Chapter Two #2
People claimed Cunningham repeatedly acted as an arse because the woman had not produced an heir for his title, but Aaran thought that was a poor excuse for the man’s bitterness.
Obviously, Duncan had no heirs, but His Lordship still served society, and Duncan never once berated Lady Elsbeth for not giving him an heir.
On the contrary, Duncan realized the danger his wife placed herself in each time she did not carry a child to his birth, but, to this day, Duncan still loved his late wife, and he never once spoke ill of her.
As to Cunningham’s youngest daughter, Aaran could not understand why Lady Freya had been made to wait to marry, for she had told Annalise how she would soon be one and twenty.
“Early in the new year,” she had said. Many men would think the girl too old to marry, but Aaran was not one of them.
From where he sat, Lady Freya was a nice mix of regal grace and elegant carriage, mixed with a zest for life.
It was terrible to say, but when her father’s coach knew its repair, Aaran would likely never speak to the young woman again.
Lord Cunningham would see that any ties established today would be quickly severed, even if the lady wished otherwise.
But why would she? Aaran’s “faults” were many, from questions of his legitimacy to his bum leg and obvious scars.
No matter how much paperwork Duncan brought before the courts to prove otherwise, nor Aaran’s record of service to the government, nor the wealth he had accumulated, men like Cunningham still thought themselves superior.
Too superior to permit Aaran to become part of their family.
Freya had been highly disappointed when her father announced that they could not remain at Lord Graham’s estate an additional day and stand as witness to Lord Beaufort’s wedding.
She wished to keep Lady Annalise’s friendship, but, once again, her father had denied Freya any form of pleasure or companionship.
“I shan’t have you bothering your mother with your silly notions of keeping the Dutton girl and an Irish lord as acquaintances,” her father had warned, “and you already know my thoughts on Lord Graham.”
“Yes, Father,” she said in well-practiced obedient tones. She would like to tell him that he should be grateful for Lord Graham’s generosity, for Graham had paid for the repairs of her father’s coach, as well as providing them splendid accommodations and cordiality.
Yet, Freya would have no one to take her side.
As always, her mother remained silent, expressing no opinions of her own.
Freya’s poor mother was constantly berated for her not providing her husband an heir for his earldom, though Lady Maeve Cunningham had tried and tried again, nearly losing her own life twice.
Freya did not understand then, for she had been too young to comprehend the danger to her mother’s life in doing so.
Freya had thought her mother’s tears were because of the children’s deaths.
Now, she understood that her mother’s tears were because Lady Maeve Cunningham had not also died.
Her mother’s soul would only know peace in death, and, therefore, Freya would have no one to assist her.
Though her father often attempted to harness all of Freya’s hopes, her mother would occasionally venture a stand against her husband.
Freya had heard tales of her mother’s playful, but assertive nature from her mother’s younger sister Felicity, but she had seen none of it since being a child.
It was as if Lady Maeve had given up all her hopes when she lost the last of her children.
Of course, her mother’s strong armor was often mistaken in Town as being too proud or being unreasonable, but Freya knew it was the way Lady Maeve had learned to operate in a relationship where love no longer existed.
All her mother could depend on was the occasional compliment from her husband for her exemplary execution of her duties to his households.
“I despise Graham,” her father continued without notice of a lack of participation in the conversation by either her mother or Freya. “He believes his wealth can cover up the stink of his illegitimacy.”
Freya knew quite a few so-called Lords of the Land had started their life before the privilege of vows of marriage. She would prefer to judge a man by how he treated others, even a critic, like her father. By her estimation, Lord Aaran Graham was superior to most men in society.
“I am grieved,” Lady Annalise told Aaran as they waited for Beaufort to finish the paperwork with the rector of the local Church of England parish. “I had hoped that you and Lady Freya might…”
“Even if I were interested…” Aaran began.
“You are interested,” Lady Annalise declared. “It is written all over your face.”
“Interest cannot survive where denial reigns,” Aaran argued.
“Well, just know when Beaufort and I return to England, I shall expect you to be a regular at Beaufort House, and as Navan’s baroness and countess, I shall have the privilege of choosing who else might be guests at my table.”
“Though I adore your kind thoughts for my person, I cannot imagine a young woman of a Scottish family taking on a man of my nature,” he protested.
“You mean taking on a man who would move the earth off its rotation to make his wife happy? You have a poor opinion of the females of the world, my lord. You are perfect just as you are.”