Page 34 of A Foreign Crown
I write to report that your father is in excellent health. We rode out over the entirety of your estate this week, and he seemed only invigorated by the outing at first, and then he retired early for some much-needed sleep.
Aribella was much comforted by this news. Her father’s words of good health had been verified.
As we were unable to continue what I found to be a most pleasant conversation, I also write to inform you that I am ever hopeful for a unifying of minds, that you would be accepting of a courtship in that regard. I am writing with your father’s permission, knowing what such a letter signifies on my part. I wanted you to know that I am encouraged even further that we could make a happy life of it together, that you would most naturally be the most-suited Duchess of Sumter, and that I might find myself halfway smitten already.
She blushed, astounded at his boldness. How could he know such a thing? Be halfway smitten? What did that mean? Was he falling in love with her?
The letter continued in a different vein, giving news of animals from the wild that had come to find her estate home and of one family of tenants who had returned.Oh, bless them.
Then he closed,Affectionately yours, Lord Bartholomew.
She folded the note carefully in her hands and held it against the one from her father. Her mind spun, thoughts racing forward and backward and around in circles. But her determination remained. She would marry this man who was so thoughtful to consider her before any other possible matches. She would be duchess of her family’s estate. She would stay there with her father. As she considered who else she would treasure at her estate, she realized that with the exception of the servants, she had no more ties to the land than the land itself and a strong sense of family loyalty.
Well, no matter. She would work to build more ties, make it the home it had been for generations of Sumter dukes and duchesses before her. Still, despite how determined she was to move forward, a feeling of unease lingered. Why would this not be the best decision possible for her? When would she ever have a Season to meet other men? She might not marry at all, and when the estate passed into the hands of the new duke, what would he do with her? Unmarried, she couldn’t very well live there, unless of course his mother and sister were in residence. And they had made it sound like they would be. To hear them complain of the draft or the walls or the paintings day in and day out would be intolerable. Would she be relegated to a beggar of their kindness in her own home? She had precious few viable choices.
The feeling of being trapped bothered her.
She made her way to the front doors of the house. Fresh air would clear her mind, she hoped, for she needed some sense talked into her head. Or her heart. Prince Layton’s face came to mind. His soft brown eyes, the goodness of his expression, all filled her thoughts, and she immediately felt like he was near. Happy gooseflesh spread up her arms, and she hugged herself while stepping out the door and around to the side of the house.
Prince Layton was Her Majesty’s choice for one of her daughters, or he was someone they were willing to explore the possibilities of an alliance with. Or they might not have decided on a path—neither princess might choose him after all.
He might be free to love whomever he chose.
But what did that matter?
As she thought more about him, his image not leaving her mind, she knew the thought of seeing Prince Layton tomorrow or the next day or later that very day, even while doting on the princesses, excited her far more than the prospect of seeing Lord Bartholomew.
What did that mean? Was she enamored with Prince Layton? Certainly he was handsome. But what did she know about him beyond that?
She laughed, thinking of his efforts with the shuttlecock. His efforts for his country were admirable. He had not lowered himself to Prince George’s behavior, had maintained a strong level of respectability. She admitted to herself that she didn’t know enough about this prince to develop a tendresse for him, but how could she not? He stood tall, his jawline strong, his shoulders broad. His eyes had delightful specks in them, patches of sun in their otherwise chestnut-brown expanse, and his golden-brown hair fell across his forehead in just the right way.
She sighed. Was she ridiculous? Her smile grew. Of course not; a woman would be blind not to notice Prince Layton. One had only to look at the princesses. They were obviously competing for his attention.
And his teeth. She giggled. His lips. He was everything she’d always thought was handsome. Even if they could never be, she would be happy she’d met him. And they weren’t finished yet. They had the rest of her time as a lady-in-waiting.
She frowned. Unless he left sooner—unless the King was right now giving him everything he needed. Then she felt guilty for her concern. Of course she would want that for him. Memories of their first moments in the carriage interrupted her guilt—her face heated. She’d warmed almost instantly with his arm around her. Oh, he was everything a gentleman should be. Then she skipped a few steps. Of course she would be happy she knew him.
“Feeling happy, I see. Might I join in your merriment?” Prince Layton’s smile warmed her further.
“Oh.” She felt her face blush, and it moved down to her toes. She fumbled, mortified about her thoughts of him just moments before. “Hello. Yes, I am feeling happy.”
His gaze traveled to her correspondence. “Letters from home?”
“Oh yes.” She’d forgotten for a moment. And then the realization that she held in her hands what was more or less a marriage proposal sanctioned by her father flustered her further. “I suppose I’ve had good news.” She frowned.
“Oh dear; I’ve lost your smile.”
“No, it’s not that.Yes, this is good news. A way to save the estate.”
“Does it need saving?” He stepped closer, concern filling his face.
She looked up at the house, immediately aware of the windows looking down at them. “Shall we walk?”
“Certainly. Would you do me the honor of a turn about the gardens?”
She indicated the side paths. “This direction?”
His gaze turned perceptive, and then a light sparkled in his eyes. “This way seems secluded, pleasant. We might have a moment to converse without interruption.”
