The grin widened and he beamed, looking around the room before settling his eyes on Rowena.
“My Dear, it appears your future husband is more generous than we knew. He has offered, of his own volition, to put up the money to repair the winery. Isn’t that splendid?”
Christopher’s entire body froze as he locked eyes with Rowena.
“The Duke of Thornmouth is offering the money?” she said in a quiet, defeated voice.
“Isaac. He requested we call him by his Christian name. And yes. He has already set the transfer of the funds in motion. In fact, he and I have been discussing the matter via messenger for the past two weeks, ever since he departed for Cambridgeshire. That, and the other pressing matter, of course.”
“The other matter?” Rowena sounded meek, as though she might pass out.
“The betrothal. I am pleased to say that His Grace has made an offer, and I have accepted. You are to wed, my dear. It is official at last.”
Before he knew what he was doing, Christopher jumped up as the chair fell onto the ground behind him with an almighty bang.
The eyes of the entire table swerved to him as he stood, hands balled in.
Chapter 22
Rowena’s heart raced as she watched Christopher stand at the table. He looked as though he were about to protest her father’s statement. A part of her wished he could. She envisioned him standing there and telling her father that he loved her. That he wanted to marry her and that the Duke of Thornmouth was wrong for her.
Yet, another part of her knew this wasn’t the way to have that conversation with her father. Not in front of all these people. She wanted to jump up, to do something, but was frozen in her chair.
“My Lord,” Christopher said, a tremble in his voice. She looked at him and shook her head, terrified of what he might say next. To her great relief, Henry Newmont jumped up and quickly stepped next to his brother.
“Topher, has the sun got to you again?” He placed a hand on his brother’s forehead, but she saw that he was also squeezing his arm. Hard. Certainly, to keep him from speaking. “You are hot as a hearth.”
“His Grace has been out in the sun a lot,” Catherine nodded eagerly beside her.
“And it has been ever so hot,” Rowena agreed. “Perhaps it might be a good idea for His Grace to lay down and rest.”
Suddenly, Christopher exhaled and relaxed his body, uncurling his fists. He seemed to fall into himself, as if he’d just realized the gravity of his action.
“You are right, Henry. I had a sudden onset of feeling terribly unwell. It must be the sun.”
“By Jove, Your Grace. Rowena is right, you best retire for the night and take your rest. We can’t have you getting seriously ill,” Rowena’s mother said, with concern in her voice.
Henry Newmont shook his head. “This is just like in India, Lady Hazelshire. Christopher was so concerned with exploring the area he ignored the sun and before you knew it, he took ill. Hallucinated as well. It was dreadful.”
Despite the seriousness, Rowena had to smile at the young Mister Newmont’s inventiveness.
He can surely be counted on in a crisis. Just like Catherine.
She glanced at her little sister, who’d so eagerly assisted her and Christopher in their clandestine courtship. She watched as Henry led Christopher away.
For a few moment’s nobody spoke, then Margaret cleared her throat.
“The poor Duke. I know just how he feels. I find this heat ever so vexing. And he is riding around in it all day long, making connections. Just this morning he rode all the way to the village to see Lord Waxworth.”
Lady Hazelshire raised an eyebrow. “He rode into the village? In the heat? It is no wonder he is so perplexed this evening. Poor man. He was acting rather peculiar, but now I understand. I shall have the cook bring him a meal later.” Her eyes settled on Catherine. “Perhaps you and Margaret could pay the Duke a visit later, check on his well-being.”
While Margaret nodded eagerly, Catherine sighed, and Rowena swiftly kicked her under the table, prompting her sister to eagerly nod.
“Of course, Mother.”
“But now,” Lady Hazelshire broke into a grin. “Now, we must hear all the news from Papa.”
She glanced up at her husband as she resumed her dinner.
Lord Hazelshire had been sitting quietly at the table, observing the events as they unfolded. He was a patient man, but Rowena could see that he was eager to tell them the details of his conversations with the Duke of Thornmouth. Well, not everyone was eager.
I feel as though I might faint. I cannot believe this. And to buy into the business. What gall.
Her father, meanwhile, placed his fork down and rubbed his hands together.
“His Grace has been ever so occupied with the trials, but they are expected to wind down shortly. He will then make his way to London within the fortnight, and we will put up the banns at St. George’s and His Grace’s parish.”
“His Grace does not wish to buy a license? It is so much simpler,” Charles said. Rowena had a mind to throw a bowl of soup at him. Buying a license meant a wedding could take place much sooner, whereas reading the banns would take at least three weeks. The marriage banns had to be read for three consecutive Sundays, in each of their parishes, which would give her several weeks to find a way to undo the whole thing before the wedding.
