Chapter 27 #2
“He clearly loves you, and what matters most to me is that he’s happy.
I have wanted him to marry for so long—not just for his duty to the earldom but because I love my son and wish for him to have a joyful marriage.
I believe he will have that with you. Provided you stop endangering yourselves,” Lady Ravenhurst added sternly.
“Your counsel is well taken,” Tilda murmured. She couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing.
“I’ve grown fond of you, Matilda. You prefer Tilda, don’t you?”
“Only my mother calls me Matilda.”
“Ah, yes. Your mother.” The dowager pursed her lips briefly. She’d met Tilda’s mother a few weeks earlier when she’d been visiting from Birmingham. They’d had tea with Grandmama at Lady Ravenhurst’s house. Tilda’s mother had made no secret about hoping for a match between Tilda and Hadrian.
At the time, Lady Ravenhurst had been rather unambiguous in her lack of support for the union. But it seemed she’d changed her mind.
“I imagine she would be delighted if you and my son decide to wed,” Lady Ravenhurst continued. “But only the two of you can make that choice.”
“I don’t know the first thing about being a countess,” Tilda whispered.
Lady Ravenhurst waved her hand as if she were swatting at a fly.
“Nonsense. You comported yourself exceptionally well the other night at dinner, particularly with my blowhard son-in-law. I promise the other two possess better manners. You’re a bright young woman, even brilliant to hear my son tell it, and I’ve no doubt you can master anything you set your mind to.
I will stand by you every step of the way. ”
“You would?” Tilda blinked. “I confess I’m overwhelmed by your kindness. You’ve given me much to think about.”
“Good. You must not make any decision lightly. I will endorse whatever you choose, even if it’s not my son.
I would much rather you step away now if you can’t be completely certain you will be happy together.
” She fixed on Tilda with a sharp intensity.
“And you must accept that your career cannot be primary any longer.”
She didn’t say she couldn’t have a career. Tilda found that encouraging. “I will consider all you’ve said.”
Mrs. Acorn came in then with the tea tray wearing a sunny smile. “Welcome, Lady Ravenhurst. I’ve tea and lavender biscuits.”
Lady Ravenhurst stood. “Lavender? I was about to depart, but I think I must have just one.” She flashed a smile before removing her right glove and plucking a biscuit from the tray Mrs. Acorn held.
Tilda met Mrs. Acorn’s gaze and inclined her head to the round table near the front window. Mrs. Acorn deposited the tray as Lady Ravenhurst sampled the biscuit.
“Delicious,” Lady Ravenhurst said before putting the rest of the biscuit into her mouth and donning her glove. After swallowing, she said, “Please give my compliments to your cook.”
That was Mrs. Acorn, but Tilda didn’t say so. Their household was much smaller than probably anywhere Lady Ravenhurst had lived.
Tilda walked Hadrian’s mother to the entrance hall. “Thank you for calling. I appreciate everything you said.”
“I trust you’ll make the right decision—whatever that is.” She gave Tilda a warm smile.
Vaughn opened the door, and Lady Ravenhurst swept from the house.
Once the door was closed, Tilda turned. She stopped short as she saw Mrs. Acorn standing in the doorway to the parlor and Grandmama at the opposite side of the entrance hall, having come from the back of the house. They both eyed Tilda with barely concealed…glee.
Tilda gaped at them. “Were you listening?”
Mrs. Acorn lifted a shoulder. “I came up with the tea, but then I heard what her ladyship was saying, and I couldn’t just walk in, could I?”
“So you decided to listen instead?”
“I fetched your grandmother first,” the housekeeper explained. “I thought it best if she heard for herself instead of from me.”
Blinking, Tilda found she could not be outraged. Instead, she laughed. They laughed too. Even Vaughn joined in.
“Did you listen too?” Tilda asked when she could catch her breath.
Vaugh shrugged. “You know my hearing isn’t the best.”
“I know it’s better than you say it is.” Tilda smiled as she shook her head. Then she walked to the parlor, and Mrs. Acorn stepped aside to let her pass.
Walking to the tea tray, Tilda picked up a biscuit and nibbled the edge. She perched on a chair as Mrs. Acorn and her grandmother came into the parlor.
“It wasn’t enough to eavesdrop, now you want to discuss what you overheard?” Tilda asked.
“Don’t you want to discuss it?” Grandmama came to sit at the table with Tilda. Mrs. Acorn joined them and poured the tea.
“Not particularly.”
“Well, I’m here if you do,” Grandmama said.
“As am I,” Mrs. Acorn added.
“Thank you. I do appreciate the support.”
