Page 24 of When her Duke Returns
“What’s this about Summerhead?” she heard from behind her. With a quick glance, she caught sight of Francis and Harry returning from their ride, strolling up from the grounds further out, and looking rather worn and contented.
“Mary is rather upset about the wedding being held in Scotland,” Sophia summed up. “Not that one can blame her.”
Mary scoffed, “I’m not upset though I can’t fathom why not one of you thought to inform me of this! Surely, the bride is to have a say... And I say Summerhead!”
“Darling, that will prove quite impossible.”
“Mother, don’t,” Francis interjected then as he moved toward where the women were sitting to plant a kiss on Sophia’s golden head.
“Don’t what?” Mary repeated as Antony continued to urge her out of her seat. “Will one of youpleasetell me what’s going on?”
Francis stared Mary down, before revealing the truth of the matter. “We’re selling Summerhead. I’ve had Hardy on it since January, and we finally have a buyer. If fortune favors us, a deal will be made before the end of the month.”
Mary’s mouth fell agape, and she grew hot with anger. “This cannot be. You are playing with me, all of you! This is theatre. That estate was my dowry, mydue!”
“It is the truth, Mary,” her mother confirmed gravely.
“And not one of you thought to tell me?” She looked up to Harry then, who had come to settle beside her. “Not evenyou?” she asked him as her voice welled with emotion.
“You’ve been so out of sorts lately… We didn’t want to burden you with matrimonial nonsense,” he replied, his own voice faltering.
Mary rose from her seat, throwing her book to the ground. She tried her best to fight back the onset of tears, but her shock was stronger than her resilience. “You are all impossibly cruel,” was all she could manage before she picked up her skirts and ran off into the gardens.
* * *
“You are welcome to head back without me,” Alexander pressed though he was quite out of breath. He had not ridden properly in years, and his lack of practice was getting the better of him. “You and your father could catch up with the Carlisles if you hurry,” he added from atop his black stallion.
Cecelia Stanton grinned from atop her mare. “I’m perfectly fine here, Your Grace. It’s not often I get to spend time in the country, and it’s even more of a rarity that mother should let me ride… Is that not right, Papa?”
Sir Stanton had come along with the young men and his daughter to supervise though he seemed quite content to roam the fields on his own horse, staying mostly out of earshot. It seemed much was permitted to the young Miss Stanton.
She leaned down to stroke her chestnut filly’s mane as her own ginger curls wrapped around her shoulders. Alexander had spent little time in the girl’s company, save for when he had dined with the Carlisles all those years ago. It struck him as odd that they should be so close with a family of little repute, but he was not very concerned with the business of titles.
“I must say,” she took up again, and she trotted closer toward him. “I was surprised your grandmother invited us down as she did. I didn’t know she liked our lot much.”
“And which lot is that?” Alexander queried with a smile.
Cecelia squinted against the sun as the wind whipped her hair about. “Theself-made,” she replied sarcastically. “My father thought they had gotten the wrong address at first,” she added with a laugh. “Though it’s grand to see Mary again.”
“You are quite close.”
“Oh, absolutely! We’re like sisters in many regards. The only sister I’ve got,” she added. “You are an only child as well, are you not?”
“I am,” he concurred. When she seemed to wait for more, he continued. “My father passed before he and my mother could have another.”
“You grew up without a father? I am so sorry.”
“Not entirely. He died when I was four,” Alexander said though he was taken aback by her candor and her concern. “Besides, my grandmother can be quite mannish when she sets her mind to it.”
Cecelia laughed, and Alexander felt strangely satisfied. He hadn’t been in the company of many women since his return from war. There had been the odd run-in with former female acquaintances, and most had gone terribly awry. While the better part of them had not screamed in his face out of horror,allstared in a way that was not well-hidden, nor well-meaning, and it made him feel quite monstrous.
“To be honest,” she began, “your grandmother scares the living daylights out of me.”
“A normal reaction, don’t you worry. I imagine it bequeaths her a great deal of satisfaction.” Alexander took a moment to take the woman in, then, those pale eyes of hers staring across in earnest. She looked particularly confident on horseback, he thought, as if she belonged there. “You ride quite aptly for a woman.”
“For a woman?” she echoed in mock indignation. “I’ve been riding since I was born or almost. One of the few benefits of having a rather lax governess and growing up outside of London, I suppose… Though I can’t say I’ve ever seen a place like this.”
“Whitcliff, you mean?”
