Chapter 7
Ronan tapped his cane into the ground impatiently before collecting himself.
He had time. He wasn’t in a rush. Another glance at his pocket watch confirmed he was still ahead of schedule. Officially, he was early to the office.
“Westvale?” Called a voice from behind that made him freeze. “What a surprise to see you here.”
Turning, he gave Sebastian a pointed look. “You followed me here, did you?”
The man offered his wicked grin that had half of London in fear of the beast that he was. Tall and broad-shouldered, Sebastian had spent half his life living and brawling in the slums of the city before returning home to where he took on the mantle of duke. “Can you prove it?”
“No. But your face says enough.”
“Whereas your face says nothing these days,” his old friend commented on his way over. He glanced around at the fabric and knobs laid about, then nodded to the double door entryway ahead of them. “Buying a new carriage, are you?”
Ronan gave a short nod. “Indeed.”
“I thought you didn’t like using them any longer,” Sebastian said. The smile on his face had softened to give him a serious look.
Not interested in being studied, Ronan glanced away. “I don’t. But my family will have need of one.”
“Ah. For the duchess, then?”
At least he isn’t wasting time on beating around the bush. If only I had a better way of hiding. I swear they must have hired hands keeping an eye on me.
When he didn’t give anything more than a shrug, Sebastian carried on. “I heard you were at Langdon’s two nights ago. Isabel and I meant to attend, you know how she loves dancing, but the littlest one was collicky and the like.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Ah, he’s already on the mend. And how is Oliver?”
“A growing boy. He’s fine,” Ronan added curtly in the hopes that his friend wouldn’t dig in further. Although his friends knew of the boy, few others did, and he still didn’t know how to talk about the situation without his heart bleeding.
Nodding, Sebastian moved about the empty shop. There were four chairs set out for them but Ronan had spent enough time riding today and wished to stretch his legs. The shopkeeper, Olsen, was finishing a deal, so would be with him soon enough.
“Two dance sets, including the supper dance,” his friend said.
They were back on the topic of a wife, apparently.
Ronan rubbed his brow to prevent a headache.
“That’s a fine statement. Matches well with the announcement for a betrothal between the Duke of Westvale and a Lady Isla MacLaren. Quite the surprise, I have to say.”
Ronan glimpsed Olsen headed his way at long last. With his patience wearing thin, he started toward the doorway. “A pleasant conversation, Sebastian, as always.”
Then he dipped through the partially open doors to make his way down the hall.
Olsen was just putting papers away in his office.
“And then I’m free to take you back. I’d love to show you our newest model, Your Grace.
Your heightened awareness for safety will surely be well received here,” the man added with reassurance.
It still made Ronan’s heart beat.
Following the man to the stables, he allowed him to begin pointing out and explaining all the springs and new safety measures that were in the works. Improvements had been made over the last couple of years, which he had been demanding for some time. He had, thank god, been heard.
But even as he tried to focus, Sebastian was in his head. His friend hadn’t even said much. And yet there was Isla back in his mind, distracting him.
She will make for a fine duchess. Though her immediate family no longer has a claim to titles, they still have the honorifics and that is satisfactory.
Scottish blood, but still awfully blue. No matter whom I wed would surely be a target for gossip.
But she’s a strong sort of young lady. Clear-eyed and energetic. Steady, too.
“Do you have any questions?” Olsen asked him with clasped hands.
Blinking, Ronan turned back to him. His mind had wandered but he had heard most of it. “Yes. I have twelve.”
Although Olsen’s smile faded, he managed to provide insights on the twelve questions, and the eight that were needed in the follow-up conversation.
The two of them spent a good hour reviewing the model before Ronan put in his request. He’d already had time to study the finer pieces in the main shop, and there they worked out the details.
“And I’ll need this in three weeks,” he added once he had confirmed the price.
A glimpse of fear brushed through Olsen’s face, his eye twitching, but he smiled. “I understand, Your Grace.”
“I will arrive in exactly three weeks to inspect it for myself, and with an additional driver so we ensure all is secure,” Ronan added as he rose. The shopkeeper hastily copied. “Because it will be secure and the safest contraption possible, won’t it?”
Nodding, Olsen gave his reassurances.
Ronan accepted this, gave the card for his man of finances, and then took his leave.
It only took him a moment to route his horse into Hyde Park. He had some time, after all, and the public area was always beautiful. He could use a momentary distraction before moving through his other tasks for the day.
“Oho! A stranger.” Tristan appeared when he was halfway along the pond. The man looked positively windswept with his wry smile and tall build on the skittish horse. “Ronan, what are you doing here? About to enjoy a turn in the park?”
“I was enjoying a ride. Or so I had hoped,” he added mulishly.
Tristan raised his eyebrow. “If you wish for me to leave, you have only to say the word.”
But he didn’t. He couldn’t, not really, and Tristan knew this. So Ronan continued nudging his horse along and then the other duke fell in line. The two of them rode quietly for a few minutes. Just long enough that he had hope about having some peace and silence here.
“I heard Langdon’s ball was quite the affair this week,” Tristan said. “Did you enjoy dancing again?”
“It was satisfactory.”
His friend nodded. “A fine word for a fine event. And what did Lady Isla think?”
An unexpected question that had Ronan tightening his grip on the reins enough so his horse sidestepped. It took him a second to right then, glancing quickly at Tristan with his impassive expression.
