Robert had to laugh at the thought of his ferocious betrothed – she was his betrothed! – willing to take on one of the most fearsome peers of the land. “I will send my parents a letter on the day the notice appears in the broad sheets. I suspect they’ll be shocked I found anyone to marry me, though I will not allow my father to subject you to his venom. As far as I am concerned, we never have to see them.”
“Good,” she said. “I am certain my family and the Kellingtons will give us all the love we need.”
“I suspect, dear heart,” he said as he kissed her again, “you are correct.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Violet hugged her best friend again. “I knew you two were perfect for each other,” she said, before pulling back and hugging Robert.
Letty couldn’t wait to give her friend the news, so after dressing, she and Robert had ridden over to Violet’s home.
“Mama and Papa will be thrilled,” said Violet. “I can hardly wait to start planning the wedding.”
“I need to ask Lord Ridgeway’s permission first,” said Robert, who looked pleased with the betrothal, to Letty’s relief.
“There will be no problem there, of course,” said Violet. “After all, he was the one who set this in motion when he invited you and Mark to accompany Wes to the Ridgeway estate.”
Letty could not help but notice that Violet turned away after mentioning Wes’s name. Letty hoped her brother would come home soon and make Violet his wife.
* * *
It was not altogether unexpected when Letty arrived at Ridgeway Manor a week later in Lord Lorton’s carriage. An unmarried female travelling unaccompanied by a maid would have been most scandalous under normal circumstances. But these were not normal circumstances.
The Earl and Countess of Layton just happened to be at Ridgeway Manor, along with the Duke and Duchess of Bancroft, and Mr. and Mrs. Lewis. Both of Letty’s sisters grinned broadly as the carriage pulled up, along with her sisters-in-laws, Ava, Irene and Kate. Her overprotective brothers looked slightly – but only slightly – less thrilled.
Robert was more than a bit nervous as he stepped out of the carriage. They were immediately surrounded by Letty’s nieces and nephews, who acted as if they had not seen Letty in years rather than a few months. She had missed her family terribly, so she was delighted to hear what had been happening with everyone, even if a dozen children were speaking at once.
“Lord Ridgeway,” said Robert. “Sir, I request an audience, if you would allow it.”
Letty looked up to see Colin sigh with resignation. “I thought you might. Do you have any objections to being joined by James, Nick, Alex and Nate?”
That did little to ease Robert’s nerves, but he acceded with grace, given he had no choice in the matter.
Ava stepped in. “Children, I suspect Letty would like a few moments to rest from her journey. I am certain she will be only too happy to hear how much you missed her at a later point.”
With a few groans, the children obediently entered the house. Ava hugged Letty. “I trust you have some excellent news for us,” she said.
Letty’s grin was her answer.
* * *
Robert wouldn’t exactly call the men staring at him menacing. He had known them for a decade and knew them to be fair, supportive and generous. They had welcomed him into their homes and included him in family celebrations. But at this moment, they did not look quite as genial as they usually did. Colin was sitting behind his desk, while the others were seated on the settee and the chairs around them. Robert felt like he was back at school facing an intimidating headmaster.
“Do sit down, Robert,” said Colin, who pushed a glass of whisky across the desk to him. “You are so nervous you are making me nervous.”
“Sir,” began Robert, looking in turn at all the men in the room. “I have a question to ask which might dismay you. I especially regret causing you potential anguish given the many years of happiness I have had through association with this family. But I am in love with Letty and would like to marry her. She says she loves me as well. As you know, I will one day be the Marquess of Selden, which has considerable wealth attached to it. And my farm is doing well. Letty will be both well taken care of and well loved.”
“We are truly only concerned with her being well loved and happy,” said Colin. “As you know, I look at Letty as more a daughter than a sister. This family endured the pain of one sister’s cruel marriage – though, thankfully, Win has been blissfully happy these many years now with Lewis. Thank God we will never have to worry about Letty. You are already a member of our family, but we welcome you now as a brother.”
The men all broke into grins, with Colin smiling broadest of all.
“But are you not concerned about my condition?” asked Robert.
“Not in the least. Gentlemen, let us raise a glass to Robert and Letty. Also, I would not mind getting a discounted price for one of your foals.”
Robert breathed a huge sigh of relief. “I thank all of you for this great honor. I will worship Letty all the days of my life.”
“Good,” said Colin, who looked both pleased and a bit sad that his beloved sister would be leaving. “And the foal?”
“For free, my lord,” he said.
“I want one, too,” said Nate.
“Pay for it yourself, Bancroft,” said Colin. “Lorton isn’t running a charity.”
With more laughter and another round of drinks, the men of the Kellington family welcomed their latest brother into the fold.
And Robert finally had the life he had always wanted.
EPILOGUE
Fidem Farm, 1855, Twenty Years Later
The Marchioness of Selden was wearing trousers, standing in stable muck up to her ankles – though protected in excellent boots – and swearing like a sailor. “All those years ago,” she said to her husband who was dressed identically and also up to his ankles in muck, “you were worried about the wrong things when you asked me to marry you.”
