Chapter 19

Chapter 19

March blew through the air, bringing with it the promise of springtime soon to arrive.

In no time at all, the snow would melt, and his journey home from the hospital would once become pleasant again. Perhaps he would even take a walk through the park when it got warmer, taking in a few last moments of freedom before the pressure of his earldom enveloped him the moment he returned to Little Harkwell.

But before he could even get to the monument for Archibald White outside the hospital, Graham called him from the entrance.

"Ernest! I am glad I caught you before you retired for the day."

"Is everything okay, Graham?"

"Yes, yes." He waved him off. "I called you back not to do with work but to invite you to dinner tonight at my house. It has been a while since I had company." He paused. "I am having my cook prepare those potatoes you like."

"The ones with the thyme seasoning?"

"Those ones, exactly."

"Ah, well, good potatoes and company? How could I refuse?"

They laughed together, and Graham clapped Ernest on his shoulder. It had been almost a year since the Battle of Waterloo, and he was seeing glimpses of a lighter weight on his friend's shoulders. They rode to Graham's townhouse, and his friend led him inside. It had been some time since he had visited this residence, and walking through the hallways made him reminisce about his simpler life: a medic and his assistant. Now an earl and a chairman, yet still holding onto their physician status.

"Have yourself a seat in the dining room, and I shall join you once I send for wine," Graham said, gesturing into the dining hall.

But as soon as Ernest walked in, his eyes landed on powder-blue sleeves capping pale shoulders and raven-black hair styled prettily.

He paused, rearing back, and snagged Graham just as he was about to disappear, no doubt on purpose.

"Graham, did you purposefully forget to mention that Lady Samantha and her aunt would be joining us for dinner tonight? I did not agree to this."

"She is a friend, Ernest. You are both my guests. What is the problem?"

"The problem is that you have set me up! You pressed to correspond with Lady Samantha, and now she is here. Why, you are not better than my mother, Graham!"

"Ernest, I assure you—"

"You are trying to set Lady Samantha and me up so you have a clear pathway to Miss Gundry, are you not?"

"You cannot be seriously accusing me of such a thing! I would never go against you. I gave you my word regarding Miss Gundry when I saw that it bothered you." He hesitated, and Ernest narrowed his eyes.

"Spit it out," he hissed.

"It is only that I do agree with Lady Katherine regarding your potential match with Lady Samantha. I only wished to provide her with good company tonight, but I do think courting her—or at least entertaining the thought of asking her to court you—would be an honourable thing for Archibald's memory."

Yet, although his words sounded encouraging, something like uncertainty flickered across Graham's face, and Ernest could not figure out the root of it.

"Ernest, you must believe me. It is not access to Miss Gundry that drives tonight's dinner invitation. I simply want the best for you."

"And you truly think that marrying Lady Samantha is what is best for me?"

"Well, why would it not be?"

The question hit Ernest terribly, and the realization of his answer that he dared not share settled in his chest. He was overwhelmed, his stomach growing heavy, at the thought of marrying a woman who … who was not Miss Gundry. His thoughts slowly pieced together the revelation, and he sagged against the wall, even as Graham bypassed him, intent on retrieving wine.

He could not marry Miss Gundry or give in to his overwhelming feelings for her that were steadily growing, along with his need to protect her, but he could not marry another woman, either.

He looked into the dining room, where Lady Samantha watched from the doorway, waiting for either Ernest or Graham to return. Ernest steeled himself before he walked into the room, smiling politely.

"Lady Samantha," he greeted. "Mrs Elizabeth Brooks." He bowed to them, and they both rose, curtsying.

"Lord Bannerdown," Lady Samantha greeted in return.

"It is lovely to see you again. I apologize it has been so long."

"It is no matter," she assured him as they all took their seats. "Although I must admit the chairman's letters have kept me plenty company."

"They have?"

"Indeed. He writes extensively. He has been telling me tales of Archibald. It is strange how it has been almost a year, and yet everybody is still watching me like a grieving widow. I do not want their pity, only their acceptance of me going back into Society when the Season begins again."

"You have plans for it?" he asked, happy that her focus did not seem to be on pursuing him, at least.

"I do," she answered. "And I cannot burden my dear aunt for much longer."

"You are always a blessing to have," her aunt assured her. "However, I have explained to Lady Samantha that she must not wait too long to reenter and find another match. I understand grief, but Lady Samantha must understand Society."

The young lady nodded as if understanding, even if her aunt now addressed Ernest himself.

"And yourself, Lord Bannerdown?" Lady Samatha asked as Graham returned with a bottle of wine. He looked pleased at his guests conversing. "Is there to be a Lady Bannerdown anytime soon? The Season must hold prospects for you, must it not?"

"Ah," he said, pausing. "I imagine so. Graham, that wine looks delicious. Is it European?"

"It is Italian," he answered. "Good eye for the name."

"I have been listening in on Lady Florence's lessons." He laughed. "I am learning the language patterns from Miss Gundry herself."

"An accomplished governess, from what I hear," Lady Samantha noted, smiling.

"Indeed, she is," Ernest answered. She is also accomplished at haunting my dreams at night and somehow always being there when I both want and need her.

