Chapter One #2
We had completed our last investigation agreeing to wed within a week. The duchess had suggested we wait a month, lest our wedding breakfast menu consist of cold eggs and day-old bread.
Neither Hyperia nor I had cared one whit for the menu, but we did esteem the duchess, and wanted to get off on a good foot with her.
“Her Grace will join our royal progress,” I said, trying not to sound despairing. “She enjoys the seaside.” Though in the name of all that was reasonable, what new husband wanted his mother underfoot on his wedding journey?
“She speaks highly of Mr. Pierce.” Hyperia passed me a section of her orange. “I gather their paths have crossed in the occasional salon. The duchess says if books such as Mr. Pierce’s had been around in your childhood, Harry might have turned out to be a better scholar.”
Harry’s name was not the blight on our conversations that it would have been even a year ago, but nothing about my late brother was a happy thought.
“Leander would enjoy meeting Mr. Pierce, I’m sure,” I said, then regretted the words. What was I doing, making Hyperia’s arguments for her? She was blazingly capable of holding up her side of any debate.
“I was thinking more of Atticus,” she said. “He disdains letters, but if he could see that skill with the pen can make a man respected and well set up, he might revise his stubborn opinion.”
Atticus simply lacked Leander’s aptitude for book learning.
He did not disdain literacy, so much as reading and writing were hard for him, and had thus far failed to yield him any noticeable advantages.
Skill in the saddle, a willingness to work, and to do a reliably good job were respected in Atticus’s equine world.
Perhaps I could persuade Pierce to write some horse stories.
I recognized the thought for the surrender it was.
“Do you want to make this journey for the sake of the boys, Hyperia, or for your sake? We can invite Pierce and his family here to the Hall, and he will likely come out of respect for Her Grace. If it’s the wedding by the sea you long for, that’s a different matter. ”
“I want both, Jules. I want that wedding by the sea, and I want the boys to have a memorable holiday. We have been so busy investigating in recent months that we haven’t had a proper holiday ourselves, and that does not bode well for our married habits.”
“A valid point. Children should not be expected to endure endless toil.”
Hyperia popped the last of her orange into her mouth. “Neither should grown men who spend hours every day on estate business when they aren’t investigating every potentially scandalous conundrum polite society tosses at them, because Lord Julian Caldicott will never fail what he sees as his duty.”
“I like investigating.” In fact, I needed the occasional vexatious puzzle to… to what? Keep sharp skills earned in wartime? To feel useful and necessary? To feel important? To feel alive?
“You don’t rest enough, Julian, and we must undertake to reform that sorry habit immediately.”
“Beloved, I strongly suspect that once we are married, I will be spending a great deal more time in bed, and that the effects of this change will be deeply reviving whether or not I am resting in the strictest sense.”
I was flirting, also dodging Hyperia’s accusation.
I did not rest enough—I could not sleep well most nights—and my record in this regard was unbroken well before Waterloo.
Marriage was more likely to have a detrimental effect on Hyperia’s sleep than a salubrious effect on mine, if she preferred that we share a bed.
We hadn’t discussed our sleeping arrangements either. Too busy investigating, perhaps. More likely, I did not want to hear that she preferred her own quarters, after the manner of most couples with sufficient means.
“The sea is marvelous for rebalancing the humors,” she said.
“If you would rather have a quiet little ceremony in the family chapel, we can do that. We can do two ceremonies, if you prefer, but I fear that Lady Ophelia’s offer might not be repeated, and not because she lacks the generosity of spirit to extend it. ”
More artillery. I considered what facts I knew, and kicked myself for my oversight. “The Season is reaching its crescendo, and her ladyship has already repaired to the seaside. She would hardly quit Town early for anything less than her health.”
At my last sighting of her, Lady Ophelia had seemed slightly diminished. Not aged so much as faded. The sparkle was still there, the inherent grace, the snap and energy of a vivacious mind, but the bodily temple was growing less robust, even frail.
Lady Ophelia was at least of an age with my mother, a daunting realization.
I stood no chance against Hyperia’s arguments when taken together: Lady Ophelia’s delicate health, the need for the boys to have some leisure, the appeal of the seaside to Hyperia’s imagination, and my mother’s insistence on a bit pomp and forethought regarding the wedding particulars.
“We shall be wed by the sea,” I said, trying to surrender with good grace, “and make lasting memories for every member of the wedding party, including the bride and groom.”
“Thank you, Jules.” Hyperia deposited herself in my lap, and treated me to such passionate kisses that all thoughts of tempests and troubles flew from my head, replaced by thoughts—if one could call them that—of a very husbandly nature.
Order your copy of A Gentleman of Very Few Words!