Chapter Two
“You’ve done it now,” said Hugh Baxter, the Duke of Swynford, and one of Owen’s closest friends.
Owen groaned and rubbed his forehead. They were in the sitting room of Hugh’s home.
Normally on nights like this, they gathered at their club, but Hugh’s infant son had been feverish the day before.
Adele, Hugh’s wife, insisted that young master Edward was in perfect health now, but Hugh decided on staying nearby, just in case.
Adele now poured tea for everyone, but Owen could have really used whiskey. He cursed in Welsh, sparing the duchess.
“What has he done?” Adele asked.
Fletcher, Baron Fowler, Owen’s dearest friend, said, “He kissed Lady Grace Midwood at the Rutherford Ball and her mother walked in on them. The Midwoods are insisting Owen marry their daughter.”
“You didn’t,” said Adele, sounding scandalized. “What would possess you to do that?”
Owen did not know how to answer. He didn’t regret it, as such, although he wasn’t thrilled with his current predicament. So he just said the first thing that popped into his head. “She has very kissable lips.”
Adele frowned at Owen. “Still. She’s a pretty girl. Why do you look like marrying her would be a fate worse than death?”
Just then, Hodges, the Swynford butler, showed in Lark and Anthony, who stumbled into the room as though they’d already had a few drinks.
The trouble with being in a private sitting room and not at the club was that Lark and Anthony felt less like they needed to hide the relationship they still had not confessed to Owen.
Owen supposed he was just supposed to accept it, although he wasn’t sure he did, quite.
Anthony was a bit of a ninny, in point of fact.
Anthony brandished a bottle of whiskey. “From my own store. I found this little distillery in Ireland that makes the smoothest whiskey you’ve ever tasted. Single-malt, aged twelve years. Shall I pour?”
“A double,” said Owen.
“That bad, eh?” said Lark, sitting in a wingback chair.
“I assume you heard what happened?”
Lark offered a wry smile. “Everyone at the Rutherford Ball heard what happened. You compromised little Gracie Midwood.”
Owen sighed. “All right, first of all, she is not little Gracie anymore. Lady Grace is a grown woman. Believe me. Second of all, I…” But Owen didn’t want to go on because he was guilty of what he’d been accused of.
“You kissed her,” Fletcher offered.
“Yes. But that was all.”
“And now her parents are insisting you marry,” said Adele.
“Because in reality,” said Lark, waving his hands around, “she’s betrothed to Beresford, but Beresford has spent the last month doing everything in his power to get out of it.”
Adele stared at Lark. “Come again?”
“It was a childhood betrothal,” said Anthony.
“Two men wanting their children to marry and thus join their fortunes. Neither I nor Grace were of consenting age when the agreement was made, and I didn’t believe anyone took it seriously, but Grace has been put through two Seasons without committing to anyone, and I think calling in this chit was a last resort on her parents’ part.
And it’s possible I walked up to the Marquess of Midwood at the ball and heavily implied I was courting someone else and that Grace and I did not suit, so when his wife stumbled upon Owen making a fool of himself, they saw a new opportunity. ”
Owen grunted. “That’s about the sum of it.”
Anthony distributed glasses of whiskey and then sat on the arm of the chair Lark occupied. Lark reached up and stroked Anthony’s back while sipping his whiskey and looking at Owen. It was a gesture of affection and one done unconsciously; it was the gesture of a long-time lover.
Owen knew Lark was a good person—Anthony was an open question—but this was still a difficult thing to reconcile. Owen glanced at Adele, who looked unfazed.
But it was not his main concern at the moment, so he shoved it aside. “What Midwood said was, ‘I trust you will do the right thing here.’”
There was a collective groan.
“I think you should marry her,” said Anthony.
Everyone turned and stared at him.
“Hear me out!” Anthony looked at Owen. “I know the lot of you are averse to marriage, the duke and duchess aside, and I count myself among your ranks in that regard, but I believe this particular marriage solves a number of problems.”
“Explain,” said Owen.
“I’ve known Grace most of my life. She really is a charming girl. And that emerald gown she had on at the Rutherford Ball really showed off her coloring, no?”
“Only Beresford would note the color of her gown and not the body beneath it,” said Fletcher.
Adele cleared her throat. “Is this about to be a scandalous conversation? Shall I leave the room?”
“Fletcher will behave himself,” Hugh said, glaring at Fletcher.
“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 to you,” 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? Do you wish 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 marry me because she wants space in the 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 situation was a 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 these last 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.
“Yes, darling.”
Hugh looked intently into his wife’s eyes. “I have no regrets. Do you?”
“Not one.”
Hugh rested his chin on his wife’s shoulder. “I don’t know if ‘festival of delights’ is the phrasing I’d use, but marriage is certainly far more enjoyable than I ever imagined.”
