Page 24 of Pining for Lord Lockhart
“She’s lovely. I don’t know if she wishes my pursuit of her or that of another, but I pray it is me she wants in her life.” As long as he was free to pursue her.
“Very good.” The duchess seemed to be thinking about something but then shrugged it off, and Andrew knew he would never know.
He took his bows and was soon in his own carriage on his way back to his empty house.
Chapter 6
The next morning, he bid his solicitor goodbye just as a servant brought in the mail tray.
Andrew waved him forward. “Thank you, Timothy.”
When he glanced at the letter, he wished to hand it back. All this recent progress with Charity brought his behavior in question now that Mrs. Westchester was writing him. Thoughts of Penny, her written acknowledgement that they had said things to each other as youth, that he’d made promises, made him wish to toss this letter without opening it. But he knew it was time to face this responsibility, to determine just exactly what his relationship with the family should be, and address it head on.
His finger slid under the seal, breaking it in two. “And here we go.”
He unfolded the papers, surprised at the length of the letter. Fanning out the parchment, he was looking at a six-page double sided letter, some from Mrs. Westchester and some from Penny.
He sighed. They had much to discuss and attempt to understand. Her mother began with several pages of memories she had of him as a child. And without meaning to, Andrew slid into a happy train of thought about all the times he’d found happiness in an otherwise bleak upbringing. All moments of happiness had been with the Westchester family.
Andrew remembered a particular morning, his tutor had been frustrated, his mother not available to him. He didn’t know what she was doing, but he remembered being told not to disturb her. And then his father came in, likely at the behest of his tutor.
“Son. I understand you are not learning the material.”
“It is just this one part…”
“All the parts must be learned. Your tutor has suggested a school that might assist.”
“What? I don’t want to go to a school. That’s why we’re doing tutors. I thought we talked about this.”
“Perhaps if you apply yourself, we can avoid sending you away, but it is nothing to dread. I enjoyed my days at Eton and at Oxford after.”
He nodded. And he’d worked as diligently as ever for the rest of the afternoon, only to hear his tutor saying to his father as he made his way to the front door, “He is quite hopeless in his numbers. Beyond my ability to teach, I’m afraid.”
Andrew knew his father might come in after, and so he’d raced through all the rooms at the back of the house and out the back door. He hadn’t stopped running until he’d reached the Westchesters’. A pie sat in the window of their kitchen. The smell alone welcomed him with a feeling of relief. He burst through the front door just as Mrs. Westchester was rounding the stairs and stood there, his lips quivering.
“Oh come, child.”
He hadn’t been a child necessarily. It was high time for him to grow up. But at the time, he’d felt in great need of the exact kind of love that Mrs. Westchester had offered, a warm enveloping hug and non-judgmental air.
Penny had come around the corner just then, and Mrs. Westchester had sat them both down with pie fresh from the kitchen, and taught him numbers herself.
Something about the way Mrs. Westchester explained things made much more sense to Andrew than what his tutor had been trying to say.
But no matter what he’d tried to explain to his father when they met later, Andrew was still sent to Eton the following semester.
And looking back, he knew it was for the best. If he’d known his parents would pass away as early as they had and that he’d be thrown into the role of estate owner, he would have been grateful to go. Though he missed his parents, he missed the Westchesters more.
Penny wrote him now and then. She told him of her own studies, of the trees and how much they’d grown, of her mother. She never mentioned her father. And Andrew was surprised to learn of his passing through mutual acquaintances at school.
When he returned home mid-term, he had started to see Penny in a new way. And she’d responded to his weak attempts at flirting.
Nothing happened between them, not a kiss certainly, but one afternoon, under their willow tree, the branches hiding them inside a lovely shade of green, he’d been carried away by emotion.
“Must you go back to school?” Penny’s pout spoke for the both of them.
“I must. You know I must. But I will write. The terms go quickly, and I’ll return.”
“How do I know you won’t forget me?” She’d stepped closer, looking with wide blue eyes up into his face.
