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"You are genuinely going to give her a chance?" Flint asked as their carriage turned away from the main road and onto the long driveway to Great Farleigh Hall. He should probably have asked sooner, they had been traveling for two days after all, but he had postponed. Telling himself that it was none of his business. He was marrying a sweet, sensible, and most importantly safe woman and had no business in who Percy married. Unless she was downright unsuitable which Lady Hester in no way could be said to be.
Percy gave a non-committal shrug and looked out the window.
“Having a duke for a father-in-law would certainly help my chances.”
“Which chances? At the gaming table?” Flint demanded with a hard edge. Perhaps it was his brother that was the unsuitable match. If he gambled away Lady Hester’s dowry...
Another shrug.
“Perhaps I should buy an estate with her dowry. I think a life as a gentleman farmer would suit me.”
“You hate the country,” he commented.
“Yes, but I think I would loathe the army and the navy even more. And no one would believe me if I joined the clergy,” Percy drawled.
Flint rolled his eyes, and it was his turn to look out the window. It was still light out, but the oppressing, dark grey clouds made it seem much later than it was. The estate had not come into view yet and Flint was uncertain which window to look out to catch the first glimpse of it.
There was always something special about seeing a manor house for the first time – no matter if it was the actual first time or it was simply the first glimpse you caught this visit. It would make his stomach whirl when he saw the towers and windows, the distinction of the time it was built, perhaps renovated as well. In that moment he could vividly imagine how a person, much like himself, had been sitting bent over his desk, making the very first lines of a drawing for the place. Had dared to dream big to make his vision come true.
“Over here,” Percy muttered, and Flint turned to face the opposite window along with him.
The giant estate emerged after a bent in the road, four stories tall with rows upon rows of large windows facing the driveway and an enormous park behind it. It was built in the Elizabethan style in sandstone and was a truly marvelous example of 16th-century architecture.
“They might as well have written ‘wealth and power’ on the façade,” Percy jested.
Flint only nodded, trying to take in all the details. The mullioned windows, the roofline with the artificial crenellations, and the columns lining the impressive entrance. He hoped the weather would permit him to study the house from every angle. He could never achieve the same look with Barford Abbey as buildings had been added over so many years, but he hoped to at least achieve some measure of it.
“As I said, it would not be bad at all to have a duke as a father-in-law,” Percy continued.
“Well,” Flint muttered but did not know how to continue. No one could argue that any man would instantly gain by being connected to a duke. One of his reasons for attending was that he hoped to speak to the duke. He would be taking his seat in the House of Lords when they were next in session and the duke would be a powerful acquaintance to have. Anyone knew that he worked tirelessly to serve his country and tried to improve it.
“Perhaps you should marry her since you’re already in love with her father’s house.”
It took all of Flint’s willpower not to react. Percy was only jesting. He could not know. Besides, Flint was not in love with Lady Hester. He was merely aware he might be able to fall in love with her if he allowed himself. Which was why he would never allow himself to be better acquainted with her than he already was.
“That is not even amusing, Percy,” he stated coolly when he was finally certain that his voice would not betray him. “You know that I am devoted to Miss Gaywood.”
They stared at each other for a moment and Flint was suddenly reminded of a conversation he had once had with Lady Hester at a ball two or three years ago. She had been standing with Sophia and since Flint had just arrived, he saw no other option than to greet the two of them. Sophia had excused herself almost immediately, leaving Flint stranded with Lady Hester. For a moment both of them had been staring at the people dancing, aware that it would be rude of them to simply walk their separate ways, but also not knowing what to say.
“Is it not annoying to have someone look exactly like you?” Lady Hester had finally asked and turned towards him with an inquisitory gaze in her eyes.
At Eton, he had certainly thought so, since several of their masters did not bother to tell them apart, meaning that they would usually punish both of them if Percy transgressed. Because it was always him and never Flint that did. The reasoning upon agreement with their grandfather had been that it was better both boys were punished than neither of them were.
