Lord Stillwell's Excellent Engagements (3 page)

BOOK: Lord Stillwell's Excellent Engagements
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Chapter 3
August 1881
 
My dear Cousin,
We are all delighted to hear of your successes in America. Regardless, Mother would
have my head were I not to point out that in spite of the busy nature of your days
she would appreciate if she would receive letters from you more frequently than you
have managed thus far. Now that I have fulfilled my duties as loyal son and have delivered
her message, I may move on to other matters with a clear conscience.
As you know, I have now fully taken over the management of Father’s financial investments
and much of the management of the family’s properties as well. I will confess, it
has not been entirely easy and has required far more effort to prove myself worthy
of his confidence and trust than I had imagined. Nonetheless, I have managed to do
so and humbly note I am well pleased with myself, as is Father. Furthermore, I will
be forwarding you a substantial sum to invest in your next venture. No thanks are
necessary. I simply wish to share in your financial acumen. But that is not the only
purpose for my letter.
Once again, I beg you to arrange your affairs to the point where you can return to
England for a visit. And a wedding. Yes, it’s true. I am engaged to be married.
I can see the grin on your face now, Gray, and I am always glad when the important
events in my life provide you with a source of amusement.
I have no doubt I have now found the perfect woman. Lady Eustice, Lucille, is the
widow of Sir Charles Eustice and is a lovely creature with a mind nearly as sharp
as my own. There is nothing more enjoyable than engaging in stimulating debate of
an intellectual nature with my Lucy. I suspect the passion she shows in our verbal
dueling will be matched by passion of a more intimate nature, although I will confide
to you that nothing untoward has occurred between us. Much to my regret. But Lucy
is quite cognizant of proper behavior. I know you are thinking one of us should be.
We met quite by accident at the office of her late husband’s solicitor, who is my
solicitor as well. Then met again at the opera. And once more at a dinner at the home
of mutual friends. By then, we both agreed fate had obviously taken a hand and we
would be foolish not to acknowledge it. After all, one should never defy fate. We
have seen a great deal of each other in recent months and she has agreed to become
my wife.
We have decided on a small, discreet affair here at Fairborough Hall with only our
family and closest friends in attendance. But I cannot face another wedding without
you by my side so do consider returning home no later than September tenth, as I should
like to spend the last days of my bachelor life with my cousin and my closest friend.
Nor can I wait for you to meet Lucy. You will like her, Gray. She is as lovely as
she is sensible. I assure you, intelligence and beauty is not an easy combination
to find. She will one day make an excellent countess.
Mother likes her a great deal....
“You’ve come a long way, my boy.” Father closed the ledger book with a heavy
thunk
as befitted its serious nature. He had two such ledgers. In this one he kept an accounting
of business endeavors and investments; the other was dedicated to matters regarding
property including Fairborough Park and the house in London. Father was nothing if
not well organized. He set the book aside on the desk. “I must confess, I wasn’t sure
you would take to this as well as you have.”
“Were you afraid Gray had inherited all the business expertise in the family?” Win
said with a wry smile. He sat in the chair positioned in front of the mahogany desk
that had served any number of previous Earls of Fairborough and would, God willing,
serve those yet to come. Win had sat in this precise position more times than he could
count through the years, more often than not when he was being called to task for
some infraction or other. Odd to be sitting here now not as recalcitrant offspring
but as something more akin to an equal.
“Not at all.” Father shook his head. “I’ve never had any doubts as to your competence
or intelligence. It was your desire that was in question. Grayson had something to
prove, if only to himself. You do not.”
“True enough.” Win’s cousin, Gray, had lost his parents at an early age. Win’s family
had taken him in and, to Win’s observation, had never treated him, or thought of him,
as anything less than their own. But when the woman Gray loved threw him over for
a man with a title and fortune, his cousin left England to build a fortune of his
own. “You do realize he isn’t aware that I told you about that business with Miss
Channing, or rather, Lady Lydingham now?”
Father nodded. “Nor shall I tell him that your mother and I know.” He paused. “Do
you think he will return for this wedding of yours?”
“I doubt it.” Win shrugged. “I have asked him, but I am not counting on his presence.
I suspect we will not see him until he has accomplished what he has set out to do.”
“Pity.” Father shook his head. “Your mother misses him.”
“As do we all.” Gray was more than a cousin to him. In every respect save blood, they
were brothers and Gray was, as well, his closest friend. Regardless, Gray had always
been his own man. “Still it would be good to have him here.”
“About this wedding . . .” Father began.
“Yes?”
Father pulled open his bottom drawer and withdrew his bottle of whiskey and two glasses.
Win raised a brow. “So, this is to be one of those talks, is it?”
“Don’t be absurd.” Father scoffed and filled the glasses. “Can a man not celebrate
the companionship of his only son with a glass of good whiskey?” He slid a glass across
the desk toward Win.
“What about the wedding?” Win hefted the glass and took an appreciative sip. His father
did know his whiskey.
“I assume, from what your mother has said, that the preparations are all in order,”
Father said in an overly casual manner.
“In truth, I have no idea. It seems the groom is of little use in the planning of
weddings. Therefore I have done the intelligent thing and stayed out of it.”
“Very wise.” Father paused. “While your mother and I have urged you to find a suitable
