Chapter Two
With the scentof Miss Kinsey lingering upon his arm and a plethora of new knowledge regarding the keeping of chickens filling his mind, Lewis Bradford entered the study of his friend, Viscount Howell.
“Take a seat,” said the viscount, gesturing to a plush leather armchair at the side of the room. He took up position at an angle to Lewis, half-sitting against the edge of his desk so that his tall frame still towered over his guest.
Lewis did not take offense at this seemingly ungenial stance. It was merely force of habit. Lord Howell was a formidable man of business, a tyrant in negotiations, so opposite to his more benign nature in private. His imposing stature, supported by the fact that he preferred to stand, made it clear who was in charge of proceedings. It was intended to put the opposition on the back foot and secure his advantage from the start. He tended to forget that such machinations were not required among friends and they had learned not to pay it any mind.
“I shall save you some time,” Howell said as Lewis lowered himself into the comfortable chair. “Your idea is a terrible one, and you should discard such thinking with immediate effect.”
Lewis froze in the middle of settling himself, his features unmoving except for his eyebrows, which shot upward and remained there. “I haven’t said anything yet,” he protested. “How can you reject a subject that hasn’t even been raised?”
“You want to marry Miss Kinsey. And you want my opinion. I have given it to you. Now you may begin your arguments, as I am sure you have many. I shall hear them patiently and show you the flaw in each, one by one.”
“I feel perhaps I should stand,” said Lewis, feeling a tad ruffled, “if this is to take the form of a court case. Though I have to wonder, if you are to be the opposing counsel, who shall be the judge?”
“Common sense shall prevail.”
“You seem to think you have a monopoly in that commodity. But I have thought this through for some time. My plans are practical. Common sense has been applied at every juncture.”
The viscount looked up as if considering an argument written on the ceiling. “That may be true,” he conceded, “and yet common sense did not rattle around in your head by itself. There would have been a stout measure of other less sensible thoughts, nay,feelingsthat colored your views.”
Lewis felt the heat of his embarrassment rise in his neck and color his cheeks. “Well, you should know,” he countered weakly. “You have been in this position yourself.”
“Which is why I can say with confidence that your situation is worse. More fluff and less logic.”
“You do not wish me to be happy?”
“That is exactly the sort of nonsense to which I am referring. Happiness does not come from the desiring of it. The match must be able to stand the test of a lifetime.”
“But I don’t have nearly as many factors to consider as you did,” argued Lewis. “You are Munro’s foremost citizen, a viscount needing an heir, which your fine wife has provided you. I am but the younger son of a baron. I can marry purely for happiness. And I intend to. Enough of my life has been made up of duty without much in the way of reward. Miss Kinsey offers me a lightness of being I have not felt before.”
“And what do you offer her?” asked his friend.
“Why, everything! My heart, my home, the security of a sound income.”
“Can she be happy in the home of a gentleman? You see how she struggles in Munro House. She bears it for Ellena’s sake, but she is always relieved to return to Trenton Grange.”
“Our abode will have nothing like your estate,” Lewis said with confidence. “There is no comparison. She will be able to do some gardening without folk questioning it. I’m certain our blooms will be the envy of all Munro if she has her father’s skill. And we can keep chickens. I will try my best to include the reminders of her childhood home in our own.”
Lord Howell tweaked his mouth into a restrained grin. “Chickens, hey? You really do love this woman if you are talking of poultry running about your grounds. Whatever will your parents say?”
“They will just have to endure it if they choose to visit. Their home is run as they choose. It shall be the same for mine.”
“And when Miss Kinsey—I mean Mrs. Bradford—desires to run about, as she is wont to do, where will she find an outlet for this urge?”
“I hope to have a large, shaded lawn where she can do as she needs within the privacy of our property.”
“Hmm, too small for her levels of energy.”
“Then… Munro Park. It is certainly large and varied enough.”
“Not private enough. Even the wife of a barrister must maintain some decorum in the public eye.”
“We’ll take the carriage and go for a picnic farther afield,” said Lewis with some exasperation.
Howell looked at his friend with squinted eyes. “Not so easy to accommodate her after, all, would you say?”
“We’ll figure it out,” Lewis insisted. “Everything is new in the beginning. Within a year, it will be so familiar as to no longer require thought.”
