Chapter Fourteen
The question carried implications that made her pulse quicken. This was the time to talk about his feelings. “That would depend on whether there’s a reason for me to be included in the family gallery again,” she replied carefully.
His gaze was steady, searching. “I think there might be,” he said, his voice low. “Like you, suddenly I’m hopeful.”
“I know money is a necessity in your marriage, but I’m not the only woman with a decent sized dowry.”
“That is very true. If I simply wanted money from a marriage, I would not be courting you. There are less complicated options. I want more from a marriage that will span the rest of my life and involve Ava-Marie.”
Joy blossomed in her chest, tempered with caution. “We still have much to learn about each other,” she reminded him. Mostly she wanted to learn what was in his heart, but she was too scared to push. Besides, they had promised each other two weeks.
“Yes,” he agreed, “we do.”
A comfortable silence fell between them, broken only by the patter of rain against the windows. Courtney was acutely aware of him beside her—his height, his presence, the subtle scent of sandalwood and leather that seemed to cling to him.
“I should check on Ava-Marie,” he said finally. “Thank you for the tour. It’s given me much to think about.”
“You’re welcome,” she replied, watching as he moved toward the door. He paused on the threshold, turning back to her.
“Courtney,” he said, his voice serious. “I know I can’t give you certainty yet—about us, about what I feel. But I want you to know that I’m trying to open my heart again, to trust. It’s not easy for me.”
The simple honesty of his statement moved her deeply. “I know,” she said softly. “Most things worth having rarely come easily.”
He nodded, his expression thoughtful, then left her alone with the portraits of his ancestors—and her younger self, whose painted eyes seemed to hold secrets and hopes that her present self was only beginning to rediscover.
The rain continued into the evening, drumming steadily against the windows as they gathered in the small family dining room for dinner.
The space was intimate compared to the grand formal dining room, with a table that seated just ten comfortably.
Candles flickered in silver holders, casting a warm glow over the assembled party.
Conversation flowed easily through the meal.
Julian spoke enthusiastically about the condition of the estate’s northern fields, while Serena described the book she was currently reading to Ava-Marie—a tale of knights and dragons that had captivated the child’s imagination.
Caitria, usually reserved, shared amusing anecdotes about Ava-Marie’s attempts at hiding from her in the big house.
Courtney found herself watching Lucien throughout the meal.
He seemed more relaxed than she’d seen him since his return to England, laughing at Julian’s hunting stories and asking thoughtful questions about the estate’s potential.
The role of country lord suited him, she realized—perhaps better than that of London gentleman had ever done.
He fitted here but he seemed to find fitting into London life much harder.
She realized if they married, he’d want to spend most of his time here.
Would she be happy with that kind of life?
As the final course was cleared away, Ava-Marie tugged at her father’s sleeve. “Papa, may I play the pianoforte for everyone? Aunt Lauren has been teaching me, and I hope to practice while I am here so I can show her how much I have improved when we go home.”
Silence greeted Ava-Marie’s mention of home being in London. Courtney knew Lucien thought of this country estate as home. He smiled down at his daughter. “If you think you’re ready.” Ava-Marie clapped her hands in glee.
They adjourned to the music room, where Ava-Marie, with Serena’s assistance, played a simple tune with remarkable concentration.
Her small fingers were still clumsy on the keys, but her determination was evident in her furrowed brow and the tip of her tongue caught between her teeth in concentration.
When she finished, they all applauded enthusiastically, making the child beam with pride.
“My sister plays beautifully too,” Julian said, giving Courtney a warm glance. “Perhaps she might favor us with a piece?”
“Oh yes, please!” Ava-Marie exclaimed, sliding from the bench to make room. “Papa says all young ladies need to learn how to play so I know you must be able to because you are a proper lady.”
Proper lady? She’d have to talk with Ava-Marie about her comment. Had someone made her feel inadequate? Courtney took her place at the instrument, her fingers finding the keys with practiced ease. “Any requests?” she asked, looking up at Lucien.
“Whatever moves you,” he replied, his eyes holding hers for a moment longer than necessary.
