Page 14 of Sacrificing the Untamed Lady Henrietta
“Ewan will warm when he sees Miss Oliver, I am certain. I hear she is a comely girl.”
“She is!” Ewan could hear the pride in Tabitha’s voice.
Still, I already have gleaned she is a liar. How can I be certain she speaks the truth about my betrothed?
He idly wondered if Henrietta was unhappy about the impending union, then this is the reason she had not materialized for a proper introduction.
I should insist on an engagement party to make matters more complicated. He jested but dared not act on it. Ewan was upset, yes, but he was not ill tempered, nor did he desire to make the marriage any tenser than already destined to be.
“Is something amiss, My Lord?” Gerome was surprised to see the Marquess lurking by the wall.
“No.”
Embarrassed at being caught eavesdropping, Ewan hurried away from the foyer, his head down.He’d never admit it aloud, but he had purposely made his presence known in the parlor where the ladies were gathered, hoping to glean more knowledge on the woman he was to marry. It was a natural quest for a betrothed to want, even if he was vehemently opposed to the idea of getting married again.
He moved toward the study. His father was in London on business that morning, and so, he retreated inside to sit behind the massive desk. In his youth, Ewan felt a surge of power when he claimed his father’s chair but that day, it made him feel helplessly inept. His life had been occurring around him as he mourned, and he had been too shadowed by grief to notice.
One day, when I am Duke, I will not force my child to marry anyone he does not choose. Even though his marriage to Patricia had also been arranged, they had known each other prior to the union. He had fallen in love with her sweetness, her kind heart, and her desire to please him. Ewan vowed he could never feel the same about another in his lifetime.
I still must be married.What might Patricia say if she were alive? She would have me marry again, I am certain.
The belief in his dead wife’s approval didn’t alleviate the guilt and sadness in his heart. Ewan had already learned it was bound to remain forever.
He pressed the glass to his lips and stared blankly at the wall, permitting the alcohol to warm him. The skies had turned grey again, and temperatures dropped substantially in the past week. Holding the ceremony out of doors was out of the question, regardless of what his mother wanted. October was drawing to a close, and November was upon them. Before he blinked, he would be married, and it would be time to erect a Yule tree.
It will be but two Christmases since I lost Patricia. How can it be that long when it is all still so fresh?
The gentle rap on the door provided a welcome distraction to thoughts threatening to engulf him. Ewan could not succumb again to the darkness.
“Enter.”
Gerome, the new butler appeared.
“May I fetch you another drink, My Lord?” he asked, bowing his head properly.
“Yes.” Ewan watched the man move forward with elegant strides. “Do you hail from France, Gerome? You have the slightest indication of an accent.”
The butler paused, looked at him, and raised his brow in surprise.
“Indeed, Lord Peterborough, I was born in France. You have quite a sound ear—if you will pardon the pun.”
Ewan chuckled.
“I find languages fascinating,” he explained. “Or else I likely would not have detected it. I would not have guessed that English was not your mother tongue.”
“You are most kind, My Lord.”
Gerome moved to pour another scotch, and Ewan sat back against the chair. Inexplicably Ewan felt the urge to converse with the butler. Being the newcomer to the household, he didn’t know the history of Ewan’s melancholy. He was close enough to Ewan’s age of thirty years for the Marquess to feel a level of familiarity, even if they were not from the same avenue of life.
It has been so long since I have had a friend with whom to speak,Ewan regretted. His peers had grown weary of his endless despair, and soon invitations to hunt and play cards dissipated. It was not so much that Ewan regarded the man as a companion but a willing ear.
“Are you married, Gerome?”
Gerome’s lean face twisted in more surprise as he realized he was being spoken to with some familiarity.
“I am not, My Lord. I have yet to find a woman who would have me, I am afraid.”
“You seem able enough,” Ewan commented. “You should have no issue finding a wife.”
