Page 32 of Forget Me Not

Chapter Twelve

She had already given upon being happy. Lucas had attempted to make sense of that declaration in the twenty-four hours since Julia had made it, but he couldn’t. Not entirely. He could understand that she was uncertain or nervous or overwhelmed. He himself felt a bit out of his depth. But to say so bluntly that she didn’t expect anything better than mere contentment... Their parents had created an even bigger mess than he had realized.

He tossed a stick across the wide expanse of lawn. His dog, an energetic white terrier with quite a few years behind him, chased after it. Lucas had worried that Pooka would forget him entirely while he was away on his Grand Tour. A year was a long time. But the enthusiastic welcome he had received from his four-legged friend had put even his parents’ joy to shame. He and Pooka had been playing fetch for thirty minutes, their second time that day alone, their third since Lucas’s return the day before.

It was good to be out of doors. He enjoyed fresh air and being surrounded by nature, but he’d also needed to get out of the house. Brier Hill had always before been a place of refuge and ease. Though he traveled a lot, he’d never been unhappy in his little corner of Cumberland. Now he spent every moment looking critically at each corner, each piece of furniture, the view from every window, the wall coverings, the decorations. Which bits of it met with Julia’s approval? Which parts contributed to her conviction that happiness was out of reach?

He wasn’t opposed to making some changes if it helped improve the odds for an eventually happy marriage. But what if changingeverythingwasn’t enough? He’d still have a miserable wife, and he’d also no longer have his home. Julia wasn’t the only one whose hoped-for future had been snatched away.

“ButIam the only one who’s trying.”

Pooka brought the stick back, panting and slower than he’d been managing the thing thus far. Lucas took it and petted the dog’s head.

“Are you going to warm to Julia?” he asked Pooka. “You were both a little unsure of each other yesterday.” He looked up at the house. What if she insisted he get rid of his dog? “Maybe I’ll just take you with me next time I go traveling. She’d likely be happier with both of us gone.”

Julia used to like having him around. She’d even been sad when he’d moved away from Lampton Park. They used to be friends. Now he wasn’t entirely sure she didn’t hate him. Actually, honestlyhatehim.

Pooka sat looking up at Lucas with adoring eyes.

Lucas knelt in front of the dog and scratched him behind the ear. “At leastyoulike me. That much is the same.” The tightness in his chest grew as the moments passed. Pooka lay down, resting his head on Lucas’s leg. “I need a place for myself in this house where nothing changes and no one hates me, where I can breathe. Where things are stable and predictable and calm.”

A sanctuary in the midst of the chaos would work wonders. He slowly ran his hand over Pooka’s fur, allowing the warmth of the dog’s loyalty to calm and soothe him.

“Have I worn you to a thread? Let’s get you back to your favorite corner of the estate, and I’ll retreat to mine.” Lucas unfolded his long limbs and stood. His faithful companion kept at his side.

Pooka had a rather impressive little doghouse in his own little pen on the side of the barn, sturdy enough that it stayed warm even in the winter, though the stablehands brought the universally adored dog into their quarters during the truly bitter nights. They hadn’t yet reached that point in the year.

Lucas opened the gate, and Pooka trotted inside, perfectly happy to be back in his domain. He slipped inside his little house, where he no doubt curled into a ball and fell quickly into an exhausted sleep.

Mrs. Parks, Lucas’s ever-loyal housekeeper, crossed his path shortly after he stepped inside the house. “Oh, Lord Jonquil, I’d hoped to see you.”

“I’m beginning to suspect you might be a little fond of me,” he said.

“Not in the least.” She reached into the pocket of her serviceable, always-clean apron and pulled out several letters. “Tom brought these from Irthington.”

“Brilliant.” Lucas took them. The first was addressed in Mother’s steady, elegant hand. “My parents.” He held it up. “They likely sent it within minutes of my leaving. They, too, are a little fond of me.”

“Someone ought to be.” Mrs. Parks grumbled a great deal, but Lucas didn’t for a moment think she was actually displeased with her position or employer. At least someone in this house was happy.

“How are you adjusting to having a mistress of Brier Hill?” Lucas asked as he flipped through his unopened letters one at a time.

“More than a week’s warning would have been appreciated.”

“Ididn’t have more than a week’s warning.”

“Lady Jonquil has kept the footman busy moving furniture around,” Mrs. Parks said.

Lucas had suspected as much. “It’s not so unusual for a lady to make her mark on a house.” Though he was as uncomfortable with the changes as Mrs. Parks seemed to be, he wasn’t willing to side against his wife. Hiswife.Mercy, that had happened too suddenly.

“She will also need to hire a lady’s maid.” Lucas knew her abigail had remained behind in Nottinghamshire. “If you know of anyone who might be a promising candidate, do make her aware.”

“Of course, Lord Jonquil.” She dipped her head and went about her work.

Mrs. Parks wasn’t thrilled with their new situation. Julia was miserable. Lucas was growing increasingly frustrated. There likely weren’t enough sanctuaries in the house for all of them to survive these adjustments.

He pushed out a breath as he made his way up the stairs. A quiet hour or two in his favorite room never failed to restore his spirits, no matter how low or overwhelmed he was. It was there where he had retreated when he’d been lonely and homesick early in his tenure as master of Brier Hill. He’d spent long hours in the peace of that room after word of Stanley’s death had arrived. He’d spent time there on his poor little sister Harriet’s birthday, remembering and missing her. He’d done the same on James’s and Philip’s birthdays, stepping onto the balcony to look out at the hills and mountains, imagining what it would have been like if they’d still been alive and able to join him on his many climbs to those summits.

That balconied sitting room had seen him through countless storms. He needed its particular brand of magic now.

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