“Well,” Mother began in a brisk voice. “What do you intend to do now?”
Win raised his glass.
She frowned. “You cannot spend the rest of your life with your head in a bottle, dear.”
“Good Lord, Margaret, leave the boy alone,” his father said sharply. “A man who has been thrown over on the day before his wedding has earned to right to seek solace in oblivion for, oh, a week at least, I would think.”
“I doubt that I will need that much, Father,” Win said with a wry smile. “Apparently I am not as crushed as one would expect. Disappointed, yes—my pride has definitely been wounded—but all in all . . .” He thought for a moment. “I believe I am escaping relatively unscathed.”
His parents traded glances.
“Then you were not in love with her?” Caution sounded in his mother’s voice.
“I liked her a great deal. I believe now I might well have been infatuated with her and we were well suited to one another. I can think of any number of couples who do not have that much. I assumed love would come in time.” Win considered the question for a moment. “I suppose I thought, given as everyone else thought we were the perfect match, that we, well, were.” He chuckled. “And we probably would have been for the rest of our lives had not a better catch come along. I expected to love her, sooner rather than later really, but, no, I was not in love with her.”
“That’s something at any rate.” Mother blew a relieved breath. “I do hope you do not allow this to discourage you, dear. There are any number of charming young ladies who would be most interested should you do little more than glance in their direction. Why, I can name a dozen off the top of my head. After a suitable interval—”
He laughed. “And what is suitable in circumstances such as this?”
“I’d say about the time her engagement to another man is announced to be more than long enough,” Father muttered.
Mother cast him an annoyed glance. “Long enough that it does not appear you threw her over for someone else.” Her lips pressed together in a prim line. “I don’t know why you wish for everyone to think calling off the wedding was by mutual accord. I think she should be known for the . . . the . . . the opportunist she is.”
“First of all, I would much prefer not to be the object of pity,” Win said firmly. “And there is much less chance of that if this is seen as being amicable.”
“Still, people will talk. There’s bound to be a certain amount of gossip.” She drummed her fingers on the arm of the chair. “Why, no doubt, conclusions will be drawn as to your behavior. They’ll assume you did something dreadful. You do have a reputation for fast living, you know.”
“Excellent.” Father nodded. “I would much rather it be thought that my son did something unforgivable in the eyes of his fiancée rather than that he was nearly taken in by a girl who was little more than a fortune hunter.” He aimed a pointed look at his son. “Most women, interesting women that is, especially those suitable for a man of your prospects, are most intrigued by a man whose reputation is not entirely spotless. A bit wicked, as it were.”
Mother gasped. “Roland!”
“Come now, Margaret, you must admit you were initially attracted to me because I was considered entirely too dangerous for a young lady of good breeding.”
“I was not!” Indignation sounded in her voice. “Why, I never—”
“Oh, but you did, Margaret,” Father said with a smug smile. “You most certainly did.”
Win looked from one parent to the next. That was a story he had never been told. And one he wasn’t sure he ever wished to hear. There were some things about the past lives of one’s parents one should probably never know.
He cleared his throat and continued. “Secondly, Mother, consider this for a moment. If you had a daughter, would you not want her to make the best marriage possible?”
Mother sniffed. “Not at the expense of other people’s happiness.”
“Do you really think I would have been happy with someone who cared so little for me that they would cast me aside for someone with a larger fortune and grander title?” Win shook his head. “In truth, I think I have had a narrow escape and I feel quite lucky at the moment.” He grinned. “Indeed, this is entirely too good to waste. I believe I shall head to London tomorrow and try my hand at the gaming tables.”
“Well, next time, you shall have to choose someone—”
“Next time,” Win said in a no-nonsense tone. This was not up for discussion and the sooner his mother realized it the better. “Next time is very far away and not something I wish to consider at the moment.”
“Permit him to recover from this time first.” His father’s gaze met his. “Even though he is taking this debacle in stride, such things are never as easy as they look.”
“Thank you, Father.” Win smiled.
“I suppose,” Mother murmured.
“Oh and, Father, you had mentioned something about it being past time I learned management of the estate and the family’s business interests.”
“Yes?”
“Well, I agree. I know you had originally planned to divide those responsibilities between Gray and myself but, as we have no idea when he’ll return from his pursuit of success in America . . .” Win shrugged. “I am prepared to take it all on. Indeed, I look forward to it.”
“Then we shall begin at once. Well . . .” A slow, decidedly knowing smile spread across his father’s face. “When you return from London, that is.”
“No more than a week or so, I would think.”
“Take as long as you wish, Winfield.” Father nodded in a sage manner. “And do enjoy yourself.”
Again, Win was struck by all the things he didn’t know about his parents in their younger days. Still, from the few stories he had heard through the years, he had always suspected his father had indeed been something of a rake in his day. And the current Earl of Fairborough probably knew far better than his wife what it would take for his son to recover from his cancelled wedding.