"And yourself, Mr Courtenay?" Lady Samantha asked when the first course of dinner was served. "Is there a Mrs Courtenay on your horizon?"

"Marriage is not for a fellow like me," he grumbled. "I must admit the war changed me somewhat. I was jollier then. Now, I fear I would make any wife of mine miserable with my dour moods I am prone to and my long hours at the hospital."

"Of course, she would have to understand that," Lady Samantha said, her eyes sparkling. "A lady who truly appreciated a man of your position would surely understand."

"I would hope so." He laughed quietly. "Or perhaps she would chase me down to the hospital herself and cause a scene. Can you imagine, I am up to my eyes in paperwork and in storms my wife, asking why I was late home for dinner?"

Lady Samantha laughed aloud at that, and after the weight she had seemed to carry when she visited Little Harkwell, Ernest was happy to hear her laughter. Grief could not take everything away.

The wine was poured, and Graham noted Lady Samantha's enjoyment.

"You have a good taste for fine wine, Lady Samantha?"

"Archibald taught me some in his correspondences," she explained. "So, I sampled a few upon his recommendation."

"It was actually him who taught me some differences between several wines."

"It seems we both have one more thing in common. How do you feel about the snow?"

He grinned, and Ernest loved seeing the glimpse of his old friend. "I love it."

"As do I! It is like the biggest, softest blanket."

"And coldest one," he pointed out.

"But that is what makes it marvellous! For afterwards, I can sit by the fire with a book."

Ernest watched their banter back and forth, marvelling at how they both seemed to tug off the shroud of grief from each other without realizing it truly. Lady Samantha was bringing out the side of Graham that Ernest had not seen since they toasted to their futures on the cusp of war.

"If it snows at the Toasting Ball, then I shall find you, and perhaps we can take a walk in the snow if the party gets too warm." Graham laughed. "As your friend, it shall be my honour to show you around the grounds at the ball."

"What is the Toasting Ball?" Ernest asked.

"It is what I have fondly called the fundraiser," Graham told him. Ah. Despite spending many nights helping to fund and organize the fundraiser, Ernest had quite forgotten about the ball hosted in Archibald's honour to help raise funds for the new hospital wing. "For he loved a good toast, and nobody is the host necessarily. It is a charitable thing so to call it after a host's name did not feel right."

Ernest quietly wondered if he just didn't want to use the Bannerdown name to attach to his ball but knew his own would not have the sway needed to get invitations accepted.

"I wonder if your governess shall attend, Lord Bannerdown," Lady Samantha enquired.

He stiffened. "Why would she?"

"I have only heard rumours that she has been accompanying you everywhere. To the playhouse, even."

"She is my ward's governess," he explained, his voice tight. "And I have been attempting to bond with my ward by taking her on excursions and having her present at dinner parties, so her governess needed to attend. That is all there is to it."

"If I may interrupt, Lady Katherine informed us of something different during our stay at Little Harkwell," Mrs Brooks said. "And there is word around Bath as well." She lowered her voice. "Word that … well, that your governess has feelings for you. It is terribly unfortunate if she does. The poor woman, she must not have two coins to click together."

"Mrs Brooks, please refrain from speaking about my ward's governess in such a manner," Ernest said, glancing at Graham and narrowing his eyes. Do something, he wished to convey.

"I am also rather curious about her," Lady Samantha said. "See, I was at the modiste earlier today and ran into Lady Katherine and Lady Florence. I overheard her tell Lady Florence that Miss Gundry was not everything she said she was. I only assumed that perhaps she feigned some educational levels, but what if it is more? She holds herself rather differently than my governess did. Mine was rigid, stoic, and barely spoke, but Miss Gundry seems to be rather involved. Does she not?"

Although the words were said gently, with consideration, Ernest could feel his temper rising. How dare they discuss Claire's personal life. He knew the truth, of course, but he could not believe his mother would risk gossiping so brazenly. And to Lady Florence, of all people. The young woman had just begun to trust Claire once again; he did not wish to see that compromised.

Ernest looked down at his course, a half-eaten pheasant, with the potatoes he truly liked under normal circumstances, but between the set-up that he struggled to believe was something innocent, the thought of marrying Lady Samantha, and the gossip about Claire, he had lost his appetite.

He craved her company. He did not wish to remain in Graham's house any longer.

His rage flared, and he set down his cutlery with some force. "Graham, Lady Samantha, Mrs Brooks. I am afraid I must take my leave now. Enjoy the remainder of your evening and your dinner. I must leave for Lady Florence's recital. Mentioning her has reminded me."

"Ernest—"

"Thank you for dinner, Graham," he said curtly. He bowed to the two women, walked out into the snow, and hailed a carriage home.

All he could think of was finding Claire and being in her company. He strode right into the dining hall, where the governess dined with Lady Florence. They both looked up in surprise at his sudden approach.

"Where is Lady Katherine?" he demanded.

"She—" Claire cleared her throat, startled. "She retired early, claiming a headache."

"Good," he said. "I need you both to listen carefully. I am telling you both that you must leave for London later this week. It is no longer a request, and I cannot fully explain why, but in the interest of me protecting you, I wish for it to happen as soon as possible."