Chapter Thirteen #2
Fortunately for him, Lady Freya did not realize she was nearly lying across his lap.
Unfortunately, the donkey slowed and soon stood as before—perfectly still and unconcerned with the world.
Before he could drop the reins and she realized her position, Aaran gathered her into his embrace.
“What do we do now, my lady?” he asked as he placed a small kiss on the tip of her nose.
Unfortunately, she was having none of it.
She shoved against his shoulder. “You drive the cart back to where you left your horse. I shall return to the vicarage and send a servant for the stubborn animal and my uncle’s small cart, and you shall return to…
to wherever you planned to make your call today. ”
“What if I said I planned to call upon you today, my lady?” Aaran asked, as he lifted his gloved hand to place a strand of red hair back behind her ear.
“Please do not tell me lies, my lord,” she said softly.
There were things Aaran wanted to say to her—promises he wanted to make, but he swallowed them, for he had no right. Instead, he said as he set her from him, “My travel today held two purposes. I intended to learn more of Lady Rayland’s plans to marry my brother off to Lady Rhonda.”
Lady Freya pulled away to sit properly on the cart’s bench. “Surely if you wished to renew…”
“I do not wish Lady Rhonda for my own!” Aaran said purposely.
“But neither do I think Boyde is prepared for marriage. He has no sense of the responsibilities of running an estate nor of securing the future for his wife and children, as well as for his tenant farmers and the community surrounding his estate. Lady Rayland and the assigned overseers of Boyde’s fortune never took the time to teach him anything of his duties.
I suspect Boyde’s estate, the one he has at my insistence, is sadly being permitted to crumble to dust. He requires a boost of income to sustain his mother’s lifestyle; such will come from Lady Rhonda’s dowry. ”
“Is that what you deduced?” she asked as he used the small whip to start the donkey on its way once more.
“I did,” he responded with a frown. “Do you have another explanation, my lady?”
“Although I cannot say with honesty that I was much impressed with the younger Lord Pitcairn on either occasion of our acquaintance, I imagine he could be quite amiable if he set his mind to the task,” she declared as she caught the side of the donkey cart to maintain her balance.
“Who is to know whether he had begun to woo her while he was in London? You obviously did not keep track of all your brother’s transactions.
If so, you would not have been called upon to pay his debts to Mrs. Dove-Lyon. ”
“And I am not amiable?” he questioned with a grin. Being with this particular woman always left him wanting more.
“With others, I imagine you are quite amiable,” she declared. A long pause followed before she added, “Yet…”
“Yet what?” he asked, his curiosity sparked.
“Yet, you are frightened of me.” She stared straight ahead, refusing to look at him.
Aaran barked a laugh, but secretly he thought the lady had landed on the truth. “Then we will see if you are correct.” He reached into an inside pocket while holding the lines with the other hand. He handed a note he carried to Lady Freya. “From Miss Whitchurch,” he explained.
Though it was difficult for her to balance, Lady Freya broke the wax seal and read the short note.
“Miss Whitchurch wishes me to join the wedding party,” she explained.
Aaran already knew the contents of the letter, for he and Thompson had discussed the possibility prior to Aaran’s journey to the Rayland estate.
“For me to come to her tomorrow so I might dine with everyone. Her father is to arrive today, and she wants me to take his acquaintance. If my aunt and uncle deem it wise, she asks that they too be a part of the supper planned for Wednesday evening. Before the wedding on Thursday.”
“Will you attend?” Aaran asked. He silently prayed she would not refuse.
“I must first speak to my aunt. She and Uncle fear Lord Rayland’s disapproval,” she explained as they entered the glade where both his brother’s gig and his horse still waited.
“Miss Whitchurch—all of us, really, would know disappointment if you were not there. I also thought to offer you the use of my coach and Mr. Jamison’s services for your return to London, if that is still your wish.”
“I cannot be seen in your carriage, my lord,” she corrected.
“Then a different coach. One that is unmarked, but still Mr. Jamison as your driver. I would feel better if he saw you home,” he insisted. “He can wear everyday clothes instead of my livery.”
“I shall see if my aunt approves and send word to Miss Whitchurch,” she said tentatively as he brought the donkey cart to a halt. He handed off the reins to the lady.
“Light snap of the whip close to his ear,” Aaran instructed.
“Enjoy your visit with your brother, my lord,” she said softly.
“All the joy of today…” he began, but she took the reins from his fingers and said, “I must return to the vicarage, my lord. Thank you for your quick reaction, Lord Graham. I am in your debt once more.”
Freya returned the donkey cart to her uncle’s barn and entered the vicarage through the kitchen. Nevertheless, her aunt was inside planning meals with her cook.
“Did you have a pleasant time?” her aunt asked without looking up from where she copied out a list of supplies for their meals.
“I had a bit of trouble with the donkey, but both the elder and the younger Lord Graham assisted me,” she explained.
Her aunt stopped her transcriptions. “Are you confident you wish to associate with the Grahams, my dear? Your father would not approve.”
“Mother is aware I have struck up a friendship of sorts with Miss Whitchurch,” Freya continued to speak her half-truths, though they did not sit well with her nature.
“Her Ladyship arranged for me to assist Imelda in redecorating Lord Dickerson’s home.
Lord Thompson and Miss Whitchurch have developed a, for lack of another word, a business overlay that brings various trades together to renovate old houses and refurbish newer ones. It is really quite ingenious.”
“Lord Thompson encourages his bride to take a role in this endeavor?” her aunt asked in surprise.
“One must remember that Lord Thompson was always the son of a clergyman. His heart is in improving the lot of his fellow man. Many would think your sitting in your kitchen and choosing meals for you and Uncle Philip or shelling peas beneath the daughter of a Scottish baron, while I find your actions commendable. You are the mistress of Uncle’s house, but not one to ignore your husband’s parishioners nor those you employ.
Father would never permit my mother such liberties. ”
“No, I suppose he would not,” her aunt observed. “I feel sorry for Maeve. No one warned her of the bargain she made before she agreed to your father’s proposal. She thought being a countess would make her happy.” Aunt Felicity sighed heavily.
“Anyway,” Freya shifted the conversation to what was important.
“The elder Lord Graham carried an invitation from Miss Whitchurch for all of us to join them at Thom Manor for supper on Wednesday evening and for me to come to them tomorrow for other activities. Some of Lord Thompson’s friends are coming in from London for the wedding and staying at Thom Manor.
I would not mind a bit of society before I must marry Sir Patrick. That is, if such is acceptable to you.”
“You are still wanting the type of marriage your new friends have?” her aunt asked in sympathy.
“Something along those lines,” Freya confessed.
“How could I not? They are happy. They laugh. They sing. They support each other. I cannot imagine any of that is in my future, and, truthfully,” she continued, “I simply wish to possess a few memories to silence me when Sir Patrick treats me as my father does my mother and Dickerson does Imelda.”
“I always wanted something better for my sister,” Aunt Felicity admitted.
“Maeve had the more prestigious marriage, but I loved Philip Turner from the first time I laid eyes on him. Maeve cannot say the same of your father. I wish there were some way to bring back her spirit. She was such a loving and happy child when she was young. Now, she is broken.”
“I am convinced that neither of my parents love the other, though I wish it were so,” Freya said softly into the silence that had fallen between them.
Aunt Felicity sighed heavily. “Shall I ask your uncle about the carriage to return you to London after the marriage ceremony? Wednesday, is it?”