He sighed. How could he disappoint three of his favorite females at the same time?
Colin hung his head. A house party meant people, and knowing Honoria, eligible women. She’d been hinting—not so subtly—that he should consider remarrying. That was the problem with happily married people; they wanted everyone else to join them.
Moments later, Ellie raced back in, bringing reinforcements with her in the person of his nine-year-old daughter, Cassandra.
“Is it true, Papa, or is Ellie bamming me? Are we truly going to a party at Aunt Honoria’s and Uncle Drake’s?”
“We’ve been invited. That’s true.” Perhaps he could still wiggle his way out.
“Please, Papa. Please may we go?” A much younger image of his late wife, Cassandra pierced him with her dark-brown eyes. “Uncle Drake promised to give me riding lessons.”
“You already know how to ride,” he reminded her. He’d taught her himself.
“But Uncle Drake knows tricks! And I do like Mr. Beckham. He’s so funny.”
“Don’t forget Uncle Drake’s Aunt Kitty,” Ellie added.
“She is Lady Gryffin to you, Ellie. You too, Cassie. You both must show the countess respect.”
“Aunt Kittytoldus to call her that.” Ellie crossed her arms over her thin body. Had she always been so delicate? A shiver slid down his spine. Unusual for midsummer. Visions of Margery wasting away with consumption, becoming so frail he feared she would break in two, bombarded his mind.
Was Ellie becoming ill, too? He pushed the unthinkable aside. He’d been careful to protect the girls, only allowing them to see their mother for brief periods and only on her better days. Toward the end, when Margery’s coughing spells had lasted hours, against thegirls’ protests and under the Duke of Ashton’s advice, he’d kept them away entirely.
But it had been three years. Three long years. Surely, the disease had released its death grip on his family.
The girls waited—patiently. How could he deprive them when their lives had been so fraught with grief?
“Please, Papa,” Cassie pleaded again.
Fine. He couldn’t fight them all. He would make an appearance with the girls, stay a few days to satisfy Honoria, and then find a legitimate—or perhaps a contrived—excuse to return home to his sanctuary.
“Well, I suppose we can go for?—”
Both girls launched themselves into his arms, smothering his face with kisses.
“You’re the best papa in the whole world!” Ellie said, then placed one final kiss on his cheek.
“The whole universe!” Cassie said.
The idea his daughter understood about the universe elicited a rare chuckle, the sound foreign to his ears.
Ellie climbed onto his lap. “When can we go?”
“The party is in two weeks.”
At Ellie’s pout, he added, “But I suppose I can write to your Aunt Honoria and ask if we may arrive early. Once Parliament has ended its session, they should arrive at Hartridge House shortly after.” He gently slipped Ellie off his lap. “Now, off with you both! I have work to do.”
As his daughters scampered off to plot more mischief, Colin sank back in his chair. Perhaps a house party wouldn’t be too terribly bad. If Honoria began throwing eligible misses his way, he would seek either Burwood’s or Mr. Beckham’s assistance to rescue him. And surely he wouldn’t be the only eligible man attending, would he?
It might actually be pleasant being around people again. Perhaps there would be a fox hunt, or some fencing practice with one of the other gentlemen. Or a rousing game of cards.
Yes, he could do this.
What’s the worst that could happen?
CHAPTER 2
As promised, Colin wrote to his sister, accepting her invitation. He received her reply four days later.
