Page 8 of Everything But the Earl
“Do you agree with me, Your Grace, that the emerald gown was well-suited to Lady Grace?” Anthony asked Adele.
She smiled. “I did think it was quite beautiful.”
“There, you see? Appropriate conversation.” Anthony smiled. “Anyway, my point was, you could do worse.”
“I barely know her, and also, she was betrothed toyou,” said Owen.
“Indeed she was, and neither of us wants to marry the other.” Anthony frowned. “All right, I admit this is a little self-serving, but consider this. Your family has been nagging you to get married. And I know from the way you talk about that crumbling castle your family owns that your family’s legacy is important enough to you that you would have married eventually so that you’d have someone to pass it on to.” He sighed. “I cannot give her what she needs out of a marriage.”
“What do you mean by that?”
Anthony crossed his arms. Lark rubbed his thigh sympathetically. “Grace is clear-eyed about me. She and I do not suit.”
Lark made a noise, an odd whistle through his teeth. Anthony jerked his head toward Lark. “What? Doyouwish me to marry Grace.”
Lark crossed his arms. “No. I do not wish you to marry anyone.”
“Indeed. Look, Owen, you want an heir at some point, yes? And you are also tethered to London whenever Parliament is in session. Grace loathes the city and wants to move to the country. She also has not much interest in a husband. In a lot of ways, this situation is perfect. Marry Grace, who is a lovely girl. You must have thought she was lovely enough to kiss.”
Owen nodded, though he resented this whole proceeding.
“So marry her, install her at your home in Wales, and then both of you can carry on with your lives.”
“Why would Lady Grace not want her husband at her side?” asked Adele.
“Grace is a potter of some skill,” said Anthony. “She told me at the ball that she is only still willing to marrymebecause she wants space inthe country to set up a studio where she can make…whatever it is she makes. Bowls and vases, I suppose.”
“I just bought a cottage on the coast,” said Owen.
Everyone turned to look at him.
Owen sighed. “Caernarfon Castle has become the project of my aunt. She wants to fix it up and open it to gawkers. I’ve been content to let her. And my estate functions well enough without my presence. But I just bought a cottage on the north coast of Wales that needs some fixing up. I was planning to make it my project this summer. But I could give it to Grace if she wanted to use it for a pottery. She has some skill, you said?”
Anthony nodded. “I own a few of her pieces. They are quite lovely. She’s no Makepeace, but I do believe her goal when she has her own studio is to improve on her craft.”
“Makepeace?” asked Fletcher.
“Gerard Makepeace. He’s a master potter. Makes these vases and urns that are just breathtaking. They are hard to acquire, but I know his dealer.” Anthony grinned, but then frowned at everyone’s blank faces. “Philistines, all of you.”
Owen sat back in his chair and downed the rest of his whiskey. He could see the wisdom of Anthony’s argument. Perhaps this situationwasa blessing. Still…
“Marriage is so…permanent,” Owen said. “I don’t know her very well. What if it turns out that she and I do not suit?”
“What if you do?” asked Adele. She tsked. “You gentlemen are allergic to the prospect of marriage, and I think it is ridiculous. Owen, do you even…sow many oats?”
Owen didn’t understand her meaning. “What are you talking about?”
“She’s asking if you’ve had many lovers,” said Fletcher. “But politely.”
“Oh. Well, no, not exactly. I’ve been busy with Parliament theselast couple of years.”
“So why not marry?”
“I don’t feel ready. I don’t know.”
Adele shot Owen a wry smile. “Hugh, tell your friend that marriage is actually a festival of delights.”
Hugh laughed. His wife stood before him, near the tray full of tea and tarts. Hugh grabbed her by the waist and pulled her onto his lap. “We’ve been married just over a year, have we not?” Hugh asked.
