Edmund, however, was ensuring he didn’t have any free time.
“It’s imperative you travel to Doncaster Hall, Your Lordship,” Edmund said now, turning from his study of the bookshelf, his equilibrium evidently restored. “Will you have time before the wedding?”
“No,” he said, sitting back in his chair. “In fact, I require your assistance in obtaining a special license. I’ve been assured that, despite the fact I’m an American, there will be no difficulty.”
Edmund nodded. “Would I know the young woman?”
Montgomery met the other man’s eyes. “She’s the Earl of Conley’s niece,” he said. “Is he familiar to you?”
Edmund closed his eyes, then opened them, as if he’d had a file of faces and names behind his lids. “Three daughters,” he said. “Two sons. An estate in Hampshire, quite a prosperous one, and a reputation for being a bully in the House of Lords.”
“He knew who I was,” Montgomery said.
“He would, Your Lordship, being on the committee that approved your petition.”
“Your memory’s quite impressive.”
“I spend some time in London, Your Lordship.”
Montgomery nodded, then concentrated on the stack of papers he still had to sign.
“There are many decisions you need to make, Your Lordship.”
Carefully, he put the pen back in its holder, sat back, and folded his arms.
“Is that going to go on forever?”
At Edmund’s look of confusion, he smiled.
“The Your Lordship business. We’ve known each other for three months, Edmund. We traveled from America together.You know everything there is to know about my life. Can we not dispense with the title?”
“If I’ve given offense, Your Lordship, then I apologize deeply.” Edmund bowed, another gesture almost as irritating as the constant spouting of his title. “I believe in giving respect where it’s due, Your Lordship. You’re the 11thLord Fairfax of Doncaster, and I have a duty to treat you accordingly.”
Montgomery knew all about duty.Dutywas a word that made him do something he didn’t want to do. Duty was the hook at the bottom of his conscience dragging him from place to place. Duty gave him courage, a kind of fearlessness that, when viewed in retrospect, was insane.
He was damned tired of duty. Duty, however, had evidently not yet tired of him.
Montgomery nodded, pulling the stack of papers toward him. He reread a clause on one contract written in a type of English that hadn’t been spoken in two centuries.
If Edmund hadn’t been annoying him so much, Montgomery would have asked him for a quick version of what he was reading, but he stubbornly refused to, stumbling through the passages himself until he realized it was an attainder.
“Doncaster Hall is entailed to my son or daughter,” he said, glancing over at Edmund.
“In Scotland, women are not necessarily prevented from inheriting.”
“Nor are they in America.”
“You’ll find there are many similarities between America and Scotland, Your Lordship,” Edmund said. “It is, after all, the mother country of the Fairfax family.”
“My grandfather still had the brogue,” he said. “I remember wishing I could speak like him.”
He made a neat stack of the papers and handed them to Edmund, who took them and placed them in his leather valise.
“Will you be ordering more supplies today, Your Lordship?”
Montgomery had spent the last month ordering bolts of silk, leather ropes, and securing the efforts of a few dozen craftsmen. Edmund, however, had not once asked why Montgomery needed a basket woven in an oval shape, and ten feet long. Nor had he ever questioned why Montgomery had met with a metalworker, spending a few hours in earnest discussions with the man over the design of a fan.
Edmund, evidently, had no adventure in his soul.
