Page 24 of Wedded to the Forbidden Duke
Cecilia parodied his toast back to him, before taking a generous sip of wine herself.
“Yes, very high,” Mr. Ainsworth said, seemingly oblivious to any of the tension bubbling up between his two hosts. “So high, in fact, that he was the scrawniest little child I had ever seen! Your mother used to worry sick about the feeding of you, I remember.” He pursed his lips and nodded, remembering. “But your father was convinced that you would grow in time and that the best thing was to continue on your athletic education, and I suppose he was right.”
“Mr. Ainsworth.” Ian coughed. “I am certain Her Grace is not interested in any more stories of my childhood.”
“Oh, I am certain she must be,” Mr. Ainsworth said. He wagged his pipe at Ian, furrowing his brows together as he pretended to scold the younger man. “I know how you young men can be around your paramours—unable or unwilling to tell any stories that do not paint you in the most strapping of lights. You must allow an old man his fun, after all.”
“I must say, I never have seen anyone have such a familiar relationship with one’s solicitor. It is quite heartwarming,” Cecilia said.
“Yes, yes.” Mr. Ainsworth puffed at his pipe and placed his other hand on the table. “His parents were rather good friends, in addition to being clients; our families have worked together for generations, you see. The loss of them was a great loss to not only their family but to everyone who knew them.” He grabbedhis wine, and raised it in Ian’s direction, as though toasting. “If anything, it was a great comfort to me to get to help raise their son.”
“That isenough,” Ian said sharply, with a hand hitting the table.
At once, the room fell silent.
Everyone at the table froze, Ian included. His nostrils flared as he breathed, trying to calm himself. Mr. Ainsworth took another strong pull from his pipe, seemingly unperturbed, but it was clear from his silence that he was aware he had hit too close to a sore topic.
Cecilia looked back and forth between the two of them.
All of this time, she had never thought of Ian as anything more than a cavalier, libertine sort of character. Someone who took life very lightly, unconcerned with anything other than his own pleasure, and not caring who he bothered in his pursuit of it.
Already the arrival of Mr. Ainsworth had reframed so much of this perception she had formed and created so many questions. But this was something new altogether. This shattered the image of the carefree rake.
She had not realized, before, that he was capable of hurting so deeply.
After a moment, she cleared her throat, in an attempt to relieve some of the tension that still hung thick like a cloud in the room.
“You know,” she said, tone calm and conversational as though nothing had just passed between their gazes. “I do not believe I have thanked you properly for the wine, yet, Mr. Ainsworth. It complements the meal beautifully. However could you have guessed?”
“Ah, a beautiful vintage like this would be difficult to pair ill with anything,” Mr. Ainsworth said, unperturbed by the sudden change in subject. “And there is no need to thank me, really. I could hardly show up without a wedding gift in tow, especially with the degree to which I am imposing on your days of early newlywed bliss! I am quite relieved we were able to settle all of the business you wanted to look over, and so quickly.”
“Looks as though you were right. He had all of his facts straight,” Cecilia said, after a particularly long sip of wine. “This time, at least.”
“Yes.” Ian nodded. “I am fortunate to have such an efficient benefactor.”
“Now.” Mr. Ainsworth put his napkin down on the table and began to rise from his seat. “Look at the time. An old man like me really should be getting to bed. Thank you for your hospitality, Your Graces. Madam, it was an absolute pleasure to meet you. I had hoped His Grace would make a fine match, but I never could have imagined he would meet such a delightful young lady.”
“Thank you, Mr. Ainsworth,” Cecilia said, nodding. “I hope you will be back to visit us soon.”
“Mr. Ainsworth,” Ian said. “Thank you again for coming up to the estate. The staff has prepared your usual chambers for you.”
The older man waved him off. “No, no,” he said genially, shaking his head before continuing, “My carriage is already set to take me back home. I could not impose.”
“It is never an imposition,” Ian replied. “You know that, Mr. Ainsworth. You have been with the estate longer than I have, for heaven’s sake.”
“Ah, my lord.” Mr. Ainsworth shook his head one last time, more firmly than before. “You are too kind,” he said gently. “Next time, perhaps, I shall stay next time.”
“I hope this is not because of my earlier outburst,” Ian finally said. “I ask that you forgive me.”
Mr. Ainsworth shook his head. “Don’t think a moment more about it, Your Grace,” he said gently. “It is just that I refuse to be in the way of a young couple on their honeymoon! Let me return to my own home. I am sure the two of you would like some time alone.”
Cecilia choked on her wine.
Ian said nothing, but his eyes grew wide.
“So you see, it is not inconvenient at all for me to go,” Mr. Ainsworth continued, as though oblivious to the shock he had set off throughout the room. “Your Grace—Your Grace—I bid you both good night. Thank you once more for the hospitality you have shown me. I look forward to seeing the both of you in good health soon.”
Ian tried to say something, but only managed to stutter out a goodbye.
