Chapter 13
Joining the Royal Army was a stroll in the park compared to his entering the MacLaren household the following evening for what was meant to be an intimate family supper.
He rarely ate with others and he rarely ate in a proper dining room, often preferring his study or the stables or anywhere else he might typically attend. And tonight he would need to act the part of a duke.
“Just think of the future, my boy,” his father had told him gleefully when he was hardly ten years old. “A dukedom passes through the family line. Do you know what that means? Someday you will be a duke. It’s the greatest blessing I’ll ever have in all my years.”
Only it wasn’t supposed to have happened so soon.
He was still finishing up school when his father passed. A heart condition, they said, brought on by excess. It couldn’t be helped. His father had been a hard worker but jovial, too, and too thrilled with his success to let anyone stop him from doing anything he liked.
Once, Ronan had been the same way. It felt like an entirely other person’s live sometimes.
“Good evening, Your Grace,” Mrs. MacLaren said pertly as she curtseyed to him whilst opening the door. “What a fine treat you are to come join us. Do come in. We’ll meet in the front parlor here before going into supper. I trust you have brought your appetite?”
“Certainly. You look well, Mrs. MacLaren,” he added after a short pause when she continued to stand there. The front parlor was only a dozen paces to the right, but she was too happily staring up at him to lead him on.
Then came a voice he hadn’t heard before, a spritely young one. “Is it him? Is he here?”
“Oh!” The mother collected herself. She flushed before waving her arms to lead Ronan forward. “My apologies, right this way. Lacey, dearest, you mustn’t raise your voice like that.”
“But you were taking so long,” the voice complained, a whine through an obvious smile.
This particular voice belonged to Lacey McLaren then. He recalled vaguely that she was the youngest at ten or so years, there had been an accident that caused her blindness, and she loved a good story. What else had Isla said?
His eyes caught on her, leaving the young girl dressed in bright yellow to note there was a middle daughter in blue and then Isla in green.
The color worked wonders with her eyes. He bided his time, taking her in from head to toe. Those pretty auburn curls practically glowed in the candlelight. She rocked back and forth subtly on her heels, a hand at little Lacey’s shoulder, like she was protecting the girl.
And when she looked up at him, he felt a silent but serious current rush through his veins all hot and ticklish.
He wished he had brought his cane, something to hold on to, and instead only had his hands to ball into fists. How she could make him feel this, let alone anything, wasn’t right.
“Your Grace! I am utterly delighted to be of your acquaintance!” Lacey charged forward like he was a deaf party. Her sisters didn’t stand a chance. With one hand thrown out toward him, she was ready to run into the wall.
Acting on instinct more than anything else, Ronan snatched her hand even from being a fair distance apart, and then gave her a quick yank that sent her into a twirl that slowed her to a stop.
“I say! What a marvelous thing to do. Can you do it again?” The girl demanded even as he let go of her tight grip.
“Lacey, what do you think you’re doing?” Mrs. MacLaren stood back with a hand over her heart.
The other two girls offered quick chuckles and quiet smiles. “I beg your pardon,” the middle daughter said. “And so does Lacey. Don’t you, Lacey?”
“It was great fun. I like him, Isla,” the child announced. “Your Grace, what shall I call you?”
She turned her head about, eyes widening and then narrowing like she was searching for him. Perhaps there was something she could see. Eventually, her gaze narrowed down on his right shoulder before she beamed up at him.
It took him a moment to think. He was usually quick on his feet but the girl’s energy took him by surprise.
Clearly related to Isla, though. I can see the impertinent nature clearly.
Ronan considered the answer a moment before he said, “Westvale would be perfectly acceptable, or Ward, I suppose.”
“Can I call you Robert instead?”
“What?” Mrs. MacLaren squawked. “Lacey, do be polite! I am terribly sorry, Your Grace. Lacey here promised to present her best manners this evening. I believe you should take your supper in your room after all, child.”
Pouting, Lacey said, “I can’t do that all on my own!
I’d be awfully lonely. And what if I made a mess?
You don’t like messes,” she added in a wheedling tone before suddenly looking sad once again.
Her eyes widened as she turned in his direction.