Robert looked at his wife, more in love with her now than all those years ago. Her fiery red hair was a deeper red now, more reminiscent of a ruby or garnet. Her blue eyes were still vivid, but softened by soft lines which indicated a life filled with much laughter. She was his soul’s mate and he could not imagine his life without her. “What should I have worried about instead, love?”
“You did not ask if I would be a proper marchioness. And we can see now the answer is an adamant no. I believe most ladies with that title would insist on living at your primary estate or at the house in Mayfair. Yet, I cannot keep myself away from the farm, away from these mares and particularly away from these foals.” She tenderly touched the foal which had been born only an hour earlier. While Robert’s duties in the House of Lords kept them in London for part of the year and they did visit all of his properties from time to time, they felt most at home on the farm. It was, after all, where all five of their children had been born.
Robert had been scared during each of Letty’s confinements and it had not just been the normal fears of an expectant father. He had been so scared that one of his children would have his weakness in the legs. But, thankfully, all had been born healthy. He still hated to see anyone swim in ponds, but there was only so much a father could control on hot summer days with cool water within reach.
His family was happy, healthy and well loved. Of course, the girls would soon be on the marriage mart and that would frighten any man. But for now, he had his family in his house and would soon have his wife in his arms.
“You have that look in your eyes,” Letty said to him, as she took his hand in hers.
“What look is that, love?”
“The one I have seen on many a night. In fact, I believe it is the look which is mirrored in my own eyes. Mayhap we should go back to the house and have a nice long bath.”
Robert had ensured that their bathing chamber had an extra-large tub in it, big enough for two.
He kissed his wife. “My l
ady, you do come up with the very best suggestions.”
He took her hand, then being careful not to fall, they made their way back to the house. Back to their family. And back to their life of love.
The love story of Mr. Mark Jones and Miss Anna Emerson
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Eton, February 1826
As Mark Jones walked along the green, he reflected on the many changes he had experienced in only his first few weeks at Eton. Unlike most boys who entered at the beginning of Michaelmas term, he hadn’t started until Lent half in January. He was extremely grateful for the scholarship which had taken him from the London orphanage which routinely sold its children into local workhouses, but he had not been ready for what awaited him.
For one thing, he had been entirely unprepared to take lessons in a classroom full of boys who had had access to excellent tutors. While there had been some formal instruction at the orphanage, it had been quite rudimentary. No one learned anything more than the basic reading and sums which would be required of a shop boy or, if one were truly lucky, a clerk. But Mark had been so eager to learn he had read everything he could get his hands on. He was dreadfully behind on some subjects like Latin and Greek, but he was head of the class in mathematics, geography and literature, thanks to his earlier ability to break into the local subscription library and read after hours.
He was only here because the owner of the library, Mr. Minsberg, had found him one night, but instead of having him arrested, had quizzed Mark on a few subjects, found promise in him, then allowed him to use the library without charge during those few hours he wasn’t working. And it was that same man who had applied for scholarships on Mark’s behalf. Unfortunately, the man and his family had moved to America some six months earlier, effectively ending a burgeoning friendship. It was one thing Mark had hoped to find at school, but had not done so. He wanted to make friends. But he had ended up feeling that much more alone, instead.
Most of the boys at Eton were entitled arses. They judged a boy by his accent first and character never. And while Mark could imitate the speech of the boys of the ton, he had an East London accent. But even if he’d had their diction, he would never be part of their circles because birthright was the only thing which mattered to them.
Lost in thought, he didn’t see the fight until he was almost on top of it. He heard it first, from the crowd of boys cheering them on. In London, Mark had seen too many real fights which ended in death and serious injury to have much of a stomach for more blood. He was about to walk around it when he saw Percy Reynolds, the reigning school bully. That was hardly surprising since he loved to get his mates to fight for him. But it was the other boy who drew Mark’s attention. He was Robert Carmichael, known as Lorton, who had a pronounced limp. Usually, Mark didn’t care all that much when toffs fought amongst themselves, but since three boys were attacking one who was already at a disadvantage he decided it was time to step in. He just had to make sure not to hurt the boys too much, because while toffs could hit each other with impunity, Mark realized the very same thing could get him expelled.
So, using Oriental street fighting he’d learned from some sailors, he pulled first one boy off Lorton, then another, dumping them on the ground more gently than they deserved.
Percy was astonished. “Get off your arses and hold him while I beat him!” he yelled at his mates. But just as Percy started after Lorton, a ginger boy punched Percy, who then hit the ground with a satisfying thud.
* * *
A quarter of an hour later, Mark was left alone with Lorton and the ginger boy.
Lorton had risen to his feet and was brushing the mud off himself. “I have a feeling we three will pay for that. Well, maybe not you, Addington, since you’re his mate. But Jones and I will.”
“You know my name?” Mark asked as he handed Lorton the book he had dropped.
“You’re the smartest boy in our class in math and literature. I daresay you’re smarter than most people at school. But any time I have tried to find you after lessons, you’d disappeared and you are, unsurprisingly, much faster than I.” He held out his hand. “Robert Carmichael, though most people call me…”
“Lorton,” said Mark as he shook his hand. “Mark Jones.”
