“As heir, I understand our parents’ being anxious for you to wed. It is logical.” My case was entirely different. I did not need to wed. The future of the family title did not rest on me.
Russell rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, I am well aware of myduty.” He said the last word in a voice similar to Father’s but more mocking than anything. “It is not as though the line shall end if I decide to remain a bachelor. I have two younger brothers, do I not? And Heaven knows Rowe would make a far better viscount than I will.”
“That is because Rowe is self-motivated about tending to his estate and those relying on him.” After inheriting everything from our uncle, Rowe had poured his entire soul into managing his new assets. I had never seen anyone so dedicated, though it was hardly surprising. Rowe had always been more studious and thoughtful than Russell.
“Father is alive,” Russell countered. “He is here to manage Kenwick and our other holdings. I see no reason to step into his shoes until—” Russell blinked, a sheen of moisture coating his eyes. “Until circumstance requires it of me.”
The comment left the air in the room too heavy for more conversation. Despite what he said, I knew Russell had been spending hours in the library looking over our family’s holdings and familiarizing himself with the ledgers. He claimed he had time, but his actions betrayed his words. Father did not have much time left, and Russell only attempted to hide his concern. He only pretended his negligence. I suspected it was his way of dealing with the impending grief, and my heart hurt for him.
Russell left shortly after, abandoning much of his food as I had done. I remained long enough to finish a cup of tea before returning to my chamber to gather my gloves and pelisse.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs in the vestibule, I halted when shouts echoed from the floor above and a door slammed. Jack appeared moments later, taking the stairs at a hasty pace.
“Jack, is everything—”
“Fine,” he spat, edging past me. He stormed out the door before our butler could even open it for him.
Another fight with Father. This was not the first time Jack had departed in a rage and likely would not be the last. Their discord pained me, especially with how little time we had left with Father. I had come to the conclusion that, despite the animosity between them, Jack cared; otherwise, he would not have cut his time on the continent short to return home. Certainly, it had been at Mother’s request, but he had never been one to heed either of our parents unless he wished to. I had hoped he and Father could mend things now that Jack had returned, but it did not seem that would happen.
I sighed and made my way outside. With the sky absent of clouds, the sun warmed me as I followed the path through the gardens toward The Towers. I walked through the archway and continued east to the property boundary.
When I first left the castle, I had considered visiting the ruins. The place had always provided my mind with a safe respite, something I sorely needed at present. But I doubted the ruins could offer me that today, not when the thoughts I wished to escape revolved around the very man who only yesterday had joined me there. How would I ever wander between the crumbling walls again without thinking of Edward? About his cause?
About Father’s reason for inviting him here.
No, I would not go to the ruins. What I needed was a reminder of why I had chosen to forgo marriage in the first place. I needed to visit Margaret.
Leaves crunched beneath my boots as I followed the path beyond the edge of our estate. When I passed the place I had found Edward’s horse days ago, my eyes eagerly sought any sign of him before I chided myself. I nearly passed Margaret’s cottage entirely, so distracted and frustrated was I with my wandering thoughts.
Approaching cautiously, I rapped lightly on the door, saying a silent prayer that Mr. Wilcot was not at home. The door swung open, revealing Margaret’s butler, and I did not miss the relief that swept through his expression upon taking me in.
“Miss Apsley,” he said with a bow. “You are here to see Mrs. Wilcot?”
I nodded. “Presuming she is not otherwise engaged.”
The phrase was the same one I used each time I visited Margaret, and her butler understood what I truly meant by it.
“He is not here,” the man confirmed. He gestured me inside, then asked me to wait until he ascertained whether Margaret would see me. She agreed, and I was led into the drawing room, a space decorated in varying hues of blue wallpaper that gave an air of springtime despite the colored leaves outside the window.
“Annette!” Margaret pulled me into a tight embrace. “It is so good to see you. I know it has only been a few days, but I have been dying to hear how you fared with your lieutenant."
My cheeks heated as she released me. “He is notmylieutenant.”
“But he could be.” She waggled her brows, and when I blushed more, she tilted her head, intrigue lighting her eyes. “I meant that in jest, but given your heightened color, I must wonder if there is some truth in it.”
“No,” I said too hastily. “I have no understanding with the lieutenant.”
Margaret narrowed her eyes. “Would you like to have an understanding with him?”
Would I? Weeks ago, my answer would have been a resounding no, but now…
Drat it all. I had not come here to be persuaded toward matrimony. “My father seems to think we would make a good match. He confessed that it was his reason for inviting Edward in the first place.”
Margaret smiled saucily. “Edward, is it?”
Drat.
“Lieutenant Paget,” I corrected, averting my gaze.