Unless Charles gave her father ideas. She swallowed and peered at the two men. To her great relief, it was her mother who, unknowingly, provided support.
“I would much rather we stick with tradition. You already forewent the reading of the banns, Charles. We must not go down that route twice. I’ve had rather a few comments about the matter.”
Then she turned to Rowena. “However, I hope to see you wed soon thereafter. Thus, once we return to London, we must begin making purchases for your trousseau. There is so much to get,” she licked her lips and Rowena could see that in her mind, her mother was making lists of all the items that would have to be purchased.
She found herself growing more and more anxious. She had to speak to Christopher. There had to be a solution. Suddenly, she felt Catherine’s hand on her wrist and she realized she had been wringing her handkerchief under the table for some time without realizing. Her sister eyed the handkerchief and shook her head, prompting Rowena to return her hands to the table. She noticed that the palms of her hands were an angry red.
“Rowena, we must write to Betsy and let her know the good news,” Catherine said in a chipper tone. This delighted their mother whose eyes sparkled.
“Yes, yes, you must. I shall as well. I have already written to her to let her know how anxious I have been for this offer to be made. She will be ever so delighted that it has happened.” She pursed her lips as a thought came to her. “I wonder if I can speak to Lady Portsmouth, so Betsy may be allowed some days leave for the wedding. She certainly needs to be a part of it. She is family, after all.”
Rowena’s heart softened toward her mother, as she appeared genuinely eager to have Betsy there.
I wonder if I should have told her of the terrible news I learned about Lord Portsmouth. However, it would have put her in a terrible position.
She would have had to choose between her loyalty to her ward and to the ton. An impossible prospect for someone like Lady Hazelshire who was so concerned with her family’s social standing.
A thought came to her. “Perhaps I could be excused to write to her at once?” She eyed her father, who nodded.
“Of course. If you complete the letter tonight, I can have it sent with the messenger to the Du…I mean Isaac’s home. It is rather convenient to have Betsy and the Portsmouth’s staying at Crawford Castle.”
“Indeed,” Rowena said as she rose, placing the handkerchief on the plate. Then, she turned and rushed out of the room, heading toward the staircase where she pretended to walk up the steps.
In reality, she waited a few moments and then removed her shoes. Quietly and on her tip t
oes, she made her way outside into the darkening night.
Rowena stood under Christopher’s window which was lit with the dim light of beeswax candles. She shook the handful of pebbles she’d collected and tossed several up into the direction of his window.
They produced a banging sound much louder than she had anticipated and she quickly dove behind a stone wall, fearful of being detected.
To her relief, a moment later someone stepped up to the window and opened it, peering outside.
It was Henry Newmont. Rowena stepped out from behind the wall and looked up at him, waving so he would see her.
He leaned out the window and she stepped closer, calling as quietly as she could “The well house.” He nodded and disappeared inside.
Her message relayed; Rowena rushed up the hill toward the well house. The iron gate was closed, and she wedged it open with some difficulty. Once inside, there was nothing to do but wait.
What are we to do? Once the banns are read it is official.
She glanced out over the vast landscape before her. These past few days had been like magic. Like a dream. A dream that had so cruelly come to an end. She felt foolish to have considered that this might become her reality. That by some other worldly intervention the Duke of Thornmouth would simply disappear and she’d be allowed to be with Christopher. The thought alone of being married to a man she did not love made her miserable.
“Rowena?” Christopher’s voice sounded out in a whisper. She turned and the moment she laid eyes on him she broke into a run.
“Christopher!” she called out his name, louder than intended. Moments later, she fell into his arms. He wrapped his arms around her, and she realized that this was the closest they had ever been. Even during their clandestine meetings these last few evenings, they had always maintained a physical distance. Nothing beyond the innocent holding of hands, or the quick caressing of one’s cheek or arms had happened between them.
Now, being in his arms, Rowena was more convinced than ever that this was where she belonged.
“I am ever so sorry that I lost my composure,” he said as he let go of her. “The shock of his announcement took me so by surprise.”
She nodded, tucking an errant hair behind her ear.
“I was fearful you would make an announcement of your own right there.”
He grimaced. “I very nearly did. If not for Henry I would have ruined it all for us. But Rowena, this cannot happen. The betrothal cannot be made official or it will all be over.”
She nodded, allowing him to take her hand as they walked to the small iron bench at the far end of the well house.
“I know. We have little time. Father intends for the banns to be read as soon as we return to London. What will we do?”
There was silence for a moment as he squeezed her hand harder.
“I will have to speak to your Father. I was planning to do so tomorrow, but that was before Thornmouth inserted himself into the business. Now everything is even more complicated.”
