Page 73 of The Earl and His Lady

He paused and met her eyes again, his look becoming more serious. “My lady, it is not my place to speak my mind, but as I am old, and since you began this conversation, I must ask something. Would your baron want you to spend weeks, months, or years weeping over his loss, or would he hope your days would be filled with joy and laughter?”

She ought to be offended. She knew she shouldn’t even entertain the thought of answering such a personal question. The division in their class, between servant and employer, created an enormous gap that ought never to be breached by a conversation of such intimacy.

But Virginia found herself speaking, a hand covering her heart, feeling the truth behind each word as it left her lips. “Charles was a vibrant man, kind and generous to all he knew. It would hurt him to think his memory prevented that for me.” She sucked in a deep breath, meeting Gresham’s steady gaze with surprise. “But it hasn’t even been six months, Gresham.”

He straightened his shoulders; his face became impassive once more. Gresham was her butler, not her confidante.

“My lady, where are the rules of grief written? And who do we offend when we write our own?” he asked. Then he bowed, turned, and walked away as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Virginia stared after him, her thoughts spinning.

Society dictated she mourn her husband for a year. But society was already likely offended by her hasty marriage.

But here in the country, at Annesbury Park, what care did she have for society?

Virginia shook the thought away and continued to the nursery, hoping the boys would have need of her and she might count on them for distraction.

Chapter Twenty-seven

Lucas exited the printer’s shop with a book wrapped in brown paper. He couldn’t wait to see Edward’s face when he showed the boy what he’d done with his drawings. He hoped it would be appreciated, perhaps even inspiring for the young artist. No one had ever encouraged the artistic endeavors of Lucas’s brother, Marcus. Not as they should have. If Edward truly loved to draw and paint, and he did show a great aptitude for it, Lucas would do all he could to encourage the talent to grow.

He took in a deep breath of London’s humid air, for once appreciating the cooler weather. It wouldn’t help anyone’s crops, but it kept the stench of the great city bearable. Like many of London’s wealthy citizenry, he preferred the country to the city in the warmer months.

Longing for Annesbury Park had become Lucas’s permanent state. There was little to occupy him in London that could not be accomplished elsewhere, especially with Parliament out and most of his friends gone to their own homes. He would rather be in the countryside, visiting Thomas Gilbert, riding about the countryside…

Lucas sighed and quickened his pace, trying to outrun his own lies.

He wanted to be fishing with the boys, inspecting their castle in the trees, taking them on the picnic he had long ago promised and never delivered. He missed Edward’s delivery of drawings. He missed Phillip’s serious questions and rare smile.

But it was Virginia he missed the most.

He took the steps two at a time when he arrived at his townhouse, which was now his mother’s permanent residence. She had begun talking of setting up house elsewhere, before the season began, so as not to be in Virginia’s way. The idea of her leaving, of hearing the queer echo of emptiness in another grand house, settled like a stone in Lucas’s stomach.

The butler took his hat and gloves. “My lord, there is a gentleman here to see you. He has been waiting a quarter of an hour and said he would wait until you arrived.”

Lucas raised his eyebrows. “I am not expecting anyone. His name?”

“A Mr. Ewan Snowley, my lord.”

Tucking his package for Edward beneath his arm, Lucas gave a nod. “In my study?”

“Your mother is with him, my lord, in the morning room. She rather insisted on giving him tea.” The butler’s eyebrows twitched, a near-enough sign of disapproval. This butler had been engaged by his mother years ago, but he never had accustomed himself to her somewhat unorthodox manners.

“Thank you. I’ll see to him at once.” Lucas only just restrained his smile. His mother wouldn’t care that she hadn’t been properly introduced to someone. If they came to her home, she’d still be the best hostess they’d ever had the privilege of meeting.

Lucas went up the stairs, puzzling over the visitor’s identity, pushing thoughts of the children and Virginia to the back of his mind. Any diversion would be a welcome one, truly.

He entered the morning room, a comfortable chamber obviously stamped with his mother’s unique sense of style. She had turned the room into a Grecian oasis, or at least the English version of it. Pillars, urns, pastoral scenes in paintings, and furniture with scroll-work and Ionic columns supporting them all.

The gentleman rose when he entered, his hat in one hand and a cup in the other. He was nearly as tall as Lucas, though perhaps several years younger. The cut of his clothing was fine enough to mark him as a successful member of the gentry. He bowed.

Lucas returned the gesture, but went to his mother’s side before speaking, dropping a kiss to her cheek as he always did when greeting her. “Mother. You look well this afternoon.”

Her eyes sparkled up at him. “I look well every afternoon. Most of the day long, in fact. Lucas, may I present Mr. Snowley. I met him today in our entry hall. He says he must speak with you but will not tell me why.”

“Is that so? Mr. Snowley, as we have never met before, I find myself very curious as to why you’ve come.”

Mr. Snowley’s expression remained neutral, giving nothing away. “I beg your pardon, my lord. It is not my habit to call on people in such a manner, but I felt you would wish to speak to me straight away. We are not in the same social circles, so I could not beg an introduction anywhere else. But I come on a most important matter, my lord, concerning your wife.”