Chapter Fifteen #3
“Both Navan and I are accustomed to such stratagems. Assist Thompson in settling the others,” Orson instructed.
Aaran swallowed his objection and accepted his role in their group. “Are you well, Lady Freya?” he asked as his brothers, guns in hand, entered the wood line.
The lady was dusting the leaves from her cape. “We must stop meeting this way, my lord,” she instructed without looking up at him.
“And here I thought I was saving your life again,” he said with a chuckle of admiration.
“Again?” she said as her hands fisted on her hips. “No one shot at me until I came to Kent and associated with you, my lord.”
Aaran paused to look upon her in a serious manner. At length, he said, “Such is an excellent reason to stay away from me,” he said as he purposely turned his attention to where Thompson again assured everyone all were safe.
“I shall be leaving after the wedding tomorrow,” she said softly. “Our paths will likely never cross again. My father and Sir Patrick will see to the remainder of my days. You have no more worries for my well-being, my lord. Enjoy your life, wherever your feet carry you.”
Aaran placed a marker in the book he held but could not honestly say he had read. His mind was too full of Lady Freya Cunningham to read. The lady had walked back to the manor house with Thompson’s servants and had quickly excused herself from his brothers’ ladies and, of course, from him.
Orson and Beaufort had confirmed the presence of someone in the woods, for there were fresh prints in the damp mud, but there was no means for them to follow in the darkness. “I will have a look around before we go to the church tomorrow,” Orson had declared.
“And I will have my land agent post people about the house,” Thompson said once the women left Aaran and his brothers to their brandies and conversation. Thompson had already posted two footmen at the dower house to keep Miss Whitchurch and his mother safe.
“It truly could have been a poacher,” Marksman said into the silence that had fallen between them.
“Our doubt comes from the life we have chosen for ourselves,” Hartley added.
“Duncan decided for me,” Orson said with a salute of his glass to the others, including Duncan.
“You each required the type of discipline sadly lacking in your lives after the demise of your parents,” Duncan countered. “Otherwise, you would never have known your potential.”
“It is maddening, Your Lordship, for you to be correct all the time,” Thompson announced good-naturedly.
“Not all the time,” Duncan corrected. “Evidently, I have crossed hairs with someone we have never considered. I wish my sins were not making your lives miserable.”
“None of us are miserable,” Beaufort said with a grin, “except perhaps Graham.”
“I am not miserable,” Aaran countered.
“Then you are happy that Lady Freya is departing tomorrow?” Thompson asked. “I can guarantee that Victoria is not pleased with her new friend leaving.”
“Neither is Emma,” Orson added.
“Definitely the same for Annalise,” Beaufort added. “My wife feels bad because she encouraged Lady Freya to come to Kent.”
“None of your wives possessed a parent who objected to your attentions upon his daughter,” Aaran argued.
“I was surprised,” Mr. Whitchurch said, “but I held no objections.”
Duncan added, “I would have preferred that Theodora had waited another year or so, but I did not object to her joining with Marksman. They will be close in my latter years.”
Beaufort accused, “Marksman was not happy to lose Annalise so quickly.”
“I would have preferred to have been provided the opportunity to give her an elegant society wedding,” Marksman corrected. “However, my sister assures me this is the happiest time of her life. That is what I always wanted for her.”
“Emma’s parents are nearly as incompetent in the role of caregiver as were my parents,” Orson admitted. “Her Ladyship and I have had multiple conversations on how our lives might have been different if not for one night in Covent Garden.”
“Your wives had incompetent or missing parents,” Aaran argued.
“Lady Freya simply has a despot for a father. If she aligns herself with me, everyone in her family will turn his or her back on the lady. Everything about her—every memory associated with her family—would no longer exist. They would remove every picture, every stitch of her clothing, every record of her in the family Bible. I cannot, in good conscience, permit her to suffer simply by becoming my wife. What future would we have if she comes to resent me?”
“Yet, you will permit her to marry Sir Patrick Hodge?” Duncan questioned.
“We all have heard the rumors regarding the possibility that the baronet beat his first wife to death because she did not present him with an heir for the baronetcy.” Aaran did not want to possess knowledge of something so visceral and private to address with his conscience regarding Lady Freya’s future.
What would he do if he learned Hodge had struck her?
Likely, a midnight call on the man would be required.