Chapter 14 #2
Victor turned away. He trusted Mr. Conroy to do the deed as kindly as possible but had no desire to witness the death he authorized.
Maximillion must have sensed Victor’s heaviness of heart as they returned to the manor. The large dog passed two squirrels without giving chase.
Once in the safety of his study, he sent off a note to the carpenter asking for a simple box suitable for the burial of a one-stone dog.
The second note was to Miss Godderidge asking if she would go horseback riding that afternoon, as he had a matter of import that could not wait.
He sent both notes off with his footmen.
While he awaited answers, Mr. Conroy came to the manor to let him know that Sir Galahad had passed peacefully. Victor thanked him and offered the man a drink, which was accepted.
“Do give my condolences to Miss Jane. She cared for that little runt so. He was a right smart dog too.”
“I will pass on that you gave the dog the very best of care.”
Mr. Conroy left the study in better spirits than he had arrived.
Despite the drink, Victor felt no better.
He had authorized the death of a much-loved animal.
While it did not equate to murder, he questioned whether another day might have brought a change for the better.
A hound that had been so grievously injured on a hunt would have been put down despite any feminine sensibilities to the contrary.
No, his crime, if it was one, was nothing compared to the man who had injured the animal.
An animal destined to die a slow, painful death.
Still, guilt niggled at him. Unable to discern its source, he went in search of Barlow, who would lighten his mood.
Unfortunately, Barlow sat with his mother in the breakfast room.
“There you are. We were working out plans for the house party.”
“What house party?”
“Why, the one you will host after this harvest thing is over.” Mother looked far too pleased.
“What gave you the idea that I would host a house party?” Victor glared at Barlow, who shrugged his shoulders.
“Lord Barlow was telling me how suited your place would be to one, but of course, you have never had one because of the chaperone situation. So, I have decided to stay on for another fortnight so that you can host the party of the year.”
“Mother. I. Do. Not. Host. House. Parties.” He fought to keep his jaw from clenching.
“Darling, you need a wife.”
“I will find one in my own due time.”
“Due time. How many seasons have you gone to London? Six? Seven?”
“Five. And only parts of each.”
“You are not giving yourself enough time around women. I had hopes for Miss Godderidge, but she is far too clumsy. So transparent. Twisting her ankle is the oldest trick in the book. I did not know she was so desperate. I arranged your sister’s marriage. Let me work on yours.”
Victor pinched his lips together. He was inclined to defend Miss Godderidge, but that would only fuel Barlow’s assumptions. There was no way his mother would ever arrange his marriage, even if the American preacher was correct, and the world was ending.
“Mother.” He took another breath to keep his voice calm.
“You are much mistaken about Miss Godderidge. She neither turned her ankle deliberately nor asked for the help I rendered. The lady does not have any partiality toward me at all. I have been in the area for two years, and she has made her disinterest in me quite plain. As for the house party. No. I will not hold one. Barlow is only here because he was escaping a difficult situation from the last one he attended. They are disastrous affairs with far too much sneaking about to entrap brides or grooms.”
“How do you know? To the best of my knowledge, you only went to one, and that was years ago.” Mother set her pen down and stood.
“Ask the Duke of Aylton how that one worked out for him. I saw him go into his room alone that night. He was not drunk as he had no more than I. Yet he was unaccountably tired. He went in alone. His reward? One of the most flirtatious women of the ton for a duchess.” Victor’s gaze wandered to his friend.
Barlow raised his hands in surrender. “Do not look at me, friend. I have done no more than speak a few words in passing to the duchess since that night. I prefer women with discretion.”
“How dare you speak of a duchess that way?” Mother was truly appalled. Growing up without rank, she honestly thought all members of the aristocracy were to be admired. She was one of those who did not even believe the well-documented tales of the king’s errant sons.
“Your son speaks true. If I am labeled well a rake, the duchess is my equivalent and worse. Her husband is wise to have taken her from London the moment she was discovered to be with child, with all of London asking if he is the father.”
Mother gasped. For a moment, Victor thought she might faint.
Barlow took her hand and patted it. “My apologies. I did not wish to shock your sensibilities, but Dalrymple does come by his aversion to house parties honestly. Though most are not as raucous as the one he attended, there can be an amount of debauchery at some.”
Mother fanned herself. “I have heard stories, but I never believed.”
“Then it is settled. No house party.”
Mother nodded as she fluttered her fan. “I see. No house party.”
Victor was about to launch into his second point when a footman entered with a note on a tray.
Or rather, two notes. The first was from the carpenter, writing that the box would be sent to the stables in the afternoon.
The second was the note he had sent to Miss Godderidge an hour ago. Penned at the bottom were the words.
I shall be ready to ride at two o’clock.
Only the fact that he must deliver such devastating news kept him from smiling at the line.