a perfectly tied cravat despite sporting a massive headache he thoroughly deserved.
Perfect day for travel.
Today he would set foot on his father’s estate again for the first time in ten years. The nostalgic yearnings surprised him. Memories of running wild as a very young boy. And then the strict regimen of lessons.
Resenting those lessons with a vengeance.
Being born the heir to a duke shortened one’s childhood considerably.
Hating his father was something he’d come to do unconsciously. Like putting on one’s shoes, or… breathing.
And if his father wasn’t the villain he’d believed him to be? Then what?
Picturing the man taunting him, on more than one occasion, Marcus wondered if Meggie’s disappearance had merely given him a convenient excuse to hate the man.
“I thought you and Lady Blakely had reconciled.” Stephen Nottingham jolted Marcus out of his musings as he rode up from behind.
“Ah,” Were they reconciled? He would have thought that they were after the apology they’d shared yesterday. “I believe we are.”
“Huh.” Stephen patted the side of his mount’s neck and then eyed him skeptically. “Damnit, Marcus. I’d appreciate it if you would remember that your wife is a dear friend to mine. When you’ve done something untoward toward Lady Blakely, I’m bound to hear of it.”
“What have you heard?” Damned blathering women.
“That’s the trouble of it. Cecily tells me only that Emily is not herself today. My wife is concerned for your wife. Damnit. I don’t appreciate my wife having to be concerned over how my oldest friend, practically my brother, treats her dearest of friends.”
Whereas any other person in the world speaking these words to him would merely inflame his anger, to hear them from Stephen…
Marcus shook his head. “I don’t know how to go about this marriage business. I never planned on marrying and now that I have, I’m discovering it’s all rather complicated.”
Stephen chortled. “Women are complicated.”
“God help me.” Marcus rolled his shoulders. “I don’t know where to begin.” He’d meant the words to come out jokingly, but instead, they rang rather pathetic.
“They notice things. Things you and I wouldn’t think about in a thousand years.” Stephen glanced over his shoulder toward the carriage, as though ascertaining his wife wasn’t going to hear his complaint. “And God help me, they feel emotions you and I would swear don’t even exist.”
Marcus couldn’t help but agree. “Emily.” He had no idea where to begin explaining the issues he had with his new wife. “I rather believe she breaks the mold where women are concerned.”
Stephen laughed ruefully again. “The truth is, they all do. Just when you think you’ve got them figured out…” Marcus glanced over in time to see something of a besotted look cross his good friend’s features. “They surprise you. And, Marcus?”
“What?”
“Those damn surprises. They’re my reason for living.”
Marcus swallowed hard. Images of Emily taunting him. Of all the silliness she’d introduced into his life. The laughter. Her own ironic flair for passion.
He could almost understand about the surprises.
“What of the unwanted ones?” Marcus felt compelled to ask.
“Worth it.” Stephen smiled ruefully. “Every damn one of ’em.”
Meet the Parents
