Chapter Four
No one had thrown anyone overboard during the fifteen-hour journey across the Irish Sea. Duke claimed that as a victory, considering members of his own extended family were often sorely tempted to do precisely that to each other when in each other’s company for any length of time. Either the O’Doyle sisters were very patient, or they were plotting a more sinister demise for Grandmother and, quite possibly, for him.
The inn in which they’d eaten a filling supper and would be passing the night before resuming their journey struck the perfect balance between cozy and efficient. Had Father not changed the participants in this journey, Duke could have used the quiet and uncomplicated evening to rehearse the conversation he needed to have with his aunt and uncle upon reaching Fairfield. There were so many ways it could go wrong, and he needed to be prepared for all of them.
Instead, addressing Grandmother’s complaints, soothing her ruffled feathers, and shielding Eve and Nia from the bitterness he knew his grandmother was entirely capable of monopolized his time.
“I don’t suppose you could have found an inn in Holyhead that serves a meal more sophisticated than potato and leek stew.” Grandmother hadn’t hidden her disapproval during the meal and still hadn’t tired of the topic as they all sat in the comfortable, private dining room, warming themselves by a low-burning fire in a very simple fireplace.
“Cold weather calls for hot, filling meals,” Duke said as placatingly as he could manage without sounding patronizing. “The stew was a good choice.”
Grandmother was undeterred. “The bread was stale. And the butter crock was only scantily filled. I certainly hope you did not pay anything more than pennies for our stay here, Dubhán. Your father often overpaid for lodging despite my warnings. My children do not always listen to me, though they ought.”
“I have paid a fair price for our lodgings, Grandmother, I assure you.”
She eyed him more narrowly. “And you do know what a fair price would be? Your father has not always been wise in financial matters.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Duke saw Eve and Nia exchange glances. He was accustomed to conversations like this; his parents and grandparents regularly aired their endless grievances to him. But Eve and Nia ought not be subjected to it.
He knew how to stave off Grandmother’s complaints every bit as well as he did his parents’. “You have endured much,” he said to her, “and with impeccable gentility. I find myself reassured that should anything else less than ideal occur during this journey, we can all depend upon your unwavering civility to ease the way.”
Grandmother sat a bit straighter and dipped her head in acknowledgment of the compliment she clearly felt was her due.
In the silence that followed, Duke attempted to turn the conversation. To the O’Doyle sisters, he said, “We will be making an early start in the morning.”
Grandmother spoke before either sister could manage even a syllable in response. “Do you suppose the linens will be overly rough? So long a day of travel will be made far more difficult to endure if we have not slept well.”
“Your abigail arrived ahead of us, and she has, I do not doubt, been working to secure your comfort,” Duke said.
“Weaving the linens her own self, most likely,” Eve said quite seriously.
So many Irish families with aspirations and connections in English Society abandoned their accents. Duke very much liked that the O’Doyles had not. Every syllable spoke of their Irish roots.
Grandmother quickly changed topics. “Will you have your own horses for the journey tomorrow, Dubhán, or are we using a hired team?” Grandmother clearly disliked the second possibility.
“We will be using the Writtlestone team waiting for us here,” Duke said.
“A matched team?” Grandmother pressed.
“They pull well together, but they are not identical.”
Grandmother nodded. “For long journeys, a team’s ability to work together is more important than its appearance.”
“That is very true,” Nia said. “You clearly have an understanding of horses, Mrs. Seymour.”
“I should certainly hope so. I spent much of my adult life at Ballycar in County Wicklow.”
“Ballycar?” Nia was instantly enthralled, and Grandmother, Duke knew, would take up the topic with alacrity. The family’s former estate and the impressive horses that had once been bred there were a subject on which she could—and did —unabashedly brag.
Duke lowered himself onto the well-maintained sofa, grateful for a moment’s reprieve from his usual task of keeping his grandmother placated. To his surprise, Eve sat next to him.
“You look worn to a thread, Duke,” she said quietly. “Are you worried your linens will be unbearably rough?”
“It is all I can think about.”
She grinned at his dry response. Not everyone recognized his humor, but she had from their first introduction. It was one of the things about her that he’d been intrigued by during the house party the previous year. She was clever and funny, intelligent and kind. And beautiful.
“You’ve finished at Cambridge,” she said, pulling him back to the moment.
He nodded. “Only just.”
“What did you study?”
“Moral philosophy.” He’d known upon choosing the focus of his studies that it was not an obviously useful one. Plenty of people questioned what could possibly have motivated him to pick that emphasis. And he couldn’t explain it without laying bare the misery in his family.