They turned to the ginger, who was studying them both. “I’m Wesley Addington. And I’m not really Percy’s friend.”
“You’re with him and that gang of his often enough,” said Mark.
The ginger did nothing to refute the accusation. He simply nodded.
A bell rang out in the tower.
“I have to go,” said Mark. “I serve in the dining room.” There was no use chatting with either of them. A viscount and an earl’s son did not associate with someone who worked.
“Do you want to study some night?” asked Lorton.
“Aye,” said Jones, so surprised he wasn’t sure what else to say. So he went with the obvious. “I’d like that.”
“I’m on the top floor,” said Lorton.
“I never know how long I have to work,” said Mark, who wondered if the invitation had been in jest. No one else had asked him to do anything, not even the other scholarship students. But he figured he would take a chance on this invitation. “I’ll be there when I’m done for the night.”
Mark walked away slightly more optimistic than before, hoping it would not be yet another disappointment.
* * *
Working in the kitchen during dinner had taken him longer than usual. Mark wasn’t required to work anywhere during the school year, but since his scholarship covered only tuition and lodging, he took the occasional job in order to earn some coins to spend. He only had the one suit and robe, and knew he would eventually have to buy new clothes at the rate he was growing. He had already darned his socks so many times they were now more thread than wool.
His room was dark and small, but he was happy to have it. He knew too many people living rough on the streets of London to not be thankful for his good fortune. At least here he had a roof over his head and food in his stomach. Most importantly, he had the opportunity to put more knowledge in his head. That would mean the most for his future.
He was interrupted in his thoughts by two laundry girls talking as they passed his room.
“Can ye imagine what this toff were about to get his clothes smellin’ like piss?” asked one of the girls. “Can ‘is aim be that far off?”
“’Tweren’t ‘is aim,” said another girl. “I ‘ear ‘is mates was upset ‘cause ‘e went to the defense of that crippled viscount.”
“’e may be crippled, but he be easy on the eyes,” said the first girl.
Mark went into the hall, catching the girls by surprise. They looked at him with suspicion.
“Do those clothes belong to Lord Wesley Addington?” he asked them.
“I don’t see ‘ow it’s any of yer concern. ‘e gave ‘em to us to launder, not ye. Ye’ll not get any of our coins.”
“I do not wish to take away your job. I was just wondering why they are in such condition.”
“Some’un pissed on ‘em, I reckon. You can ask ‘im yerself. Last I see’d ‘e was up with the crippled viscount.”
“It would be more polite to refer to him as Viscount Lorton.”
“Look at ‘im,” said the first girl in a huff. “Tryin’ to learn us our manners when ‘e’s naught but a charity case from the stews of London. Ye’d not catch either of us takin’ charity. We work for coin.”
Mark ignored the insult. He was already reminded enough of his position on a daily basis. “Did you say the two of them were in Lord Lorton’s rooms now?”
“Yer not goin’ to go carryin’ tales about us talkin’ about ‘im are you?” asked the girl whose bluster was now gone.
“Of course not. I was just curious, is all.”
The two girls looked at each other, then hurried off down the hall to begin their laundering.
A quarter of an hour later, Mark was walking down the dimly lit hallway
toward Lorton’s suite, not certain of what he would find. He could hear him and Addington laughing, which wasn’t all that surprising since they belonged to the same class. One which was far above Mark’s reach, not that he cared. He only wanted to find friends at school, not gain admittance to Almack’s. He almost turned back, but he would not turn cowardly now. He knocked at the open door to the suite.
“Jones!” said Lorton, who looked genuinely pleased to see him. “Come in.”
Mark did as he was bid, suddenly unsure what to say to these two boys he had almost nothing in common with. The suite was sparsely furnished, but both boys were wearing expertly tailored clothing and even he could recognize the boots were by Hoby. The money spent on just these two outfits could feed a dozen East End families for a lifetime. Mark had often wondered if any of the toffs knew just how fortunate they were.
“Take one!” Lorton held out a plate of molasses biscuits.
Mark hesitated. It had been a long time since he’d eaten something that decadent, and he should not make the mistake of getting used to it. That would make the subsequent denial all the more painful. “Where did you get them? Certainly not from this kitchen.”
“Lud no. Take one. Fortunately, I’m excused from sports, so once or twice a week I visit the shops in town. There’s a bakery I particularly like and buy from there as frequently as possible. There’s an advantage to being my mate. You’ll always have sweets.” Then he turned red, clearly embarrassed. “Not that you agreed to be my mate or anything.”
Mark took a biscuit. “I would never be your friend to get something from you, if that’s what you’re thinking. I don’t have much, but I have enough. Besides, real friends don’t do that and I would never be that cruel.”
“I don’t need anything from you, either,” Addington said to Lorton. “Well, I confess I do need a place to stay. But I would never pretend to be your friend just to have a place to sleep.”
Never and Always (Emerson Book 6) Page 17