Page 4 of Married to the Lord

Chapter Two

Pausing, Miles debated his options. Follow Augusta and confront her as to why she might run from him or give up and turn around. He rotated on his heel. Why he should cause such wide-eyed fright in the petite girl, he did not know, but it was highly likely to do with his brother Henry.

Bloody Henry.

If only his damned brother would return and marry the poor girl. Lord knows, she had been waiting long enough.

He returned to the table where Walsingham and Roberts watched him with amused grins. He sank onto the chair and ignored the smug look in his friends’ eyes.

“Not often we see a lady run away from you, Ashwick. It was quite a sight.”

Miles glanced up at Walsingham and offered him a cold look.

Roberts chuckled. “I cannot deny it was not ever something I thought I would see.”

Blowing out a breath, Miles finished off the glass of port in front of him. “I do not blame Augusta one jot for not wishing to speak with me. It seems the sins of my brother have been cast upon me. And Lord knows, she probably blames me for not ensuring that he has returned home to fulfill his duty to her.”

Walsingham shrugged. “Henry has always been a free spirit. We were all surprised when he proposed to Miss Snow so quickly.”

Miles clasped the empty glass, squeezing the delicate stem between several fingers. He had been surprised too. They had known Miss Snow and her family for decades and Henry had never shown any interest in her until her debut. One season later, and they were engaged. Miles could still remember his brother coming to him and telling him of his intention to wed her. His gut clenched even now.

He released the stem of the glass and forced his hands to relax. “Whether he offered for her hand too quickly or not, he made a commitment. I intend to ensure he sees it through. Somehow.”

“Where is he at the moment anyway?” Roberts asked.

Miles shook his head. “By the time I receive his letters, he has moved on. Last I heard, he was in the Baltics.”

“You could cut him off,” Walsingham suggested. “He won’t get very far without funds.”

“I promised my father I would never do such a thing. Unfortunately, I think he was all too aware of Henry’s nature before his death. Besides which, my mother would never let it happen. She would probably disown me first.”

“She’s a pretty girl, you ought to ensure he returns home with haste. She will not wait around forever.” Roberts refilled all their glasses from the bottle.

If only that was true. He suspected the devoted Augusta would wait forever for Henry. If only she would break off their engagement it would solve all their problems, but she would never do such a thing. And he could not ask it of his brother or else he would scandalize her for life.

Even if it did free of her of Henry. This foolish brother did not deserve the sweet Miss Snow one bit.

Miles watched the dancers in front of them, twirling gleefully with a joy he could not feel. He seldom attended events like this but he had known Brook Waverley since he was a boy and could hardly turn down an invite to his engagement ball.

Walsingham leaned back in his chair. “You know, I thought you might offer for her once upon a time. You seemed rather sweet on her.”

Miles was about to take a sip of his port. Thankfully he didn’t or else he might have choked on it. “Offer for her?”

Walsingham lifted his shoulders. “Did you not have that history together? Spending time together as children etcetera?”

“It is hardly history. We did spend some time together as children but I’m four years her senior and could hardly count myself as interested.” The lie felt true enough seeing as he had told it to himself many a time over the years.

Roberts wagged a finger at him. “Now that’s not true.”

“I was never interested,” Miles insisted.

“No, what I mean is that you do share history. You saved her life once, is that not right?” Roberts pressed.

Walsingham nodded. “Oh yes, I recall the story. She nearly drowned, did she not? I remember some piece about it in the papers years later—regaling you as some kind of hero.”

Miles tried not think of that day. He had been convinced that Augusta was dead when he hauled her from the lake at his father’s estate. She had been thirteen and he almost an adult and she had seemed so fragile in his arms. Thankfully he had managed to get her to cough up any water she swallowed and she recovered quite rapidly. But he did not consider that history as such. No, she and Henry had shared many more memories.

Perhaps, if he had not been so busy with taking up his position as viscount when their father had passed, he would have been able to step in and talk to his brother—ensure that the match never happened. Alas, he had been dealing with the grief of his mother, himself, and all that came with taking over his father’s role—not to mention the mess he’d created by living a less than angelic lifestyle previous to his sudden elevation to lordship. He regretted deeply he had not been more involved in his brother’s affairs.

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