His father would probably understand as well that there was an odd ache somewhere in the vicinity of Win’s heart. Not that Win would ever admit such a thing. No, this dull pain was a secret he doubted he would ever reveal to anyone. Besides, what could he say?
Did he ache for what he had lost?
Or for the shattered promise of what now would never be?
June 1879
My dear Gray,
While it is unfortunate your business concerns did not allow you to travel to England it was perhaps for the best. Although I could certainly use your assistance at the moment in my stalwart attempts to drink most of the spirits in the country and bed as many of its women as possible.
I regret to inform you that the wedding of Miss Felicia Abigail Whitingdon and the Viscount Stillwell did not take place as planned as the bride decided she would much prefer to be a duchess rather than a mere countess. Yes, indeed, Gray, I have been thrown over for a man who will one day have a more prestigious title and a greater fortune.
Oddly enough, I am not sure if my heart is as wounded as my pride. Upon reflection, I realize the exquisite Felicia was not as perfect a match as I had initially believed although, had the wedding not been cancelled, it might well have been many years before I realized that fact. Perhaps even a lifetime. As the thought of living the rest of my days with the wrong woman is as a cold hand squeezing my heart, this development is for the best. At least I have convinced myself of that.
This incident, as Mother refers to it, has led me to consider my life in a new light. While I daresay I shall not entirely abandon my wicked, but most enjoyable, ways, I am resolved to turn my attentions to matters of business, property management and all else I will need in the future to ensure the prosperity of the family. Father is most pleased. I daresay I shall become quite respectable and eminently proper and even a bit stuffy. God have mercy on us all.
There is a lesson to be learned here even if admittedly, I have no idea what it i
s. I know the next time I choose a wife, I shall want someone who has more depth of character. Although it has always seemed to me those women who truly have good character are not always as easy to gaze upon. Felicia was very easy to gaze upon.
Mother says she never liked her. . . .
Part Two
Lucille
My Dearest Cousin Beatrice,
Lord Stillwell and I have fixed on the fourteenth of September for our marriage. It will be celebrated at his family home of Tairborough Hall and will indeed be the happiest day of our respective lives.
I cannot tell you how pleased I am to have found a man of the steadfast nature and stalwart character of Winfield Elliott I consider myself extremely fortunate and his feelings echo mine. We are agreed that we are well suited.
Our happiness will only be increased if you will favor us with your presence at the ceremony. It shall be small and dignified, as is appropriate for his station and mine. Da say you will come, Cousin, as your absence would surely cast a pall on what will certainly be the most important day of my life.
Your loving Cousin,
Lucille
Chapter 3
August 1881
My dear Cousin,
We are all delighted to hear of your successes in America. Regardless, Mother would have my head were I not to point out that in spite of the busy nature of your days she would appreciate if she would receive letters from you more frequently than you have managed thus far. Now that I have fulfilled my duties as loyal son and have delivered her message, I may move on to other matters with a clear conscience.
As you know, I have now fully taken over the management of Father’s financial investments and much of the management of the family’s properties as well. I will confess, it has not been entirely easy and has required far more effort to prove myself worthy of his confidence and trust than I had imagined. Nonetheless, I have managed to do so and humbly note I am well pleased with myself, as is Father. Furthermore, I will be forwarding you a substantial sum to invest in your next venture. No thanks are necessary. I simply wish to share in your financial acumen. But that is not the only purpose for my letter.
Once again, I beg you to arrange your affairs to the point where you can return to England for a visit. And a wedding. Yes, it’s true. I am engaged to be married.
I can see the grin on your face now, Gray, and I am always glad when the important events in my life provide you with a source of amusement.
I have no doubt I have now found the perfect woman. Lady Eustice, Lucille, is the widow of Sir Charles Eustice and is a lovely creature with a mind nearly as sharp as my own. There is nothing more enjoyable than engaging in stimulating debate of an intellectual nature with my Lucy. I suspect the passion she shows in our verbal dueling will be matched by passion of a more intimate nature, although I will confide to you that nothing untoward has occurred between us. Much to my regret. But Lucy is quite cognizant of proper behavior. I know you are thinking one of us should be.
We met quite by accident at the office of her late husband’s solicitor, who is my solicitor as well. Then met again at the opera. And once more at a dinner at the home of mutual friends. By then, we both agreed fate had obviously taken a hand and we would be foolish not to acknowledge it. After all, one should never defy fate. We have seen a great deal of each other in recent months and she has agreed to become my wife.
We have decided on a small, discreet affair here at Fairborough Hall with only our family and closest friends in attendance. But I cannot face another wedding without you by my side so do consider returning home no later than September tenth, as I should like to spend the last days of my bachelor life with my cousin and my closest friend.
Nor can I wait for you to meet Lucy. You will like her, Gray. She is as lovely as she is sensible. I assure you, intelligence and beauty is not an easy combination to find. She will one day make an excellent countess.
Mother likes her a great deal....
