Chapter 1 #2
Thus, Caspian had made it known to the world that he would never wed. When his father died and he inherited his title, he doubled down on this assertion, adopting a life of drinking and gambling and any activity he could think of that might warn would-be debutantes away.
Not that it helped.
Despite Caspian’s reputation, he was still a duke, and he knew that should his cousin make it known that he was searching for a wife, the list of those women desperate to be named a duchess would be endless.
“I will make it as painless as possible.” Penelope must have been able to read his mind. Or maybe she could just see the defeated and objectionable look on his face? “I know what you like and do not like. I know who might be good for you.”
“It will be a short list of contenders if you do that,” he laughed bitterly. “This place… no one cares who they marry, only that they are titled. Ambition to call themselves a duchess, a driving will to set themselves apart from the rest. That is all they want.”
“And you care?” Penelope asked. “Do not tell me that you seek a love match.”
“Of course I do not!” he snapped at her.
A love match… does such a thing even exist?
She scoffed. “Leave it with me, Caspian. And please, just trust me. Timothy needs a mother, and dare I say that you might also benefit from having someone in your life, too.”
“Now you go too far.” He glanced at his cousin and saw the sadness in her eyes because she knew his loneliness and the reason for it. “See it done,” he sighed in defeat. “Names only, Penelope. No promises. No guarantees. This is not me saying yes, merely me considering it.”
Her smile was neither warm nor hopeful. Rather, it told him what Caspian already knew: that whoever she chose, the marriage sure to come would be one of coldness and misery because that was the only thing that Caspian was capable of offering.
“I will see it done,” she said. “For Timothy, Caspian. Remember that.”
“For Timothy,” he agreed as he turned back to the fire.
This was not for himself. This was not so that Caspian might one day find happiness. Such a state of being was not something he believed in, and to think differently or hope would only lead to the type of pain he knew too well.
But for Timothy… the boy was not as broken as he appeared, and so there was hope that his life might improve. Truly, that was the only thing that kept Caspian’s objections, of which there were many.
Penelope’s garden party had been ill-timed, in Caspian’s opinion. Not because of anything that she had done, but because the moment that it started, a storm swept across the estate and forced the party-goers indoors.
As luck had it, that storm was fleeting, and no sooner was Caspian walking from the drawing room to find Timothy than Penelope directed her guests back into the garden so they might continue their festivities.
Caspian, of course, had no intention of joining them.
I will find Timothy, and we will leave.
Frustratingly, Timothy was nowhere to be seen, nor was Miss White.
Caspian avoided heading into the garden, instead sweeping the interior of the manor, hoping he might find his nephew so he could avoid seeing and talking to anyone.
But after fifteen minutes of searching, he was empty-handed, and with no other choice, he was forced to face the party.
The moment Caspian stepped outdoors, he was promptly reminded of why he avoided these types of gatherings in the first place.
“Your Grace!” Lady Miranda Eastwood, a close friend of Penelope’s, was on him as soon as he stepped into the garden. “There you are! I have been looking everywhere for you.”
“You have found me.” Caspian swept his eyes over the busy party, searching out Timothy. The boy had to be somewhere!
“I was hoping to introduce you to my daughter…” Lady Eastwood turned slightly, searching for her daughter to come and greet him. “She is lovely, Your Grace. I know the two of you will get along famously.”
“Another time…” Caspian put his head down and charged ahead.
“When would that be?” Lady Eastwood called, to which Caspian did not respond.
A few steps later Caspian found himself facing down Lady Whitmore. She was also close with the Dowager Duchess of Marlborough, and she had a daughter whom she was certain Caspian would love.
“Let me find her for you,” Lady Whitmore said. “She has been so eager to meet you.”
“I am afraid I cannot stay,” Caspian said as he stepped around her, still searching for Timothy. “But thank you.”
“Your Grace!” a cry from a different lady. “A moment, please!”