She began with a Mozart sonata, one she knew well enough to play without complete concentration, allowing her to observe the room as she performed.
Julian and Serena sat close together on a small settee; their hands entwined.
Caitria had taken Ava-Marie onto her lap in a comfortable armchair near the fire.
And Lucien—Lucien stood by the pianoforte, watching her with an intensity that made her fingers nearly falter on the keys.
As she played, she recalled evenings just like this on her first and last trip to his home as his fiancée before he’d left for Ireland.
How he would stand in that exact spot, turning the pages of her music, occasionally reaching out to brush his fingers against hers when the others weren’t watching.
Those stolen touches had been thrilling then—the promise of more intimate caresses to come when they were finally wed.
When she finished the piece, Lucien was the first to applaud, his expression appreciative. “Beautiful,” he said simply. “Would you play something else?”
She nodded, transitioning into a church song by Bach, the melancholy notes filling the room with sweet sorrow.
This had been their piece—the one she’d played on the night before he left for Ireland, the night they had finally given in to the passion that had been building between them for months.
The semi-innocent foreplay and kissing at the cottage was no longer enough. Not if he was leaving.
Glancing up, she saw he was moved by her playing. He moved closer, his hand coming to rest on the pianoforte, inches from her shoulder.
“This was important to us,” he said quietly, his voice pitched for her ears alone.
“Yes,” she confirmed, not breaking the flow of the music. “I played it the night before you left. Our last night together.”
Understanding dawned in his eyes. “The night we—”
“Yes,” she interrupted, a flush rising to her cheeks. “That night.”
His gaze darkened, dropping briefly to her lips before returning to her eyes. “I wish I could remember it,” he murmured.
“So do I,” she replied softly. “It was a very special moment for me—for us.” It was the first time she’d shared a regret, but she didn’t care. He needed to understand how she felt.
The nocturne built toward its climax, her fingers drawing emotion from the keys that reflected the tumult in her heart. When the final notes faded away, the room remained silent for several heartbeats, as if everyone present had been transported by the music.
“I think it’s past someone’s bedtime,” Caitria observed eventually, noting how Ava-Marie’s head had drooped against her shoulder.
“But I’m not tired,” the child protested, her words immediately contradicted by a wide yawn.
Lucien crossed to his daughter, lifting her into his arms with practiced ease. “Say goodnight to everyone, little one.”
Ava-Marie dutifully bid them all goodnight, her small arms wrapped around her father’s neck as he carried her from the room.
Courtney’s heart squeezed at the sight—the tenderness with which he held his child, the gentle way he pressed a kiss to her forehead.
The way he still took his daughter to bed as he would have done in Ireland, regardless of the fact that he had staff to do that.
“Well,” Julian said, rising from his seat, “I believe I’ll retire as well. It’s been a long day.”
“I’ll be up in a little while,” Serena replied. “I haven’t had a chance to catch up properly with Courtney.”
Courtney smiled at her sister-in-law for her kindness. It would be good to talk to Serena about the emotions swirling within her.
Once the ladies were alone, Serena asked, “Shall I call for tea or would something a bit stronger do, like a sherry?”
“Sherry, I feel.”
“Like that, is it?”
She shrugged her shoulders and sighed. “Sometimes I look at him and see my old Lucien and then other times, I see the haunted look in his eyes and see his pain. I don’t know how to help him or what he wants from me.”
Serena handed her a sherry. “I think he’s still the honorable man he was all those years ago and he feels trapped. He needs money and he knows a marriage to you brings him that, but he likes you and doesn’t want to trap you in a marriage you may grow to regret.”
“That’s not it. He could marry for money tomorrow.
I know several wealthy families with marriageable daughters who would jump at the chance for a title—and he’s handsome enough to turn any woman’s head.
No. There is something else worrying him.
If I didn’t know better, I’d say it is something about me that troubles him.
” Courtney couldn’t help but feel he was keeping something from her.
“Have you heard anything that I’m unaware of? ”
Serena shook her head. “Nothing.”
She sighed. “Maybe it’s nothing to do with me, but that he is still so in love with his wife that the idea of remarrying is repugnant to him.”