bride, I do hope our encouragement has not pushed you in the wrong direction.”
Win frowned. “What do you mean?”
Father shifted uneasily in his chair. “After the last . . .”
“Failed engagement? Cancelled wedding? Embarrassing incident? Humiliating debacle?”
Win cast his father a dry look. “Do feel free to stop me at any time.”
“I was going to simply say
time
, but I suppose all of those are fairly accurate.” Father shook his head. “I was quite
proud of you, you know. I can’t imagine it was easy to keep the exact circumstances
of the termination of the engagement to yourself. To allow the world to place the
fault at your feet rather than hers, thus protecting her reputation.”
“If you recall, I have never had a reputation particularly worthy of protection.”
Father raised a shoulder as if it was of no consequence, yet another indication of
their ever-changing relationship. There was a time when Win’s less than stellar past
behavior would have prompted at the very least a stern lecture from his father and
accompanying worried looks from his mother. The kind that suggested she feared he
would come to a bad end and she could do nothing to prevent it save pray to a higher
power. “Nor did I at your age.”
Win had long suspected as much.
“Pity your gallantry was undeserved.” Father snorted. “It would have gone far better
for her had she been smart enough to have waited more than a few weeks to announce
her engagement to another man.”
“Still, while I wasn’t at the time, I am grateful to her at this point. I could have
married the wrong woman instead of biding my time and waiting for the right one.”
“I did think twenty-five was a bit young to marry at any rate.”
“And yet you never said a word.”
“It wasn’t easy.” Father chuckled. “Why, I didn’t wed until I had passed my thirty-first
year.”
Win studied his father for a long moment. Very often what his father didn’t say was
every bit as important as what he did say. He chose his own words with care. “But
you think twenty-seven an acceptable age?”
“I’m not sure age truly matters when one is certain one has found the right woman.”
Father had long been a master of evasive answers. He leaned back in his chair and
considered his son over the rim of his glass. “As you have done.”
“Indeed I have,” Win said staunchly.
“And you are certain?”
“I haven’t a doubt in my mind.” Which wasn’t entirely the truth, but that was not
something he wished to admit to his father or, for that matter, to himself. It was
bad enough to have chosen the wrong woman once. Twice, well, he pushed the thought
from his head. Lucy was definitely not the wrong woman.
They had arrived at Fairborough Hall nearly a week ago and the wedding was still a
week away. Lucy had sensibly suggested they come to the country early so that she
might better know his parents and his country house. It was an excellent idea and
indeed the week had gone quite well for the most part. Lucy did have a tendency to
comment on things that might be run more efficiently, both at the hall and in the
gardens and the village, with the unsaid implication that when she was the Countess
of Fairborough, changes would be made. He had noted a similar inclination in London
to suggest changes on various aspects of the family house in Mayfair: furnishings,
servants and whatever struck her as needing improvement. As well as occasionally on
his attire, his selections at dinner or his fondness for brandy and cigars. He’d dismissed
it in town; it was part and parcel of getting to know one another after all. Indeed
he’d found it rather charming. But here in the country, the place he loved best in
all the world, where he never felt so much himself, here . . .
“That’s all that matters then, isn’t it?”
Win’s attention jerked back to his father. “What?”
“That you haven’t any doubts about your impending nuptials.”
“Yes, of course,” Win murmured.
“It’s a big step, you know—marriage that is.”
“I am aware of that, Father.”
“Lady Eustice is, oh, a sensible, responsible choice.” He paused. “More so than your
last fiancée.”
“I am aware of that as well. Indeed, no one is more aware of it than I.”
Father hesitated. “She’s not at all the type of woman I expected you to choose.”
Win chuckled. “Nor did I.”
“You are selecting the next Countess of Fairborough, the woman who will be your mother’s
successor.” Father took a sip of his whiskey. “It looks to me that Lady Eustice is
well up to that challenge. She shall make an excellent countess.”
“I have no doubts about that whatsoever,” Win said firmly.
“She is quite cognizant of proper behavior. A very reserved sort. One might even say
cold. But I’m sure, as we grow to know her better, she will warm to us,” he added
quickly.
“I would think so.” Still, Lucy did have a tendency to be aloof. Yet another quality
he hadn’t really noticed before.
“She will no doubt make an excellent wife.”
“Absolutely.”
“By your side for the rest of your days.”
“As it should be.”
“Exactly.” Father nodded in a sage manner. “Every day, every night for the rest of
your life.”
“Most certainly.”
“Until the very moment you breathe your last.”
“Of course,” Win said, forcing a bit more enthusiasm than he felt. Could he be with
Lucy for the rest of his days? Until he breathed his last was a very long time.
As much as he hated to acknowledge it, he hadn’t truly considered the unending permanence
of marriage until this past week. But then he hadn’t spent as much continuous time
with Lucy in London as he had since their arrival at Fairborough Hall. Even the fact
that she preferred Lucille to Lucy had escaped his notice until now. There were other
aspects of her nature as well. Minor things, really, that he had paid no attention
to, discounting them as unimportant. He had always found a great deal of freedom in
the country. He was beginning to suspect Lucy—Lucille—would much prefer to spend her
days in town. He was starting to wonder as well if he had made yet another rash decision.
He pushed the thought from his head. Lucy was a sensible match.
“There’s nothing dishonorable in honesty, you know,” his father said in an offhand
manner. “In admitting one has perhaps made a mistake.”
Win met the earl’s gaze directly. “I shall remember that, Father, the next time I
find myself in that position.”

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