“And a good thing that Colin loves him, too. I am the only one in the family that seems to have an aversion to the annoying—” Henry faced her, the corners of his mouth turning down. Hewidened his eyes as he let his words fall. “Louisa, we are not talking about Prince. We are discussing what you plan to do with the duke’s proposal.”
Drat. And she had almost gotten away with it.
Unable to sit still any longer, she stood, walking a few paces away to stare out the window. “The season is almost over. Perhaps I can run away to Tunbridge a few weeks early.”
Henry walked up beside her, shaking his head. “Nonsense. You must give the man an answer.”
“But what if my answer wreaks havoc on our family? On you and Violet and little Colin?” She turned toward him, her chest burning. Her love of family was overwhelming at times, though she did not always do a good job of showing it.
Henry waved her off. “What can he do? We have done nothing wrong.”
“But what if hedoesfind something and you begin to lose sleep again—”
“Stop right there.” Henry put a hand on her shoulder, turning her to face him. “You are not going to accept any marriage proposal for my sake. I am a grown man and can handle myself. I have Violet now, and Colin. I am not facing things alone anymore.”
Louisa nudged him with her shoulder. “And you have me.”
He wrapped an arm about her, pulling her head closer to press a brotherly kiss to her temple. “Yes. And you never need to accept a man’s offer for my sake. Only when you find someone who loves you as you deserve. As I love Violet.”
Henry gave Louisa’s arm one last squeeze, smiling at her before dropping his hand and walking from the room.
But his parting words did not settle her nerves. Unbeknownst to him, they only worried her more.
Chapter two
The sound of Robert’sblood coursing through his head filled his ears. To him, it was deafening. To the rest of the world, everything went on as usual.
He rapped the roof of the carriage to signal the coachman to be on his way.
How had that gone so very wrong? He had expected a quick acceptance and to wash his hands of the matter. Now he felt agitated, confused, frustrated, hot, and—to top it all off—deaf from the whooshing still filling his ears.
He was a duke, for goodness’ sake. How could Miss Morgan even entertain the notion of refusing him? It did not matter if they did not have a relationship of sorts before this. It was not uncommon to go into marriage for practical reasons without first knowing the other person closely. In fact, Robert felt the opposite was less common. Not many couples could boast of a romance prior to betrothal.
And the questions. Why so many? Did she need to know why he had proposed? Wasn’t the fact that he had proposed enough?
A thought sprouted in the back of his mind, taking a firm root as it grew. What if Miss Morgan told of his proposal to others? What if it became common knowledge that he had asked for her hand, only to have her refuse him?
He ran his finger along his leg, pressing the tip firmly into his thigh to help ease some of the tension coursing through his extremities. Perhaps tonight, once his mother had gone to bed, he would slip away to work through these feelings. Do the one thing that cleared his head and took him from his stuffy life. His stuffy clothes. His stuffy demeanor. His stuffy house and furniture. If only he could go now, but during the day there were too many prying eyes. It would simply have to wait.
Though waiting was not one of Robert’s strong points. And the fact that he would now have to wait for Miss Morgan to decide was a thorn in his side. How long would it be? A day? A week? Heaven forbid, a month? Perhaps he should have given stipulations for his offer. Though, he really did not wish to look further for a wife. Miss Morgan had the attributes he desired. She knew her mind and held her chin high. Those were qualities a duchess needed to have. And little did she realize, he found her . . . intriguing. No, those dances were not coincidental. He had made his way toward her, carefully studying her and her interactions with others. And what he had discovered was she conversed effortlessly, did not withhold her opinions on matters and, when given, gave them strongly. She did not take offense easily. And the thing he found most intriguing about her . . .
She looked comfortable in her own skin.
Like she knew exactly who she was and what she wished to do and say. Robert found that mesmerizing. But he would take that to his grave. He was not going to be a foolish fop who sprouted off verses and demeaned himself. Instead, he had laid out all the practicalities a marriage to him would provide. His proposal was much like himself. Practical, organized, studious, and notgiven to dramatics. That’s how a life with someoneshouldbegin. A hard foundation of understanding. Not some wobbly ramshackle built on falsely professed love.
The carriage came to a halt, and the coachman opened the door, allowing sunlight to slice across the dark interior. Robert didn’t hesitate, exiting and striding toward the house with purpose. He couldn’t second guess himself or his decisions now. The proposal to Miss Morgan was made. He only hoped she wouldn’t keep him waiting long.
It had been a week, and still no word from Miss Morgan. Robert tapped his foot beneath his heavy wooden desk, removing his spectacles to rub his tired eyes. For a moment, he just stared unfocused at the papers littering the surface. Did he say something wrong during his proposal? It was very possible, but he refused to let the thought fester. No sense in ruminating on a circumstance that was over and done and could not be changed. Instead, he rose from his desk, leaving his uncomfortable spectacles behind as he walked to ease the tension in his legs.
His footsteps tapped out an even rhythm as he wound himself about Stonemoore’s halls. The room Robert had chosen for his study was situated in a place where it could not easily be found by someone who did not know their way around the estate—which suited him quite nicely. While most of thetonchose to have their modest townhouses in the middle of London’s elite neighborhoods, Robert’s great grandfather had made the wise decision to have a more comfortable estate on the outskirts of town. Near enough for ease, but far enough to keep an element of privacy—something a duke often did not get.
Robert was so deep in his own thoughts he did not hear the second set of footsteps until his butler, Brooks, was close enough to reach out and touch his arm.
“Excuse me, Your Grace.” He quickly removed his arm, clearing his throat as he gave a quick bow. “You received a calling card from Lord Wood, and I thought you would like to know about it as soon as possible.”
Robert reached out and took the card, its small size belying the heaviness he felt in his palm as he stared at it. “Thank you, Brooks.” He closed his hand over it, the sharp edges biting into his skin.
The old man said not another word as he turned and left.
