Page 69 of Oddity of the Ton
“Did Mother surrender her freedom of choice when she marriedyou, Papa?”
He gave a smile of resignation. “That question is best left unanswered. But I’m hopeful that you’ll fare better in your marriage than others have. Whitcombe may seem a rather cold sort of fellow, but he has one redeeming feature.”
“Which is?”
“He always speaks highly of you.”
“H-he does?”
Papa nodded. “He approached me last night and said you possessed the kind of intelligence that existed to further your mind rather than to give the appearance of accomplishment—and that set you apart from every other woman in the world. To hear such words from a man such as he—a man with no reason to utter a falsehood…”
He leaned forward and caught her hand, and she curled her fingers around his. “Perhaps you will be happy with him, my sweet girl. But I would caution you before you go to Rosecombe without your old Papa to watch over you.”
Eleanor’s heart swelled at the love in his voice. “What would you have me do, Papa?”
“Guard your heart, Eleanor,” he said. “You’re not like other young women. You don’t take love lightly. When you do fall in love, I fear you’ll fall in so deeply that you’ll give yourself wholly to the one you love to the exclusion of all else, including yourown heart.” He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. “I would not see my darling girl unhappily married to a man she loved, and who didn’t love her in return.”
He patted her hand with fatherly affection, then released her, and she exited the room. But rather than return to the morning room, she slipped upstairs and sought refuge in her bedchamber.
Poor Papa—if only he knew of her deception! And now she was faced with the prospect of his fears having come true.
Because she feared that she had fallen in love with a man who was incapable of loving her in return.
Chapter Twenty
Rosecombe Park, Hertfordshire, August 1815
“Stand to!”
An order rang out as Monty stepped outside. At once, the waiting servants stiffened and stood to attention, forming a line from the main steps.
He smiled to himself. Perhaps Jenkins thought himself an officer. Standing at the head of the line, body stiff and erect, a thick mustache adorning his face, the black-clad butler looked every bit the officious general. Standing beside him, the housekeeper rolled her eyes, then glanced at him with a look of sisterly affection.
“Is everything ready for our guests, Mrs. Adams?” Monty asked.
“Yes, Your Grace,” she replied. “The guests’ bedchambers have been cleaned and aired. Miss Howard is in the green room, like you asked. And there was enough ice for sorbet tonight.”
“And dinner will be…?”
“At seven, on account of the dowager joining us. Tea will be ready as soon as your guests arrive.”
“Where?”
“I thought the blue room in the west wing,” the housekeeper said. “It catches the sun at this time of day, as you know.”
Which Monty didn’t, given how little time he spent in that room. In fact, he spent little time on the estate, preferring toleave the management to Mr. Gregory, rather than have his steward endure an incompetent duke bumbling about the place with his ill-thought-out ideas. In fact, Monty spent most of his time at his country seat trying, and failing, to stave off boredom, staying still like an obedient child while his valet tended to him—tying his cravat in a knot that he’d had never learned to master himself—and wishing the day was drawing to a close before it even begun.
Until today.
Today hedidhave something to look forward to.
And there it was—in the form of a carriage, turning into the driveway, swaying gently to and fro as it moved closer, accompanied by the sounds of a whip cracking in the air and horses’ hooves crunching on gravel.
The servants’ chatter ceased as the carriage, the Marlow family crest emblazoned on the side, drew to a halt. Two footmen rushed toward the carriage and opened the door, then stood in attendance.
Marlow climbed out, followed by his wife. Monty waited, but there was no sign of anyone else.
Surely she’d not shied away from coming?
