Page 25 of Bound By the Duke
Maxwell let out a mocking chuckle before carefully asking, “Moments like what? Finding a bride?”
Percival didn’t dignify that with an answer. Instead, he moved toward the hearth to pour himself a drink.
“You look well.” He said, swirling his whiskey in the glass before taking a sip.
Maxwell didn’t fall for the distraction. “Don’t change the subject. When were you planning to tell me you were getting married?”
Percival sipped his drink. “I wasn’t.”
“You’re getting married.”
“Yes, so I’ve been told.”
“To Lady Aurelia Frid.”
Percival turned his head and arched a brow. “You seem well-informed.”
Maxwell set down his glass and crossed one leg over the other. His expression sobered. “I read about it in the papers, Percival. I thought I was your closest friend.”
“You are.” Percival turned slightly, lifting the glass to his lips again. “Which is why I assumed you wouldn’t require an invitation to a ceremony you would only complain about attending.”
“I would complain,” Maxwell affirmed, gesturing. “Loudly, and with dramatic flair. But I would still show up.”
“It’s an hour in a church,” Percival replied coolly. “Not a campaign to reclaim Normandy.”
Maxwell narrowed his eyes at him. “You really are the coldest man in Britain.”
“So I’ve heard,” Percival muttered without any trace of humor.
Silence fell between them for a moment, the only sound being the pop of the firewood.
Maxwell exhaled deeply. “You know this isn’t just about a wedding.”
“I’m aware.”
“She’s going to be your wife. This is… It’s a significant change, even for you.”
Percival caught the underlying message well enough. They both knew what Maxwell was hinting at: a significant change to the way the estate was run since his previous wife died ten years ago.
He didn’t answer right away. He turned back toward the fire and stared into the flames for a long moment.
“She’s not for me,” he finally said. “She’s for Lottie.”
“Charlotte?”
“She’s been… distant. More than usual. She hardly speaks anymore. Refuses to eat at the table. Walks through the gardens alone. I’ve spoken to doctors, governesses, and even a vicar. They all say the same thing: that the child is lonely.” He paused, his eyes still fixed on the flickering flames. “She needs a mother.”
Maxwell’s lips parted slightly. By now, all traces of mirth were gone. “So you’re marrying someone you barely know because of Charlotte.”
Percival shrugged one shoulder. “I am not the sort of man women fall in love with. I never expected companionship, let alone affection. What I can offer Lady Aurelia is a respectable title, financial security, and freedom from scandal. What she can offer me is companionship for my daughter.”
Maxwell reclined in his seat and folded his arms. “Romantic,” he scoffed.
“Realistic,” Percival countered.
Taking another moment to study his friend carefully, Maxwell asked, “You know that my friend Alexander married Aurelia’s older sister?”
“Yes,” Percival muttered.
