“Last I knew he went to Derbyshire for the month.”
Her heart sank even further. It was one thing to travel to Mayfair for a mea culpa, but Derbyshire would take a little more planning. “It’s just as well,” she sighed. “Better I have time to think this through.”
Besides, even if Will hadn’t proposed merely out of obligation, his feelings could certainly have changed after her cold rejection.
You are obviously only doing this out of some misplaced sense of honor. So let me assure you, unequivocally, that it is not necessary. Nor is it welcome.
Phoebe cringed. She needed to do this right. But first she needed to figure out just what it was she wanted.
“Why don’t you go to Surrey for a bit,” Alex gently suggested. “It would be good for you to get out of the city.”
Phoebe thought about her lonely little flat and the long, aimless days that stretched ahead of her. “Yes, I think I will.”
“I’ll tell Father tonight. I know he’s been thinking of taking the Ericsons there for some shooting at the end of the month, but it will be empty until then.”
“Perhaps you and Freddie could come and stay too,” Phoebe said shyly. “It would be nice, us all together.”
Alex broke into a wide smile. “That’s a marvelous idea. Come back to Park House with me. Then we can tell everyone together.”
Phoebe rose from her chair. “All right.” For the first time in ages, she looked forward to going home. Phoebe clung to that warm, comforting feeling while she waited for Alex to gather her things. Then they walked down the hall arm in arm. As they passed by their father’s dark office, Alex turned to her.
“You know,” she began. “He still keeps those candies you always liked in his desk.”
“Oh? I didn’t know he liked them too.”
“I’ve never seen him touch the stuff,” Alex sniffed. “No, I think he keeps them there for you. Just in case you ever come to visit.”
Phoebe swallowed against the lump that had formed in her throat. “Well, then I will,” she rasped. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Alex smile.
“Glad to hear it.”
Twenty-Six
After a few days in Surrey, Will found his rhythm in the slower pace of the country. He still awoke at dawn, but now instead of hurrying to get dressed and prepare for an onslaught of activities, Will enjoyed a simple meal of tea and toast while leisurely reading. Since the London papers didn’t arrive until the afternoon, he began starting his day with a bit of a novel instead. He had fallen out of the habit of reading fiction years ago, but Cal had practically forced the first Inspector Dumond novel into Will’s hands and he quickly devoured it before moving on to the next.
Cal was usually up by nine and they breakfasted together while discussing their plans for the day, after which they each retreated to their separate areas of the house: Cal in the library and Will in the upstairs sitting room, as there was a small writing desk underneath a window that looked out over the back garden. Will often lost himself gazing at the lawn below, his thoughts floating between business, Cal’s future, his mother, and the remnants of his personal life.
Sometimes they had luncheon together, but not always. Then once Will had caught up on all the work he had neglected in the morning, he would take a rambling afternoon walk. Back in London, he spent most of his days cooped up inside various elegantlyappointed rooms, but they couldn’t compete with good English countryside.
Upon returning, he would wash up and join Cal for supper followed by a quiet evening in the parlor.
“Perhaps you should spend more time here,” Cal replied one morning when Will announced that he couldn’t remember the last time he felt so at ease, nor slept so soundly.
But that was impossible. Aside from the never-ending demands of the dukedom, the Atkinsons’ property bordered their own. More than once he had inadvertently wandered to the top of the small hill that overlooked the inviting Georgian manor house, with its heavy boughs of wisteria framing the main entrance and curling lengths of ivy growing up the walls. It was nearly as familiar to him as his own childhood home. But even gazing at it from a safe distance still caused his heart to lurch.
No. He could not stay here.
Besides, Will had a country home of his own—several, in fact. Though none of them really felt like his. They were full of dusty antiques and family heirlooms that held no meaning for him. Will was simply the guardian of these properties and this title until it passed on to the next duke. But by God if he had a son Will would do everything in his power to keep it from becoming an albatross around the boy’s neck.
“Perhaps,” Will replied before changing the subject to the weather. It wasn’t the subtlest of responses, but Cal didn’t press him on it.
Later that day Father Lloyd, the new vicar, came to luncheon. He was a nice, quiet chap with a thin frame and hair as pale as cornsilk who put a gleam in Cal’s eye that Will hadn’t seen in years. It seemed a good idea to give the two of them time to visit alone, so once theplates were cleared, Will excused himself and went off on his daily ramble. This time he made sure to head in the opposite direction of the Atkinsons’ house, least his rebellious feet carry him there again.
Though spending more time at home was out of the question, Will did like the idea of being closer to Cal. Perhaps he could find a little place away from the London fishbowl and without the hefty ducal expectations that came with visiting his estates. A tidy cottage that had no need for a dozen servants to keep it running. A place where he could have true peace and privacy. A place where he could just be… himself. The thought spurred him onward and for the first time in weeks, he felt genuinely excited about something. Will crested another hill and stopped to catch his breath. As he scanned the verdant swells and dales before him, his eyes lit on something below.
The brook.
Will tugged on his collar and let out a sigh of envy. Would he were still a lad with the freedom to take an impromptu swim.