“And Westvale surely would like my company at supper. Wouldn’t you? ”
He was in over his head. He would rather take the army and a dozen battles than try to manage this situation, whatever it was. The girl was clearly playing games here. But what could that earn her? He tried to look away from her for more than a second with that doe-eyed pout.
The one second he could look away was at Isla who shrugged and hid her hand over her mouth.
“I… wouldn’t mind the company,” Ronan said at last.
Mrs. MacLaren muttered under her breath before reaching for her daughter’s hand. “Very well! Isla, do offer His Grace a drink, would you? I’ll settle the table with Lacey here and you may follow in a few minutes.”
Unconventional, but he supposed nothing about this union with Isla was conventional after all. It never would be.
But it still supports my plan. I can manage a child if need be, she’s perfectly harmless and will surely calm down over supper.
“That was very kind of you, Your Grace.” He turned toward the middle daughter.
Margaret, he recalled just as Isla offered them introductions.
The girl had to be about ready to leave the schoolroom, he supposed.
She’d be a lovely thing out there and he wondered if he needed to include her into the plan.
After all, a gentleman didn’t simply marry a lady.
He married into an entire family. One that was going to need him.
He offered a short bow. “I am simply glad to have the opportunity to meet Isla’s family.”
Shifting a little closer to him, Isla murmured, “Thank you for your patience. Lacey is a spirited girl. You’ll adore her as we do soon enough. I’m certain supper should be very pleasant for us all.”
Ronan responded with a nod before Margaret asked him about his day. After ignoring the offered drink, he managed a polite conversation with the two young ladies before they made their way into the dining room to sup.
The first of eight courses would be a pea soup. As the dishes were brought around by a plump woman muttering under her breath, Ronan eyed the table arrangements.
It was a decent rectangular table where he was seated at one head and Mrs. MacLaren the other.
At his right elbow was Margaret with Lacey on her other side, and Isla at his left elbow.
Everyone was polite enough except for Lacey who, for all her limited sight, didn’t seem inclined to take her eyes off him.
“Have you ever had pea soup, Westvale?” She called.
“I have indeed,” he replied before her mother could scold her for calling across the table. “Never so green, however. And you?”
The question was the trick. Her face brightened like the sun as she excitedly told him all about the first time she’d had pea soup. Of course, this only lasted so long until she had a new question for him.
Did he drink brandy? What was so awful about brandy that he didn’t like?
How many courses did he like to enjoy in a meal? Did dukes typically eat more because of their titles?
Was he the sort of duke that liked dessert or could she have his?
“She’s just a child,” Isla murmured, leaning in to speak quietly with him on the last course. “I do appreciate your patience. She means well. I haven’t seen her so lively with someone new in a very long time. I’m sure you can see she’s a very clever girl.”
“Very,” he reassured her. And after a bite of his blanc mange, he cried off being too full and let Lacey enjoy the rest of his dessert.
Lacey skipped over to him, ignoring banging her elbow twice on a chair, when the meal was done. “I must retire now like a lady,” she overly pronounced. “Will you be here come morning?”
“I… am returning to my own home this evening.”
“And where is that? Can I visit you?”
Isla stepped in while their mother turned red. “Lacey, when do we ever visit a gentleman’s home?”
“But you’re to marry him soon! Aren’t you?”
“Let’s off to bed,” Margaret said with a cheery smile. She shot them all a friendly wink. “You can tell me a new story about fairies and blanc mange, surely?”
The question made no sense to him, but it brightened Lacey’s mood and immediately distracted the girl. “I have just the idea! Good night, all. Good night, Your Gracious!” And she skipped right out.
“Well, that was… She’s… a very lively girl,” Mrs. MacLaren said and then hastily added, “We’ll have a governess soon enough of course to turn her into a lady. It will only take some time.”
“A lot of time!” Margaret called from the hall, somehow having heard.
Isla didn’t enjoy the jest from the frown on her face. “Mother, there is nothing wrong with Lacey.”
“When did I say there was? I’m merely saying there is room for improvement. Now, don’t argue with me in front of your intended,” the woman added before Isla could say anything. “Go back to the parlor. We have some sherry out there and I’ll join you in a moment.”
Deliberately moving slow with Isla’s polite usuring, Ronan glanced back over his shoulder to see Mrs. MacLaren collecting the plates.