“Yes, but you actually love your wife,” Owen pointed out.
“You and Grace may grow to love each other,” Adele said.
“That is quite common in ton marriages, is it not? If not, she is an agreeable woman and you may grow to be friends. There are a number of possibilities. Pleasing her parents by offering for her is not the worst thing that will ever happen to you.”
“I’ve known Grace my entire life,” Anthony said. “In addition to being beautiful, she is clever and practical. A good conversationalist. Kind and friendly. She has a lot of traits to recommend her.”
“Why not just follow through on the betrothal?” said Lark, sounding irritated.
“Hush. Jealousy doesn’t suit you, darling.”
Owen looked around the room. “Fletcher, you are often the voice of reason. What do you think about all this?”
Fletcher frowned. “We are of an age in which we will look increasingly ridiculous if we do not marry. Like you, I am in no hurry, but I can’t help but think that everyone here has a point.
Although, of course, I will resent you for the rest of my days for leaving me as the lone unmarried man in the group. ”
“Lark is not married.”
“Lark has Beresford.”
Owen groaned. He stood and strolled over to the table where Anthony had left the whiskey and refilled his glass. “Well, I hope to see you all at my wedding, then.”
*
Lark lived just on the other side of Grosvenor Square from Hugh, and as they left Hugh’s house, Lark invited Anthony to walk home with him.
They walked silently until they were out of earshot of Lark’s other friends, at which point Lark said, “So you would not marry some woman for the sake of appearance?”
“No,” said Anthony. He felt strongly about this point.
He felt no sexual pull toward women and knew he would struggle to consummate such a marriage.
“What is the purpose of marriage if not to legitimize heirs? I have no intention of fathering an heir. I’m leaving my estate to my cousin in my will.
I’m sure he’ll be happy to take up my title upon my death.
Likely he is already trying to engineer such an outcome. ”
“Hopefully that is many decades in the future,” said Lark. He sighed. “You don’t think marriage may have other purposes? A public commitment, perhaps? Hugh and Adele have formed a partnership, and sometimes I envy them.”
“You do?”
“Marriage and love often have little to do with each other, but there is something romantic in me that appreciates a love match.” They reached Lark’s house and Lark paused on the front stoop. “I think you must too, which is why you refuse to marry Lady Grace.”
“I do like her. Thus I want her to have a real marriage. Owen likes her enough to have kissed her, so there is some potential there. He can do things for her that I cannot.”
Lark nodded and walked up the steps of the front stoop.
Anthony followed him. When Lark opened the door, his butler was waiting there and took both of their coats.
Anthony nodded at him in acknowledgement.
Lark paid his staff handsomely for their discretion, and Anthony had long stopped caring what anyone in the house thought of his presence there.
Lark proceeded up the stairs, presumably headed for his bedchamber, so Anthony followed.
Once they were in the room, Lark said, “Part of me wishes I could marry you.”
Anthony paused, surprised by the sentiment. “What makes you say that?”
“I love you. We’ve been together for nearly eighteen months now and I do not see myself ever tiring of your company. I wish that we could walk arm-in-arm in the park the way married couples do, because I often want to touch you in public but of course cannot do so. And, well…”
Lark’s valet appeared at the doorway. Lark dismissed him with a hand gesture.
So, they were now quite alone. Anthony sat on the bed and began to wrestle off his boots.
“Couples who marry do often give a part of their heart to each other,” Lark went on. “Even if they are not a great love story, they have some affection for each other, usually. And, well, you have not just part of my heart, Anthony. You have my whole heart.”
Anthony stopped what he was doing and looked up at Lark, who stared back at him with the kind of earnestness that could break him. “Lark.”
“I’m serious. But of course, we cannot marry each other, so it does not matter.”
“It does matter,” said Anthony. He succeeded in pulling off his boots, and then he stood. “I love you. You have my whole heart as well.”
Anthony took Lark into his arms. Lark sometimes seemed to love Anthony a bit resentfully, as if this relationship was not what he wanted in life.
And yet now, Lark put his arms around Anthony’s shoulders and held him tightly.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Anthony still worried he’d lose Lark to a marriage to a woman—and that would be a true threat because Lark was attracted to men and women equally, and also was not the sort of man to commit infidelity—but for now, they had each other.
“We have a marriage of sorts,” Anthony said now. “I realize we live in separate homes and manage our lives separately, but at night, we have a partnership.”
Lark nodded against Anthony’s shoulder. “I agree.”
Anthony slid his fingers below Lark’s chin and lifted it. Then he kissed Lark soundly.
“Let us go to bed,” Lark said, rather breathlessly. “I need you tonight.”
And Anthony went, because he needed Lark, too.