“Now you will be a morally philosophical gentleman of leisure?” Clearly, Eve was amused at the idea, yet nothing even hinted at mockery.
“Only imagine how tedious that gives me leave to be,” Duke said. “I will spend my days judging others’ morality and life choices, likely disapproving of the way they run their estates while not having one of my own, and sauntering about Town, loudly declaring my philosophical judgments.”
“You sound eminently qualified to be a spinster, Duke. You are old, have no home of your own, and have no occupation. It’s the perfect fit.”
“I am one and twenty,” he pointed out.
In a tone dry as week-old bread, she said, “Ancient.”
“I am suddenly suspecting that you might be equally ancient.”
Eve pressed a hand to her heart. “How very uncouth of you to suggest such a thing.”
“If you are as aged as I, we might combine efforts and open a home for ancient people without estates or occupations,” he said. “No applicants under twenty-one need apply. Philosophical judgment would be an added consideration.”
“Can you guarantee our days will be spent listening to people complain about stew, linens, and the weather?” Eve asked hopefully.
“Complaints? What could possibly have put the idea of complaints into your mind?”
In a bit of painfully perfect timing, Grandmother’s voice carried over to them. “The sky was quite leaden this evening. No doubt, it will rain mercilessly tomorrow. We will all be rendered utterly wretched.”
Duke slowly shifted his gaze from his grandmother to Eve. She was biting her lips closed, a clear attempt to hold back a laugh.
“Will you promise me you won’t murder her before we reach Surrey?” Duke asked.
“Very well, but the moment we cross into that county...” She held her hands up as if to wash them of all responsibility for what would happen.
Duke had never known anyone else with eyes that could be described as silver, but the O’Doyle sisters fit the description. And Eve’s were unique even beyond that: a dark ring around the edge of the iris, a sparkle that never seemed to dim, a depth that drew a person in. He’d managed not to stare at her during their friends’ previous house party or his very brief visit to London during the past Season. It had been a difficult thing though.
He didn’t stare now, but he did watch her, curious and intrigued and confused by the pull he’d felt from their very first meeting. That he couldn’t sort it out, he who was known for sorting out everything , made the mystery all the more compelling.
“Eve, Mrs. Seymour tells me Fairfield has dozens upon dozens of horses,” Nia said.
Eve sighed dramatically. “And we’ve left our saddles at home. All hope is lost.”
Then they laughed.
Eve’s eyes crinkled at the outer corners when she laughed that way. And the faintest of dimples appeared to the right of her upturned lips.
Don’t stare, Duke. He looked away, but that placed his focus on Grandmother. It was just as well; he needed to fend off difficulties tomorrow, an effort that had to begin tonight, which meant he absolutely would not have time to work on his strategy for Fairfield.
Convincing Grandmother to retire for the night was a crucial part of that. “You need to rest, Grandmother. Tomorrow will be a very long day, and we will depend so much on your equanimity to maintain our own.”
“Many people have.” Grandmother stood very regally. “I assume you will be accompanying me to my room, Dubhán, as a guard against my being accosted by ruffians on my way.”
Duke stood as well. “I have seen nothing at this inn that leads me to believe it is overrun with ruffians.”
“It needn’t be overrun ,” Grandmother countered. “It takes only one to be accosted.”
“She is not wrong,” Eve said.
Duke turned his head slowly to look at her, feigning shock.
“I know.” She pressed a hand to her heart. “Save it for Surrey.”
Those silver eyes danced about. He didn’t dare let himself be distracted though. Grandmother could be unbearable when she felt she was not receiving the attention she was owed.
“Let us see you settled, Grandmother.”
He led her from the private dining room, the sound of the O’Doyle sisters’ laughter echoing after them. This journey would have been an endless stream of entertainment had Grandmother not been made part of it, even with the familial difficulty that awaited him at the end.
One benefit, if he could call it that, of being in company with his grandmother for the next few days, was the inescapable reminder of why he needed to make the precarious request of his aunt and uncle.
If he made his home with his parents, he would spend decades fielding their complaints and soothing their hurt feelings. The difficult moments would far outnumber the pleasant ones if he were never away from his parents. He cherished the happy memories he had with them, even if they were fewer and farther between than he wished. If he had any hope of making more, he needed an escape from Writtlestone. Though his parents frustrated and upset his aunt when they were together, he had enough experience with his aunt and uncle, during visits to London, when they were not in company with his parents, to know that they were otherwise very peaceful people.
And he needed some promise of peace.