Page 103 of The Moonstone Hero
“My wife has been working hard to put all the wedding preparations in order,” Lord Stockwell protested. “What is the point of marrying Ella tomorrow if everything is already arranged for next month? I don’t know if I approve of your inconstancy.”
The Marquess of Burness groaned. “John, calm down. I have never seen you in such a stir. Your little girl loves him, and he loves her. There is nothing inconstant about their desire to marry or your inability to accept it. Just let them do what they must. There’s nothing wrong with having a private ceremony tomorrow. Short. Sweet. Just the immediate family.”
He turned to Caden. “I’m sorry it will take place without your grandfather. I can see how important he is to you. Despite the friction between the two of you, he is your closest family. We can keep this first ceremony quiet, and you’ll simply have a second ceremony along with the wedding breakfast next month as originally planned. Hopefully, your grandfather will be recovered by then and can join us for those festivities.”
Ella’s father frowned. “Since when have you been the reasonable one? Do not tell us what to do, Cormac.”
“Since when have you been the arse in the family?” Cormac shot back. “That is my role, and I am not about to cede it to you.”
Caden raked a hand through his hair.
Now these two brothers were fighting over him and Ella.
He was never going to win an argument with Lord Stockwell, since the man obviously adored the idyllic home life he had made with his wife and little girls—but he was about to lose one of those precious girls to Caden, and he could not bear it.
Caden understood his turmoil and hoped he would eventually get over it, mostly for Ella’s sake. They were a close family, it was obvious to see.
He also realized Stafford must have shown up for a reason. “What brought you here? Were you looking for me?”
“Everyone is looking for you. Have you not heard? Fulke is dead.”
Caden’s eyes widened. “How? What happened? When did it happen?”
“Must have been a few weeks after you were shipped home, but news only reached the Foreign Office a short while ago. The Ashanti raided his home and killed him. Dismembered him, I am told.”
Caden’s expression turned hard as steel. “I cannot say I am sorry for this loss. That man caused so much damage. It was only a matter of time before he met his own end, although it is indeedan awful one. Was it a general uprising, or did they just come after him?”
“I don’t know. Lord Palmerston wants you to report to him at the Foreign Office immediately.”
The Marquess of Burness arched an eyebrow. “Lord Palmerston? The foreign secretary himself?”
“Yes,” Caden said, not pleased to be drawn away but knowing it was important.
Stafford nodded. “I’m sure he will have more to tell us. Mind if I come along?”
Caden turned to Ella’s father. “I do not know what this will mean for tomorrow.”
“Do you not? I highly doubt that. You are a weasel and have no intention of ever marrying my daughter.”
“Lord in heaven,” he muttered. “I’ll return as soon as my meeting is over.”
Ella had been standing on the front steps all the while and must have heard their exchange. He started toward her, but she fled inside.
“Ella!” He wanted to go after her.
Stafford held him back. “The matter is urgent. I think the Duke of Wellington and Earl Grey are also heading over to the Foreign Office. You cannot keep them waiting.”
The marquess clapped him on the shoulder. “Ella will understand…even if her stubborn father does not. I will talk to her.”
“Thank you.” Caden nodded and walked off, his stomach churning as he heard the two brothers arguing again. But his main concern was for Ella. She had to be raw and hurting for the way he was treating her. Wanting to marry right away. Delaying. Then back to their original plan of a December wedding. Postponement. Rushing it forward again, only to have it upended minutes later.
He was overwhelmed himself, feeling tugged in a thousand directions. Pulled one way by his duty to the men who had served and died under his command, another by his duty to ensure the welfare of all soldiers who returned to England after serving. A third direction was his duty to his grandfather and the Seaton dukedom. And now the Foreign Office wanted him.
Ella, in the meanwhile, was shoved and buffeted about like driftwood on a stormy ocean, left to fend for herself as though she mattered least.
Did his duty to her not matter above all else?
The carriage rolled away from the Stockwell residence as soon as he and Stafford climbed in. He considered turning it around, but Stafford stopped him. “This is serious, my lord. Lady Ella will be fine. She is resilient and she loves you.”