Flint could not even remember what he had answered at the moment, but as he looked at Percy, not an exact image of himself anymore since he on purpose kept his hair shorter than Percy did, but still very much a mirror image, her words came back to him. If she found Percy handsome, would she find him handsome too?
“If you say so,” Percy finally yielded, looked out the window, and waved their whole staring contest away. “But you know that it is not too late to break it off if you have not promised her anything yet.”
Flint clenched both his teeth and his fists as he counted to ten. Percy was only trying to rile him, and they were moments away from arriving. He needed to be calm. Be amiable towards the duke and duchess, and remain collected while he greeted Lady Hester.
It was no less impressive to alight the carriage in front of the estate and walk up the steps towards it. Inside they were greeted by the duke and duchess in the three-story high hallway with marble floors and a large stairway in mahogany. Flint straightened even further as he took all this in a second before turning to bow deeply to his host, trying not to look around for Lady Hester.
The duke was a tall man in his sixties. With his height and lean figure, he looked younger than he was, despite his hair being more white than blonde. The duchess was short and had once probably been called petite, but the years had rounded and softened her a bit. Lady Hester did not resemble either of them overly much, except perhaps the duke with his height. Her hair and eyes were both different colors from her parents'.
“How is Lady Lambourn?” the duchess asked and smiled broadly. Her eyes strayed towards the large stairway and Flint could not help but follow her gaze up to the second-floor landing although no one was there.
“Well, thank you, Your Grace,” Percy answered amiably and went on to tell the duchess how their grandmother preferred to stay at Barford Abbey for the time being since she was still in mourning and adapting to a life without their grandfather.
Flint felt he should ask the duke a question. This was a unique opportunity for idle conversation that would be a great way to introduce himself to the man, but his mind was too distracted by Lady Hester not being there to form a coherent sentence. The duke seemed content in watching his wife and Percy talk. When the duchess once again looked at the stairway, Flint followed her gaze again. Still no one.
His heart jumped in his chest at the possibility that Sophia had perhaps misunderstood. Or that Lady Hester had changed her mind. If this was indeed a house party for her to find a husband, she would certainly be there to greet her suitors. Maybe he had been worried for nothing, fearing that Percy might catch her attention. More than once he had woken sweaty from strange dreams of encountering her at Barford Abbey after she had married Percy. Some were modest enough that they were simply talking, others were not.
“Ah, there she is!” the duchess exclaimed. Relief was evident in her voice and her face brightened. As Flint followed her gaze for a third time, he saw Lady Hester at the second-floor landing, quickly descending the stairs.
She was wearing a demure, pale green dress with a modest neckline. The green color seemed to emphasize the pink in her cheeks which was certainly a natural blush and not rouge. It made her look younger than her four and twenty years.
The dress however also emphasized her very round and enticing bottom. Her figure was completely unfashionable, but Flint found that the way she was walking down the stairs made him more acutely aware of it. Had she planned this all along to gain more attention from her suitors? Although that seemed out of character for her.
Flint kept completely still, even though his skin prickled at being in her presence, and he made a valiant effort of not to ogle her. He had tried to tell himself that it was merely physical attraction; that he liked women with wide hips and generous bottoms – and he did – but had also needed to be honest with himself and acknowledge that it was more. If it had merely been a physical attraction, it would not pose as great a threat being in the same room as her and he instantly recognized that it was.
As she reached the floor she looked up and her strange violet gaze darted from person to person without settling on anyone. As she reached them, he could hear that she was a bit out of breath, the sound making Flint think of expanses of white linen sheets, being unchaperoned and endless amounts of time. He looked at Percy to see if Lady Hester gave him the same reaction, but his brother just smiled charmingly as he always did when he greeted her.
“I was just helping settle Arthur in the nursery,” she explained and curtsied quickly to Flint first and then Percy.
