Page 17 of The Sea Siren of Broadwater Bottom
“Those remarks are in jest, darling. There is no need for you to rush into anything.”
“I know that. But, as I said, I have decided it’s time.”
His mother looked perplexed. “But if you don’t have a young lady in mind, then whom would you have me invite?”
“I trust your judgment. If you will invite a handful of suitable girls, I will choose one of them and be done with it.”
His mother sighed as she laid her spoon upon the saucer. “This is an important decision, Edward. Whomever you choose, you will have to live with this woman for the rest of your life. I am happy to invite some potential candidates. But if it turns out that you do not feel an affinity for any of them, I would hate for you to rush to the altar out of some misplaced notion that the time has come.”
“I do wish to marry. I…” Edward trailed off. He could hardly tell his mother that he had been in a state of perpetual sexual frustration ever since he held Elissa St. Cyr in his lap, that he was sick and tired of being a virgin, or that the thought of having a woman in his bed each and every night seemed like some impossible paradise.
Although, judging by her knowing gaze, she was probably surmising as much.
He snatched up his fork and knife and resumed slicing his ham. “I wish to marry, and I would very much like to do so in the coming weeks.”
“Of course, darling. I will invite a few young ladies. But you must guide me a bit. Was there anyone you met in London with whom you felt you might suit?”
“There was not. Just invite whomever you think.”
“Not a young lady from London, then. Perhaps…” Edward didn’t much care for the way his mother was studying him. “Perhaps it is a local girl who has inspired this train of thought?”
“No. There isn’t any local girl.” His voice came out in more of a rush than he liked. He tried to distract himself by spearing a piece of ham, but the fork slipped in his clammy hands, clanging against the plate.
“I know it is an awkward thing to discuss with your mother. But if there is someone you admire—”
“There is not.” When he glanced up, his mother’s face was a portrait of skepticism. “I know what is expected of me, Mother. I have always known. And I will do my duty. What I want is for you to choose the young ladies. If you do the choosing, then I will know that they are acceptable to you and Father—”
“Oh, Edward.” Now the countess’s eyes were sorrowful. “You have always been the most dutiful son. But your happiness is a consideration, too. An important consideration. If there is someone who has caught your eye—”
“There is not.”
“—we would consider her, even if she does not have aLadyin front of her name.”
Edward bit back a bitter laugh. His mother was probably imagining he was pining for one of Baron Staverton’s six daughters, who lived on the far side of town, or one of the Beauclerk girls, who were granddaughters to a duke, even if their father lacked a title. A step down from the heir to an earldom, to be sure, but solid members of the local landed gentry.
If she realized that the woman he couldn’t stop thinking about was the daughter of histutor, there would be no more talk of Edward’s happiness being a consideration.
His mother’s gaze turned shrewd. “Honestly, Edward, I’ve suspected something was going on. The past three days you’ve been nothing like your usual self. I wish you would just tell me—”
“There is no one.” The chair clattered behind him as he surged to his feet. “I beg your pardon, Mother, but I have suddenly recalled some urgent business.” He was out the door in a flash, leaving his uneaten ham behind.
* * *
That afternoon,Edward paid a visit to his neighbor, the Marquess of Redditch. Lord Redditch had been a widower for fifteen years and had never remarried. When his only son, Morsley, had moved to Canada four years ago, Edward had fallen into the habit of spending Tuesday afternoons with the marquess. He had suspected Lord Redditch could use a little company.
Now that Morsley was back from Canada and married to Edward’s sister, Anne, he didn’t worry so much about the marquess being lonely. But Edward kept up his weekly visits. He genuinely liked Lord Redditch, and even though the marquess was more a contemporary of Edward’s father, Edward considered him to be one of his closest friends.
It was also nice to have an excuse to see Anne every week (not that this was a rare occasion—the Redditch estate, Ravenswell, was only two miles from Harrington Hall, so Anne came to visit regularly). Today, Harrington had come along.
They were all drinking coffee in the library when Lord Redditch said, “Fauconbridge, I was wondering if I might ask you a favor.”
“Of course,” Edward said at once.
The marquess strolled over to his desk and pulled out what looked to be an invitation. “There’s to be an assembly two nights hence in Bourton-on-the-Water. I always put in an appearance, as most of those in attendance are my tenants. Unfortunately, some business has come up that I cannot avoid. I have to go to Gloucester to see an applicant for the living.”
The longtime rector of the parish church, John Chenoweth, had died the previous October following a fall from his horse. His daughter, Cecilia, was now living at Harrington Hall, as her mother had died when she was two, and she was now alone in the world. Ceci was close friends with Edward’s sister Caroline, and Edward thought of her as practically his own sister. Although his mother had made it clear to Ceci that she was welcome to stay indefinitely, Edward could tell she worried she was imposing.
Lord Redditch had the parish living within his gift, and he had been searching for a new rector for months. “Have you found someone suitable, then?” Edward asked.
