“Well, if you change your mind, you know where we are.” Harriet stood. “We’ll be leaving in the morning after breakfast. Goshawk is beautiful, Lydia. You’d love it.”
“I’ll give it some thought,” Lydia replied, standing also.
“Liar.” Harriet smiled and kissed Lydia’s cheek. “I’ll write, and shall expect a response.”
Lydia nodded. “You’ll have one, Harriet, that I can promise you. Give Lord Eskdale my regards and a kiss each for Sophia and Charles.”
Harriet’s smile faded. “It’s his loss, Lydia. Please don’t let this destroy you.”
“It won’t destroy me,” she replied, lifting her chin. “I was reminded today of who I am. And I am Reginald Page’s daughter.”
Chapter Seventeen
Ambrose had expecteda visit from Edward and had mentally prepared for it. Well, sort of. Despair and disappointment were not easy things to hide, but with the help of some excellent cognac, he endeavored to maintain a reasonable sense of composure when his expectations proved true.
“Will you have one, Eskdale?” he asked, raising the decanter.
“At this hour?” Edward glanced at the clock. “No, thank you.”
“So, what is this about?” Ambrose asked, as if he didn’t know.
“I’m certain that question wasn’t necessary, Pen.” Frowning, Edward leaned forward. “What happened? You and Miss Page seemed perfect for each other. Why did you cast her aside? Both Harriet and I fail to understand it.”
“It’s not complicated.” Ambrose knocked back the cognac he’d been cradling, stood, and went to the sideboard for a refill. “I’ve simply had a change of heart and mind. I regret if my decision appears to have upset Miss Page, but frankly, it could never have worked between us. We are not suited. It is as simple as that.”
“Upset?” Edward cleared his throat. “You didn’t exactly let her down gently, it seems. The girl is heartbroken.”
Ambrose bit down.She appeared to be quite happy Friday last, with him.
“Is there someone else?” Edward continued.
Ambrose’s hand froze on the decanter. Had he spoken out loud? “What do you mean?” he asked, without turning.
“I mean, did you meet someone in Nottingham? Another woman? Is that it?”
Ambrose released a quiet breath of relief. “Not quite,” he replied, pouring a generous measure into his glass. “I merely spent time in the company of my peers who pointed out that my duty as an earl was to marry appropriately. After some consideration, I came to the conclusion that they are correct. I’m obligated to marry well and that is exactly what I intend to do. As for letting the young lady down gently, I didn’t see the point of dragging it out. A clean break is best.” Glass in hand, he went back to his seat. “I also regret if you and the Black Widow are disappointed, but I’m sure Miss Page will not lack for suitors.”
“I don’t think Dove-Lyon is aware of it yet, but I’m sure she’ll be as baffled as I am.” Edward lifted a brow as Ambrose took a mouthful of brandy. “Planning on getting foxed before luncheon, are we?”
Ambrose frowned into his glass. True, he’d been drinking more than usual of late. It helped numb the pain of betrayal. But how to respond?
“All right, I’ll admit it,” Not quite able to meet his friend’s eyes, Ambrose kept his gaze on his drink. “Letting Miss Page go was not easy. Guilty conscience and all that, you know? But it had to be done. She’ll recover. She’s a lovely girl, and I have no doubt she’ll be walking down an aisle in the near future. It just won’t be me waiting at the altar.” He lifted his glass and, at last, his gaze. “As for this stuff, it’s merely a temporary crutch, if you will. Mind if we change the subject now? Or is my abandonment of Miss Page the only reason you’re here?”
“Not the only reason, no.” Edward heaved a sigh. “We’re leaving London tomorrow because Sophia has developed a bit of a cough. The physician doesn’t think it’s anything serious, but suggests some country air would be beneficial, so we’re leaving for Goshawk in the morning. I doubt we’ll be back. At least, not until next year.”
“Damn, Eskdale, I’m sorry,” Ambrose said, with genuine concern. “Who’s the physician?”
“McGuffie.”
“Excellent fellow.”
“Yes, he is.” Edward stood and heaved another sigh. “I have to go. There are things to be taken care of before we leave.”
“I understand.” Glass in hand, Ambrose stood as well. “Keep me informed, will you?”
“Of course.” Edward grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck. “Look, Pen, I’m not a fool. Something about this tale you’re telling doesn’t add up. Frankly, I think it’s a load of bollocks. I also suspect the truth, whatever it may be, is gnawing on your gut. And as for that temporary crutch you have in your hand, I suggest you set it aside before it becomes permanent. Right. End of sermon. I’ll see myself out.” He headed for the door.
The urge to tell all pushed Ambrose to the edge. “Eskdale?”
