Page 18 of The Baron's Return
“But you’ll still be in town next week?”
John lifted one shoulder. “We have no plans to quit London just yet.” He examined Cranston closely. “I know you were planning to visit Lady Holbrook yesterday.”
Cranston had almost forgotten he’d told his friend about his intentions for his visit. Their conversation had been three days ago, and it hadn’t taken him long to become well and truly foxed. He’d collapsed into one of Lowenbrock’s spare bedchambers. The following morning, he’d had to make his way home with one of the worst headaches of his life. Every bump of the carriage, despite the fact that the Lowenbrock carriage was well-sprung, had sent jolts of pain straight through his skull.
“I was useless the next day. Barely made it into my darkened bedchamber.”
“You certainly kept me busy trying to keep your drinking from leading you into a stupor from which you’d never recover.”
Cranston winced as he remembered how a mutual acquaintance had done just that. It was just after the final battle at Waterloo. Most of the men who’d survived and who hadn’t been taken to a field hospital had all dropped into a bone-weary slumber.
The next day they’d celebrated. Lieutenant Bradford was one of the men who’d escaped unscathed, only he’d been haunted by all the bloodshed they’d witnessed during that final battle. It was the oddest thing. The young man had been fine up until that point, able to keep his emotions at bay. But once the war was over and Bradford realized he’d be returning home soon… He’d drunk so much that night that after he passed out and was carried to his cot, no one could wake him the next day.
Cranston hadn’t known one could die from imbibing too many spirits. No doubt that was why some internal instinct had led him to his friend’s house after learning about Gemma. He’d known John would watch out for him and ensure he didn’t suffer a similar fate.
“Given how I felt the next day, I appreciate your efforts.”
After a short silence, John let out a huff of breath. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”
Cranston wanted to ask for a drink despite the fact it was so early. But memories of Bradford’s death had him forcing back the impulse. Instead, he called one of the footmen over and ordered a coffee.
His friend waited with barely restrained patience.
“I saw her yesterday.”
John leaned forward. “And?”
“I offered and she accepted.”
Cranston drank from the cup the footman had just placed on the small table to his left and watched the frown form on his friend’s face. He was fairly certain John was torn between congratulating him and telling him he was making a mistake.
But John was an optimist by nature. He’d always assume that things would work out for the best. He might not be happy about the circumstances surrounding Cranston’s upcoming nuptials, but he’d hope for a good outcome.
John nodded. “I hope that one day the two of you will be able to remember how you used to feel. Nothing good can come from dwelling on the unpleasantness of the past.”
Cranston could wholeheartedly agree with that. He’d purchased a commission to escape his heartbreak and now had reentered ordinary life to escape the horrors of all he’d seen and done during his time at war. He needed to leave all that behind him and move on. They’d both seen what happened to those who were unable to do that.
“Tell me,” his friend said, “did you meet your daughter?”
Cranston didn’t even try to hold back his grin. “I did.”
“I take it she’s fine with her mother’s upcoming marriage?”
Cranston shook his head in wonder. “She’s incredible. Whatever else I might think about her, Abigail is a very good mother.” He still couldn’t believe how his visit yesterday had gone. “Gemma guessed that I was her father.”
John’s eyebrows rose at that unexpected detail. “Because of your eyes? Surely that’s a large leap in logic for a child to make.”
“She told us that she’d overheard servants talking about how she wasn’t Holbrook’s daughter. After learning about my plans to marry her mother—and Abigail shared we were once in love—it didn’t take much for her clever mind to put the pieces together.”
John crossed his arms over his chest and smiled. “I never thought to see the day when a member of the fairer sex would so fully ensnare you.”
Cranston barked out a laugh. “She did do that, and I never saw it coming. She wasn’t even trying—she was just being herself.”
“What happens now?”
“For the immediate future, the wedding is planned for next week. I already procured a special license after leaving their town house yesterday. And I have my solicitor drawing up the marriage contract. I hope you and Lady Lowenbrock can be there.”
John inclined his head. “Of course. It’s a pity Ashford won’t be here, but I can understand why you don’t want to wait.”
