She tucked her hand into the crook of her son’s elbow. “When did you meet her, dear? She is not out yet.”
Cayton sent Justin half a glare, though its force was negated by the amusement in it. And the flush in his cheeks. “When Iwent with Justin to Whitby Park last month. And I accepted Lord Whitby’s invitation to dinner a fortnight later.”
“Well.” Aunt Susan’s smile was equal parts pleasure and . . . relief? “She would be an excellent match, to be sure.”
The servants had cut a path for them through the crush of other passengers coming and going, through friends and family greeting or sending off one another.
Brook would be glad they were coming again so soon—or angry. A definite possibility, what with her passions reigning with Mediterranean abandon. He glanced down at his aunt Caro, over to his grandfather, to his other aunt, his cousin. All with pleasant masks over their thoughts.
So unlike the families he knew in Monte Carlo, who greeted with a shout, with a kiss—who could roar in fury one moment and with laughter the next.
His gaze drifted in Whitby Park’s direction. And he found himself praying that the English rains wouldn’t dim Brook’s fire.
“You seem quiet, Justin.” Aunt Caro spoke in a volume to match her observation as the Whitby carriage came into view. “I hope you know I have been praying for you. Every hour, every day.”
“I know.” Swallowing did little to relieve the lump in his throat. “I was trying to convince Father to come home. I thought the urgency was here, not there. Had I known it was our last conversation . . .”
His aunt tipped her face up to study his. “Would you have done things differently? I daresay not. It is your nature to try to hold your family together.”
“And was it his to stubbornly cling to separation?”
Something shifted in her eyes, went distant and cold. “He had his reasons. I pray you do not judge him without knowing them.”
“Caroline.” Grandfather’s tone was the one he had used on Justin and Cayton when they were children getting into mischief.
Aunt Caro pressed her lips together, her eyes now flashing.
Justin’s chest went tight. He had thought that coming home, having Brook here, having nothing pulling him away anymore, would grant him a measure of peace in the wake of the turmoil.
Apparently not.
Cayton and Aunt Susan had wandered a few steps ahead, and their conversation sounded light and easy as they headed for their gleaming car. They climbed in with a wave to the rest of them as the servants loaded luggage into a carriage.
Their little party climbed into Whitby’s carriage in silence. Grandfather settled on one of the facing seats, determination etching the lines in his face deeper. Justin sat beside his aunt. The door shut behind him.
Aunt Caro cleared her throat. “Susan will be pleased if James pursues Lady Melissa. I assume she is as lovely as her sister.”
“She is.” Justin smiled, though less at the thought of Lady Melissa than at the way Cayton flushed over her. And at the memory of Thate’s scowl when he thought it Lady Regan in whom Cayton was interested. How amusing it would be if his friend and cousin ended up married to sisters.
The duke cleared his throat. “As a grandfather, I pray he chooses wisely. But as the duke, I am far more concerned with who you might wed, Justin. This princess turned baroness—do you intend to marry her?”
Aunt Caro hissed out a breath. “Duke!”
“Do not chide me, Caroline.” Somehow, he managed to look both weary and authoritative. “The duchy has been in the Wildon family for nigh unto three hundred years. Am I an ogre for being concerned about the next generation, with ensuring an heir?”
How could Grandfather say such a thing in Aunt Caro’s presence, when he knew how sensitive she had always been about her childlessness? Justin could only see his aunt’s profile,but he didn’t miss the way her fingers dug into the plush seat
Cayton sent Justin half a glare, though its force was negated by the amusement in it. And the flush in his cheeks. “When Iwent with Justin to Whitby Park last month. And I accepted Lord Whitby’s invitation to dinner a fortnight later.”
“Well.” Aunt Susan’s smile was equal parts pleasure and . . . relief? “She would be an excellent match, to be sure.”
The servants had cut a path for them through the crush of other passengers coming and going, through friends and family greeting or sending off one another.
Brook would be glad they were coming again so soon—or angry. A definite possibility, what with her passions reigning with Mediterranean abandon. He glanced down at his aunt Caro, over to his grandfather, to his other aunt, his cousin. All with pleasant masks over their thoughts.
So unlike the families he knew in Monte Carlo, who greeted with a shout, with a kiss—who could roar in fury one moment and with laughter the next.
His gaze drifted in Whitby Park’s direction. And he found himself praying that the English rains wouldn’t dim Brook’s fire.
“You seem quiet, Justin.” Aunt Caro spoke in a volume to match her observation as the Whitby carriage came into view. “I hope you know I have been praying for you. Every hour, every day.”
“I know.” Swallowing did little to relieve the lump in his throat. “I was trying to convince Father to come home. I thought the urgency was here, not there. Had I known it was our last conversation . . .”
His aunt tipped her face up to study his. “Would you have done things differently? I daresay not. It is your nature to try to hold your family together.”
“And was it his to stubbornly cling to separation?”
Something shifted in her eyes, went distant and cold. “He had his reasons. I pray you do not judge him without knowing them.”
“Caroline.” Grandfather’s tone was the one he had used on Justin and Cayton when they were children getting into mischief.
Aunt Caro pressed her lips together, her eyes now flashing.
Justin’s chest went tight. He had thought that coming home, having Brook here, having nothing pulling him away anymore, would grant him a measure of peace in the wake of the turmoil.
Apparently not.
Cayton and Aunt Susan had wandered a few steps ahead, and their conversation sounded light and easy as they headed for their gleaming car. They climbed in with a wave to the rest of them as the servants loaded luggage into a carriage.
Their little party climbed into Whitby’s carriage in silence. Grandfather settled on one of the facing seats, determination etching the lines in his face deeper. Justin sat beside his aunt. The door shut behind him.
Aunt Caro cleared her throat. “Susan will be pleased if James pursues Lady Melissa. I assume she is as lovely as her sister.”
“She is.” Justin smiled, though less at the thought of Lady Melissa than at the way Cayton flushed over her. And at the memory of Thate’s scowl when he thought it Lady Regan in whom Cayton was interested. How amusing it would be if his friend and cousin ended up married to sisters.
The duke cleared his throat. “As a grandfather, I pray he chooses wisely. But as the duke, I am far more concerned with who you might wed, Justin. This princess turned baroness—do you intend to marry her?”
Aunt Caro hissed out a breath. “Duke!”
“Do not chide me, Caroline.” Somehow, he managed to look both weary and authoritative. “The duchy has been in the Wildon family for nigh unto three hundred years. Am I an ogre for being concerned about the next generation, with ensuring an heir?”
How could Grandfather say such a thing in Aunt Caro’s presence, when he knew how sensitive she had always been about her childlessness? Justin could only see his aunt’s profile,but he didn’t miss the way her fingers dug into the plush seat
Similar Books