“Ah, Sophia and Addinggrove have already arrived, I gather?” Percy asked jovially.
“Yes, about an hour ago, maybe more. I couldn’t say. I was helping Arthur build the highest tower possible from the wooden bricks and lost track of time,” Lady Hester explained with a happy smile, her full attention on Percy. Flint desperately wanted her to show him the same attention and was acutely aware of how dangerous it would be.
He was annoyed that his brother offered Lady Hester his arm when the duchess asked them to step into the salon to greet Addinggrove before retiring to their rooms. Flint was so preoccupied with studying the places that Lady Hester and Percy touched, that he did not realize until after greeting Addinggrove that Sophia was not there. Addinggrove however was the one to voice it.
“I’m afraid she fell asleep,” Lady Hester stated, a note of reluctance in her voice. “On Gregory’s old bed,” she told her mother as if that was of import.
Flint felt a knot form in his stomach at her words and immediately looked at Addinggrove to see whether the news affected him. He had a slight frown between his eyes, but nothing more.
“I said we should have broken the trip, but she wanted to push through,” Addinggrove stated, and Flint felt annoyed that he had not protested more fiercely. He knew Sophia to be headstrong, but he had always thought that Addinggrove was man enough to handle her. Especially when it came to her being pregnant. There were still five months left of Sophia’s pregnancy, plenty of time for matters to take a turn for the worse.
“You know she does not care that others fuss over her,” Lady Hester told his brother-in-law. “I’m certain she will be well after a rest.”
It should not have surprised Flint that Lady Hester knew his sister this well. They had been friends for more than six years. But this was probably one of the most level-headed, bird-free sentences he had ever heard her utter. That it regarded the welfare of his younger sister only made an inconvenient warmth spread through his chest. The next two weeks would be a trial indeed.
“It’s normal to be a little more tired when one is expecting,” the duchess reassured Addinggrove who smiled gratefully at her. Flint considered that he should have a chat with his brother-in-law about putting his foot down. It was important that Sophia did not overburden herself now. And frankly, he saw no need in her doing it over finding Lady Hester a husband. If it was up to him, Sophia would stay in London until the child was born, surrounded by the best doctors in the country – and not retire to their country estate as she and Addinggrove planned after the house party.
The sound of carriage wheels in the driveway had all of them turn towards the salon windows. The Drummonds arrived and then immediately after them the Gaywoods. The salon exploded in a cacophony of voices and laughter. Flint watched Lady Hester for a moment as she pink-cheeked and flustered greeted Francis Drummond and Algernon Gaywood. Perhaps she really would marry one of them.
“To hell with it all,” he muttered as he for the tenth time since arriving reminded himself that it was none of his concern. What was though was Cecilia Gaywood. The woman he was almost betrothed to. He just had to officially ask for her hand in marriage and then they would finalize the papers. He would do it any day now. He was out of mourning over his grandfather now and it would not be inappropriate for him to become engaged. In fact, it would be expected as he had become earl.
He sought for a moment among the large group and found her in conversation with the duchess and Mrs. Gaywood. She was wearing a lavender wool traveling gown that emphasized her slender figure. No wide hips or round bottom, but one could not have it all. Cecilia was sensible and just like him, she was not looking for a love match, but one based on reason and common values.
He strode towards them, engaging in conversation with the duchess and Mrs. Gaywood before asking to steal Cecilia away for a moment. He found a quiet corner by the window where they were in full view of the room but would not be overheard by others. He pressed her small cold hand in his and gave her a reassuring smile.
“I am happy to see you again,” Flint murmured.
Cecilia looked up at him through her lashes, her honey-blonde curls framing her face beautifully and her cheeks red from the cold outside. She was probably one of the most beautiful women that he had ever met.
“I am happy to see you too.” She smiled sweetly.
Flint tried to return her smile but felt that his face was more grimace than mirth as he contemplated why the notion of seeing that smile for the rest of his life did not fill him with joy and contentment.