“I believe she enjoyed herself,” Ronan finally muttered.
“I should hope so. Because a marriage includes two parties of whom will have their own thoughts and feelings on the situation,” Tristan said. “I do hope you will be mindful of her as well as yourself.”
Frowning, he looked over. “Do you think I would be cruel to her? Do you think me a selfish gentleman?”
“I think you are a suffering gentleman,” Tristan corrected him. “And I hope that it will not affect whatever choices you are making at this time. That it does not control them.”
So it’s a lecture, that’s what this is. He thinks me impulsive and thoughtless, so he believes he can act as my father to tell me what to do.
“I don’t need this,” he huffed under his breath. Then he gave his horse a hard squeeze. “Good day, Tristan.” Off they went at a fast canter, taking the lead before his friend could catch up to them.
Perhaps he could if he tried, but Ronan was relieved when he didn’t.
He returned to the streets of London to complete his shopping. New things were purchased with orders to deliver to the correct address. After a meeting with his solicitor, and after studying the streets carefully to ensure he wasn’t being watched, Ronan decided to take a short pause at a club.
His friends were right. Even though he had long let go of his membership, he was welcomed with a drink and a quiet room just as he requested.
Ronan watched the quiet street from his window, leaning against the framing while he sipped honeyed apple tea. It was more honey than apple at this rate. A brandy had been offered, but he had forced himself to deny it.
I’ll head home at the end of the hour and have myself some chai upon my return. That will be a refreshment for the day. Everything should be handled by now, and I can return with news to Hobbes. Perhaps I’ll even return in time to watch Oliver have his bedtime story read to him.
“There he is,” came a quiet voice as the closed door creaked open.
Blast it. A duke truly can never be alone.
Ronan resisted the urge to sigh. Taking another sip, he listened to the footsteps of his friends pile in the room. It sounded like all three of them based on the heavy footsteps. Two grunts meant the chairs were being taken up. Then came Tristan to the window to see the view as he did.
“Busy day.”
“Indeed.” Ronan glanced over at him, then at Julian and Sebastian who had settled into their seats. “But not busy enough to keep the lot of you away.”
Opening his eyes wide with false innocence, Julian asked, “Whatever is that supposed to mean?”
With a huff, Ronan turned to give Tristan a look. “Did you put them up to this?”
Tristan was the unspoken leader of their group. Known for his calm and severe demeanor, only those close to him in his life knew his ability to offer fair conversation, some advice, and the rare jest. Even now, he seemed to tower over them with grace like a benevolent king.
Never had it so annoyed Ronan.
“I didn’t have to,” Tristan said in response.
Nodding, Julian scooted to the edge of his seat. “We want to be here, Ronan. For you. You know that, don’t you? It’s been years since you let us in. It makes me feel like I’m a desperate wife, trying to get your attention. I haven’t a clue how you can’t imagine why we’re all here for you.”
“Nothing has changed,” he said with a scowl.
“So you’re not getting married, then?” Sebastian inquired with a polite expression.
He couldn’t answer that one way or another. And the silence was another reply on its own. Turning back toward the window, Ronan hoped his back to their presence might give them a clue.
“We care, in case you have forgotten,” Julian offered. “We care that you are well. That you are in London. That you are getting married. All we wish is that you might talk with us. We missing talking to you. Knowing you. We care about you, and now Lady Isla––”
Except they didn’t know her. They didn’t know her bold gaze or bouncing dance steps. They didn’t know how she obviously adored some silly cat and could calculate large numbers in her head. No one knew anything. And how could one care if they simply didn’t know?
It’s hardly as though they even know me any longer. I’m not at all the young man I once was. That was years ago.
“No, you don’t,” Ronan snapped. His patience had worn thin. He slammed the teacup down as he continued. “You don’t know anything, and I don’t want you to, don’t you see? It is simply time that I married. All of you, at one time or another, were on my hide about this.”
Tristan shifted. “We only mean to say we care about you, Ronan. We want to be your friends.”
“Then stop doing what you’re doing. You’re not content when I am unwed and you are not content when I am betrothed.
It’s a fair guess how you will feel once I am wed, and that is hardly a matter for any of you.
I am sick and tired of being treated like, like a dead fish here, too stinky to be taken seriously,” Ronan sputtered in indignation.
Bitterness sat heavy on his tongue as he breathed hard, staring at the ground. Part of him felt a weight lifting off his shoulders over having to carry this tension every time he was in London.
But as uneasy silence spread across the room, he could also sense how harsh he had sounded to them. A quick look about showed they were exchanging glances with hesitant expressions with evidence of doubt.
“I…” He stepped back against the wall and pinched the bridge of his nose. The aching in his head had begun to return without his notice. “I only mean that I am tired of this.”
“Very well.” Tristan spoke quietly but softly as he added, “We will give you the peace you appear to seek that is far from us at this time.”
Rising from his seat, Julian nodded. “We wish you well with your union.”
Sebastian copied. “Only the best, of course.”
“It isn’t that, I only…” Ronan couldn’t get the right words out. Possibly because there were no right words. He dropped his hand, feeling the sticky itch of pity filling the room. It made him antsy. He couldn’t stay here. “I have to go. Good day.”
When he fled out of the club, no one followed him. There was a long ride back to his estate and he would be all alone. Though Ronan thought he should feel relief as he took his leave, he found there was a new tension radiating through his shoulders.
I can’t do anything right, can I?