“I will come with you, to speak to him. Perhaps the two of us together–”
Christopher shook his head. “No. I must speak to him alone. I cannot let the woman I intend to wed do my work for me. I will see him in the morning.”
She swallowed. “What if he is against it? What if he will not relent?”
He looked out over the vast expanse below. His angular face was illuminated by the faint moonlight, making him look all the more handsome. When he turned back to her, there was a determination in his eyes she’d not seen before.
“If he says no, there is always Gretna Green.”
Her breath caught in her throat. “Gretna Green? Christopher, I–”
He shook his head. “There is no other option. It is that or we must part. And I cannot imagine life without you.”
She placed a hand on his cheek. “Neither can I, Christopher.” Gretna Green. Rowena knew several girls who had gone against their families wishes and wed the men they loved at Gretna Green.
Two of her friends had run away to Gretna Green to wed, and the results could not have been more different. Her friend Hester, the daughter of an Earl who owned the house next door to theirs on Charles Street, had run away to Gretna Green two years prior. She’d wed her sweetheart, a lowly baronet, much to the shock of her prim and proper family. After the marriage, her father had begrudgingly accepted the young man into the family. Now they were about to have their second child.
Her friend Charlotte however, had not been as lucky. After running away with a merchant she’d know for less than two months, her family had all but cast her out. Rowena hadn’t seen nor heard from Charlotte in years. The last she’d heard she was living in poverty after her merchant paramour had left her with a small child.
I know Christopher would never do that to me, leave me by myself in a terrible pickle. But would Papa and Mama ever forgive me?
Sensing her reluctance, Christopher cupped her face. “It will not come to that, I am certain. I will speak to your Father tomorrow. All will be well.”
She blinked, not believing that he was as certain as he tried to sound.
“Faith, Christopher, am I making a cake out of myself? Hoping that I can have what I truly want, even when the odds are so against us?”
He lifted her chin so they were eye to eye.
“If you are making a cake of yourself then so I am, for I want this as much as you. And I will make sure that we can be together, Rowena. I cannot be without you. You have changed me. You have made me better. You have inspired me.”
She sighed as she looked up at him, tears springing into her eyes.
“As you have inspired me. I never questioned my destiny before meeting you. I never ventured to think that I might be more, have more. You have turned my entire life upside down, Christopher Newmont. And I …I love you for it.”
For a moment, she was horrified at her own, rash words. To declare one’s love to a man was entirely unheard of and she had just done so. Would he think less of her?
She needn’t have worried at all, for just a moment later, she felt his warm lips on hers. She closed her eyes, and as she sank deep into his arms, he withdrew his lips just long enough to whisper, “And I love you, Rowena Burton,” before kissing her once more.
Chapter 23
Christopher stood at the fireplace where a small fire was now going. He glanced at the letter in his hand once more and then balled it up in frustration. Tossing it into the fire, he watched as the paper was eaten by the flames.
“Bad news?”
Christopher spun around, surprised to hear his uncle’s voice from behind him. He’d been so lost in thought that he hadn’t even heard him enter.
“Uncle Nestor, I did not know you were home.”
His uncle nodded. “I returned moment ago from the House of Lords. I was saddened to see you not in attendance, once again.”
A feeling of guilt washed over Christopher, for the accusation and the disappointment was evident in his uncle’s voice.
“I meant to go, but I was distracted.”
His uncle took a seat in the armchair and nodded at the fire. “Chilly, are you?”
He shook his head and sat opposite his uncle. “Not particularly. I felt the need to burn a letter.”
“I see.” Nestor crossed his legs and propped his elbow up on the arm of the chair, letting his hand support his head. “You have been in a sullen mood ever since you returned from the vineyard.”
It has been almost two weeks since they had returned. Two weeks that felt like two years, or perhaps two decades.
“I know, Uncle Nestor. I am sorry. It has been vexing.”
“I wish you would confide in me, so I could help. I take it this has to do with the Earl of Hazelshire’s daughter? I heard an official offer has been made by the Duke of Thornmouth. Banns are to be read this Sunday at St. George’s of Hanover.”
Christopher swallowed, the disappointment of the past week threatening to overwhelm him. He lea
ned back in the arm of the chair, shrugging. This news of the imminent reading of the banns did surprisingly little to change his already sullen mood. He had expected as much.
“Topher?” The use of his childhood nickname drew Christopher out of his thoughts. He glanced at his uncle whose old face was marked with worry. At last, Christopher sighed.
“I did what you advised and made myself indispensable to the Earl. Without Henry and me, he would never be able to make the vineyard profitable. I endeared myself to him, as did Henry. He appeared fond of me. Alas–”
A Forbidden Waltz With the Dashing Duke Page 18