“You’ve come a long way, my boy.” Father closed the ledger book with a heavy thunk as befitted its serious nature. He had two such ledgers. In this one he kept an accounting of business endeavors and investments; the other was dedicated to matters regarding property including Fairborough Park and the house in London. Father was nothing if not well organized. He set the book aside on the desk. “I must confess, I wasn’t sure you would take to this as well as you have.”
“Were you afraid Gray had inherited all the business expertise in the family?” Win said with a wry smile. He sat in the chair positioned in front of the mahogany desk that had served any number of previous Earls of Fairborough and would, God willing, serve those yet to come. Win had sat in this precise position more times than he could count through the years, more often than not when he was being called to task for some infraction or other. Odd to be sitting here now not as recalcitrant offspring but as something more akin to an equal.
“Not at all.” Father shook his head. “I’ve never had any doubts as to your competence or intelligence. It was your desire that was in question. Grayson had something to prove, if only to himself. You do not.”
“True enough.” Win’s cousin, Gray, had lost his parents at an early age. Win’s family had taken him in and, to Win’s observation, had never treated him, or thought of him, as anything less than their own. But when the woman Gray loved threw him over for a man with a title and fortune, his cousin left England to build a fortune of his own. “You do realize he isn’t aware that I told you about that business with Miss Channing, or rather, Lady Lydingham now?”
Father nodded. “Nor shall I tell him that your mother and I know.” He paused. “Do you think he will return for this wedding of yours?”
“I doubt it.” Win shrugged. “I have asked him, but I am not counting on his presence. I suspect we will not see him until he has accomplished what he has set out to do.”
“Pity.” Father shook his head. “Your mother misses him.”
“As do we all.” Gray was more than a cousin to him. In every respect save blood, they were brothers and Gray was, as well, his closest friend. Regardless, Gray had always been his own man. “Still it would be good to have him here.”
“About this wedding . . .” Father began.
“Yes?”
Father pulled open his bottom drawer and withdrew his bottle of whiskey and two glasses.
Win raised a brow. “So, this is to be one of those talks, is it?”
“Don’t be absurd.” Father scoffed and filled the glasses. “Can a man not celebrate the companionship of his only son with a glass of good whiskey?” He slid a glass across the desk toward Win.
“What about the wedding?” Win hefted the glass and took an appreciative sip. His father did know his whiskey.
“I assume, from what your mother has said, that the preparations are all in order,” Father said in an overly casual manner.
“In truth, I have no idea. It seems the groom is of little use in the planning of weddings. Therefore I have done the intelligent thing and stayed out of it.”
“Very wise.” Father paused. “While your mother and I have urged you to find a suitable bride, I do hope our encouragement has not pushed you in the wrong direction.”
Win frowned. “What do you mean?”
Father shifted uneasily in his chair. “After the last . . .”
“Failed engagement? Cancelled wedding? Embarrassing incident? Humiliating debacle?” Win cast his father a dry look. “Do feel free to stop me at any time.”
“I was going to simply say time, but I suppose all of those are fairly accurate.” Father shook his head. “I was quite proud of you, you know. I can’t imagine it was easy to keep the exact circumstances of the termination of the engagement to yourself. To allow the world to place the fault at your feet rather than hers, thus protecting her reputation.”
“If you recall, I have never had a reputation particularly worthy of protection.”
Father raised a shoulder as if it was o
f no consequence, yet another indication of their ever-changing relationship. There was a time when Win’s less than stellar past behavior would have prompted at the very least a stern lecture from his father and accompanying worried looks from his mother. The kind that suggested she feared he would come to a bad end and she could do nothing to prevent it save pray to a higher power. “Nor did I at your age.”
Win had long suspected as much.
“Pity your gallantry was undeserved.” Father snorted. “It would have gone far better for her had she been smart enough to have waited more than a few weeks to announce her engagement to another man.”
“Still, while I wasn’t at the time, I am grateful to her at this point. I could have married the wrong woman instead of biding my time and waiting for the right one.”
“I did think twenty-five was a bit young to marry at any rate.”
“And yet you never said a word.”
“It wasn’t easy.” Father chuckled. “Why, I didn’t wed until I had passed my thirty-first year.”
Win studied his father for a long moment. Very often what his father didn’t say was every bit as important as what he did say. He chose his own words with care. “But you think twenty-seven an acceptable age?”
“I’m not sure age truly matters when one is certain one has found the right woman.” Father had long been a master of evasive answers. He leaned back in his chair and considered his son over the rim of his glass. “As you have done.”
“Indeed I have,” Win said staunchly.
“And you are certain?”
“I haven’t a doubt in my mind.” Which wasn’t entirely the truth, but that was not something he wished to admit to his father or, for that matter, to himself. It was bad enough to have chosen the wrong woman once. Twice, well, he pushed the thought from his head. Lucy was definitely not the wrong woman.
Lord Stillwell's Excellent Engagements Page 2