Page 45 of Finding Hope
“Please let us talk about something more pleasant. I want to hear all about Paris!”
Faith smiled. “Paris was similar to London, but still very different. There were cafés where ladies could go, and the shops were divine. My favourite part—I think—was simply walkingaround the city. There were artists painting on many of the street corners, and you could stroll along the river or take a leisure boat from one end of the city to the other. We dined with Wellington a couple of times. I was surprised at the English presence there again after the war. We will have to take you there soon.”
“How soon?” Hope asked. “Because at this moment, it is very appealing.”
Her sister laughed. “I will speak to Westwood about it.”
Max wanted someone’s blood.As soon as Dr. Cafferty had left, he was on the brink of setting out to join the hunt for the gunman when Westwood arrived. He was just trying to shirk into his coat.
“What has happened?” Westwood stopped at the threshold to the study, a scene of some disorder, having been where Dr. Cafferty had put a plaster on Max’s arm.
“Dom! I am so glad you have come. Is your lady wife with you?” Max walked over and shook his best friend’s hand.
“She is looking for her sisters. We passed Brosner on the way in and he broke the news that the two of you had been shot.”
“Unfortunately, yes.” Max proceeded to fill him in on the narrow escape he and Hope had just had.
“You are sure the shot came from a poacher?”
“I cannot think why anyone would wish to kill me or Miss Whitford! The others went to investigate. Hopefully, they will find the culprit and then we will know for certain. I was just on my way back to the field to see if I could help discover anything.”
“I will go with you.”
They proceeded to the front drive then climbed into the cart that had brought Hope and him back to the house.
“Shall I drive?” Westwood asked.
“I will assume you are teasing. The day I cannot drive the cart with a scratch on my arm is the day you have permission to shoot me yourself. How is married life?” Max changed the subject.
“Better than I could have imagined,” Westwood answered. “However, I do not think I would have been in the right case any sooner or with anyone else.”
“There is a reason for the house party, Dom. I told you my father was ill, but you have not seen him yet. He is dying.”
“What has happened?” he asked.
“A wasting disease, apparently. He is weak and frail, Dom. Although he wanted to hunt, so hunting we have given him,” Max said fondly. “The old boy is enjoying himself greatly.”
“If I was dying, I would make the most of my time left.”
“I wanted to prepare you. I did not have that luxury.” Dominic had come home from school with Max on occasion, and had hunted with the Duke.
“It is hard to imagine him as anything other than a bear,” Westwood reflected.
Max laughed at the apt analogy as he guided the cart along a narrow path to the watering pool.
“Father would like to see me wed, Dom. I have asked a few ladies here to see who would suit.”
Westwood turned and stared at him. “What of Hope?”
Max worked his jaw as he decided how to answer. “The Duchess does not approve. That is the kind of way of expressing it. She as good as announced my betrothal to Miss Cunningham at your wedding breakfast.”
Westwood whistled.
“Then she sent the announcements to the papers. It was no small feat to prevent that from going to print.”
“I can only imagine.” His friend groaned.
“Had the Duke not supported me in allowing me to choose my own bride, I would have been disinherited, according to her Grace.”
