Page 13 of If the Duke Dares
Enough color drained from the baroness’s face that Acton had his answer. Miss Barclayhadn’twanted to come. So much so that she’d likely run off. What a reckless chit. What could she hope to achieve?
Acton meant to find out. “As it happens, I need to leave to attend to some business. Perhaps when I return, Miss Barclay may have recovered and will be here to meet me.” He knew that wouldn’t happen. “There will be no marriage settlement until we both agree that we will suit.” He looked toward his mother. She appeared stiff, her back straight as an arrow.
“That seems reasonable,” the dowager said, though her gaze was clouded, and her brows pitched down slightly.
With a final nod, Acton departed without saying anything more. He was nearly to the top of the stairs when his mother caught up with him.
“Wellesbourne, are you angry?” she asked from behind him.
Pausing, Acton turned. He glanced toward the drawing room and kept his voice low. “I’m not angry, but I am confused. It seems odd that they would come here without their daughter.” And lie about what was happening with her, but Acton kept that to himself for now. The baron and baroness had to know their daughter was gone. They’d lied about her whereabouts.
Though he was tempted to go back and ask them for the truth, he much preferred to hear it from Miss Barclay first. He’d return to Gloucester and speak to her—if she was still there. Hell, she could be anywhere. He’d start in Gloucester and not rest until he found her.
Once he determined what the devil was going on, he’d alert her parents. Probably. He couldn’t shake the distasteful sensation he’d had in their presence.
“Itisstrange that they came without her,” the dowager allowed.
“And that they wanted to agree on the marriage settlement without my having met her. You can’t have thought I would consent to that.”
His mother’s features tightened into a faint grimace. “I did not know that was their intent.”
“It doesn’t recommend them.”
“Youareangry,” she said, her hands fidgeting together.
“No. Well, perhaps a little. I just find it obnoxious. Is there some reason they didn’t bring Miss Barclay and then wanted to rush into a marriage agreement? I find it suspect.”
Except he knew Miss Barclay was not at home. Why was she in Gloucester by herself?
Acton shook his head. “Mother, I need to go.”
“But you only just arrived. What business could you have when you knew you would be spending time with Miss Barclay?”
“Business I put off because of this meeting and can now attend to,” he said.
“I understand. I’d hoped to see you for longer. Will you return in a few days to meet Miss Barclay?” She spoke tentatively, which she often did. She said it was because she didn’t know him and didn’t wish to overstep. While he appreciated that, since their relationship was new to him, at some point, he hoped she would just relax and say what she wished without worrying about his reaction. Did she think him a beast?
“If she even comes. I confess I’m skeptical.”
She went on, “Shall I invite the baron and baroness to stay or recommend they go home to their daughter?”
It wasn’t at all up to Acton what the Radstocks decided to do, but he was torn by the question. If they went home, it would not be to their daughter. “There isn’t a point in them staying if they don’t absolutely expect their daughter to arrive, and their comments on that matter seemed vague. Please do as you see fit.”
“You didn’t like them, did you?” she asked.
He was surprised by her direct question. “I confess I found them…I don’t know, almost annoying?” He gave his head a light shake. “My apologies. I know she is a good friend of yours.”
“She was very supportive of me in Bath,” the dowager said softly. She’d resided in Bath with his younger sisters after leaving when Acton was five years old. His father had rarely spoken of her, saying only that it was best if they lived in separate households. Until Acton went off to school, he saw her for a fortnight every year when she came to London to oversee the annual ball they held at Wellesbourne House. Even then, he didn’t really see her. He spent most of his time with his governess.
“It’s all right,” the dowager added. “You don’t need to like my friends.”
Allowing his exasperation to get the better of him, Acton exhaled. “You don’t have to be fine with that. You don’t have to like everything I do.”
Her brown eyes rounded for the barest moment. “I don’t, actually, but I don’t think it’s my place to share that.”
“You’re my mother. At least, I’m told you are.” It was a snide comment, and he immediately regretted it. “Youaremy mother.” Just one who hadn’t wanted him for a very long time and now suddenly did. Acton assumed she felt guilty after his father had died so unexpectedly.
“I am, but I deserve your wariness and your disdain. I am trying to make up for the time we lost. Sometimes, I fear it’s too late.” She gave him an earnest stare, and there was so much emotion shining in her eyes that it almost made him uncomfortable. “You’ve only to ask me to leave, and I will. I never wish to cause you upset.”