Grandmama’s features drew together into a serious and thoughtful expression. “Lady Ravenhurst laid things out rather clearly.”
“She did.” Tilda took another small bite of the biscuit.
“It’s nice to hear his lordship loves you,” Mrs. Acorn said with an encouraging smile.
“Tilda loves him too,” Grandmama told her.
Tilda didn’t mind her sharing that with Mrs. Acorn. The housekeeper was family to her. In many ways, she was closer to Tilda than her own mother.
“I know you want to hear what I plan to do, but I don’t know yet. And I’m sorry, but when I do, Hadrian will be the first to know.”
“As he should be, my dear,” Grandmama said. “But if you need to discuss anything, to work things out, we’re here for you.” She glanced at Mrs. Acorn who nodded.
“Let’s just drink tea and eat more of these delicious lavender biscuits please.” Tilda smiled and hoped the tea would settle her stomach and her nerves.
It did neither.
Hadrian couldn’t stand it anymore. He’d resisted calling on Tilda, telling himself he ought to wait for her to invite him. But that was absurd. He’d never stood on such ceremony before.
He’d endured two entire days without seeing her. And here it was, the third day without Tilda, and he simply couldn’t bear it.
His coach stopped in Marylebone in front of her grandmother’s house. He climbed out without waiting for his replacement coachman, Towson, to open the door.
Hadrian glanced toward the puzzled coachman. “Pardon, Towson. Sometimes, I’m overeager.”
“As you like, my lord.” Towson was a good twenty years Leach’s junior, which made him a few years older than Hadrian. He was tall and wide with a mop of dark blond hair that, together with his full cheeks, gave him the appearance of someone who looked a few years younger than Hadrian.
“I’m not sure how long I’ll be,” Hadrian said. Towson inclined his head, then climbed back onto the seat to wait.
Vaughn opened the door before Hadrian reached the step. “Afternoon, my lord. I trust you’re recuperating well from that horrible blast.”
“I am indeed, thank you.”
“What of your coachman, Mr. Leach?” Vaughn closed the door as Hadrian stepped into the entrance hall. “I quite like him.”
“I’ll tell him you said so.” Hadrian removed his gloves and hat and handed them to the butler. “He’s on the mend, thankfully, though he detests being abed.”
“I appreciate that very well, my lord. I think I’d be up and about already, and there’s nothing anyone could do about that.” He nodded perfunctorily before setting Hadrian’s accessories on a small table.
Hadrian smiled knowingly. “If I recall, that’s precisely what you did after sustaining a concussion before you came to live here.”
Vaughn inclined his head. “Just so, my lord. If you want to go into the parlor, I’ll fetch Miss Wren.” The butler ambled slowly toward the back of the house.
Hadrian walked into the parlor and noted, not for the first time, how comfortable he felt here.
This wasn’t his home, but the people here made it seem as though it could be.
He hoped Tilda felt the same about Ravenhurst House or would come to.
And what of Ravenswood? He feared she may not care for his ancestral pile.
Tilda had spent her life in London. What if she disliked living in the country, even for just a part of the year?
He tried to see things from her perspective. What if the roles were reversed and Hadrian had to give up his household to wed Tilda? He’d no longer be an earl, but Mr. Wren. Shockingly, he didn’t think he’d mind that.
How horrified his father would be. He’d instilled in Hadrian the privilege that came with being the Earl of Ravenhurst and the expectation that he must rise above those beneath him and lead.
Hadrian had no problem with leading, but he understood his privilege and that was precisely why he would not rise above anyone.
Who was he to do that based on happenstance of birth?
Perhaps that was why Hadrian had no quarrel with becoming Mr. Wren.
“Hadrian.” Tilda strolled into the room looking fresh and beautiful, her red-gold hair styled simply, and her slender form dressed in a plain but still fetching gown of dark moss-green. She smiled and appeared genuinely happy to see him. “I’m glad you’ve come. I was going to call on you today.”
“Were you?” That made him ridiculously pleased. “How fortuitous that I’ve come.”
Tilda sat in one of the chairs, and Hadrian tamped down his disappointment. He preferred when they sat together on the settee. Hadrian sat there anyway in case she decided to move.
“Is all well? How is Leach?” Tilda asked.
“Improving every day,” Hadrian replied. “He misses driving, of course. And yes, all is well. Was there a reason you were going to call on me?”
She hesitated, and small lines formed between her brows. Hadrian had the sense something was wrong, and he tensed.
“I received a note a short while ago.” She removed a folded piece of parchment from her pocket. “It arrived in an envelope marked in the same way as the second ransom notes that were mailed to the Chadwicks and the others.”