Bold as ever, hisMaman.
“Miss Mowry and I were discussing the topic just yesterday on our tour about the Abbey—what it is we each find most appealing about marriage,” he answered.
“Oh?” The Duchess raised a brow. “How intriguing. Do continue, Roland.”
“Perhaps Miss Mowry would like to continue instead?” He cast the young lady a look.
She demurred. “Goodness no, Lord Wellesley. Her grace posedyouthe question, sir, not me.”
She outmaneuvered nicely; not a bad trait.
“Well I, for one, consider the best part of matrimony to spell the end ofunexpectedvisits.” He watched the Duchess flinch. “That and of course bedding my virgin bride.”
His mother’s face contorted. “Roland, I did not raise you to be an ill-mannered boor!”
“You certainly did not, Mother. My apologies, Miss Mowry.” He peeked at the young lady, whose cheeks bloomed scarlet.
“Shall I tell her what you told me yesterday, miss?” He forged ahead, not waiting for her answer. “Miss Mowry, rightfully so, looks forward to the protection of a man’s title and, of course, his fortune.” His mother’s face now positively glowered. “She does not mind in the least if her husband takes a mistress and otherwise ignores her entirely,” he finished.
“My lord!” the young lady protested.
“Roland, enough!” His mother’s fist clenched the tablecloth. “Were you not a grown man I’d?—”
“What,Maman, have me paddled? Send me to bed without dinner? I need neither your approval nor your affection anymore, and as I am master of my own house and own life, I think it is time you and Miss Mowry took yourselves back to London and let me be. You may report to Father that I am doing my best to restore his beloved Abbey and that I intend to live out the rest of my days here in Cumberland serving its people as their Duke—with or without a duchess.”
Miss Mowry looked ready to faint into her plate, yet being trained rigorously to preserve the peace at all cost, proceeded to defuse the tension as best she could.
She really would make a good duchess.
“Lord Wellesley,” she interjected, “would you be so kind as to show me the exterior of Almsdale Abbey today, to complete our tour?” Her eyes begged him to behave. “I should like to see the grounds and do not mind donning boots. The sun appears even to shine a little,” she pleaded.
He took pity on the girl. “Of course, Miss Mowry, happy to oblige.” He gave her a pinched smile. “Allow me to see to a few matters first, and within the hour I shall be at your disposal.”
“Thank you, sir.” She wanly smiled back.
Mamanopened her mouth as if to speak but must have determined silence more golden in the moment. She shut it just as fast.
Wells, meanwhile, returned to his plate of food and ignored both women for the remainder of breakfast. He had a great many things on his mind more important than marriage.
Later, as they strolled arm in arm outside the Abbey, Miss Mowry felt slight beside Wells; she was half a head shorter than Charles, though her figure was shapely enough. He was pondering his situation again, only half listening to her prattle on about London. Forever bloody London.
“. . . and I assume you’ve been to Gunter’s in Mayfair, my lord, at Berkeley Square?”
“I have indeed, Miss Mowry, it is a fine establishment.”
“I do so love their tarts, don’t you?” She smiled prettily.
“Yes, who doesn’t love a good tart?” He smirked but was immediately bored. Conversation with this lady was an arduous pursuit. It did not meanshewas arduous. That would be unfair. She’d merely been hampered and pampered like every other debutante he knew, making her, well, tedious. Why did women think naïveté an attractive trait?
“Will you visit London again this season, sir?” She sounded hopeful.
“No, Miss Mowry, I’ve sworn off society for good. I intend to make Cumberland my permanent home now.”
“But surely you will keep a townhouse?”
“No, I think not. I intend to settle fully here. The climate and environs suit me.”
“I see.”
