Chapter Nine

M ills greeted them as they stepped into the foyer, and Byron requested hot water for baths be sent up to both their bedchambers. Lady Mirella left to check on her sister, and Byron asked the butler where his uncle was.

“In his study, my lord,” Mills replied.

“Have the first round of hot water sent to Lady Mirella’s bedchamber,” he instructed. “I need to speak to my uncle, and then I will take time to bathe.”

“Very good, my lord,” the butler said.

Byron went to see Uncle Hugh, pausing outside the door and taking a deep breath before knocking.

“Come,” he heard through the door, and Byron entered the room, closing the door behind him.

“Ah, Bridgewater,” his uncle said. “Have you returned from your outing with Lady Mirella? We missed you at tea. Your aunt was ready to send out a search party for the two of you.”

Taking a seat, he said, “It was a rather full day. I took Lady Mirella to see all the sights around Grasmere, and we even walked up to the top of Helm Crag to take in the views since this is her first trip to the Lake District.”

Uncle Hugh gave him a knowing smile. “And did you enjoy the lady’s company? Lady Mirella is like a breath of fresh air. So lovely and spirited.”

“I believe she enjoyed our tour quite a bit,” he replied.

His uncle’s penetrating gaze made him uncomfortable. “That wasn’t what I asked, Bridgewater.”

He sighed. “Can I not be Byron when we are alone, Uncle Hugh? Do you know not a single person has called me by my given name in years? In the army, I was always Lieutenant and then Captain or Captain Balfour most of the time, and Balfour to officers I was particularly close to. Then I received the news from Pilsbury which changed the entire trajectory of my life. From the moment I met with him, I have been Bridgewater or my lord. Even Mama calls me Bridgewater—in private!

“I miss being Byron, even if it is only you and Aunt Flora who calls me by my name. I feel I have become a title. That the person I am is slowly disappearing, and he will never be seen again.”

Sympathy filled Uncle Hugh’s eyes. “I well understand that, Byron. When I assumed my own title, I doubt I heard my Christian name for years. Even once your aunt and I wed, she called me Benton for the longest time. Finally, I told her we were partners in life, and I wished for her to call me Hugh when we were alone.” He smiled. “She has done so ever since.”

His uncle shifted in his chair. “I see nothing but unhappiness in your eyes, Byron. You are a marquess now. Why are you so miserable? You are no longer on a battlefield, having to kill men who are strangers to you. I would think claiming your title and its wealth would be quite pleasant after all which you have been through.”

“I will be leaving Benbrook tomorrow,” he revealed, an ache filling him.

“What? So soon? Flora will be so disappointed.” Uncle Hugh paused, studying Byron carefully. “Does Lady Mirella have something to do with this decision?”

“She has everything to do with it.” Byron took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “I am quite attracted to her, Uncle, but she cannot be a part of my future. I already know who my wife will be.”

Confusion clouded his uncle’s eyes. “You are betrothed? Why have you kept this from us? When is the wedding? Flora will wish us to be there.”

He raked both hands through his hair. “I am not betrothed. Yet. The bride is the same one Father chose for Dawson.”

A knowing look crossed his uncle’s face. “The Bowles girl. Yes, Bridgewater was close with her father. The two of them were inseparable. He told me of the wedding settlements he and Lord Hampton had drawn up.” Uncle Hugh frowned. “But that was for Dawson. Not you, Byron.”

“I feel the need to honor my father’s wishes and join our families as he planned to be done. Jacinda will make her come-out next spring, Uncle. I plan to offer for her at that time.”

“Do you have special feelings for this girl?”

He shook his head. “I have not seen her in years. I did visit with her brother, the new Lord Hampton, after I returned from the war and learned from my solicitor that it was Hampton who had been racing with Dawson.”

“Your brother always had a reckless streak,” Uncle Hugh noted. “As did your father. That was one of the reasons he got along so well with Hampton. They were peas in a pod in that respect. But that does not mean you must step in and wed the chit, Byron. You are under no obligation to do so. Your solicitor should have made that clear to you. The contracts called for Dawson to wed the girl. Not you.”

Stubbornness filled him. “It is what Father wanted. It is what I want.”

Uncle Hugh shook his head sadly. “You are chasing after a ghost, Byron. Your father cared little for you when he was alive. He certainly does not care what you do from his grave.”

Resolve filled him. “Nevertheless, it was his wish for our two families to join together. The marriage contracts for Jacinda to wed Dawson were signed even before Father’s passing. I intend to make Jacinda my wife.”

“But you just admitted that you have not even seen her in years. You may not even like her, much less want to wed her,” his uncle protested.

Byron already knew he would not like Jacinda. He hadn’t liked the child she was, self-centered and rude, and he doubted she had changed in the years since he’d last seen her, especially being raised under Lady Hampton’s supervision. Still, he believed it important to follow through on what had been expected of Dawson. As the new Marquess of Bridgewater, Byron wanted to live up to the title and its responsibilities. That included the marriage which should have taken place between his brother and Jacinda. She would still be wedding the Marquess of Bridgewater, just not the one previously intended for her.

“My mind is made up, Uncle Hugh,” he said stiffly. “I will attend the upcoming Season and press my suit with Miss Bowles. I will also speak to her brother before the Season begins and assume I will have his support in this endeavor.”

He did not mention how Lord Hampton already was having a difficult time controlling his sister. Byron thought that might work in his favor, offering to take Jacinda off Hampton’s hands.

Playing devil’s advocate, his uncle asked, “What if she won’t have you, Byron? What if some other young swain catches her fancy? While you are more handsome than your brother and have far more intelligence and kindness than he ever possessed, the Bowles girl might find someone else more appealing.”

“She will do as her brother says,” he said dismissively. “Women are under the care of their parents or guardians, as is the case with Miss Bowles, Uncle. While she may entertain various suitors, she will do as she is told.”

At least, Byron hoped Jacinda would. From what Lord Hampton had said, his sister was headstrong and close to uncontrollable. He decided to let the Season begin and see the number of suitors Jacinda drew. He would approach her brother at the right time and make his offer. With Hampton’s supposed gambling debts growing, Byron might even offer to waive the bridal dowry due him in order to tempt Hampton into entering the negotiations.

“You shared you were leaving because of Lady Mirella,” Uncle Hugh said. “Do you care to elaborate?”

He refused to tell his uncle that he had lost his heart to the auburn-haired beauty and merely said, “She is a distraction. Admittedly, a beautiful one. I do not need that. My future is set.”

Uncle Hugh steepled his fingers on the desk. “So, you are saying you will not stay for the rest of your visit because it might give Lady Mirella hope that something could blossom between you.” He paused. “Or it already has taken on life—and you do not wish to hurt her?”

He swallowed painfully. “The latter,” he admitted. “I need to end things before they start. Or rather, before they continue.”

His uncle studied him carefully. “She will be wounded by your leaving.”

“Yes. I know that,” he said, his own hurt growing within him. “She will make her come-out next spring, however. You see how she is, Uncle Hugh. A beautiful, bright light. Lady Mirella will easily attract a good number of men.”

The thought made him nauseous.

“Is she like Matty?” his uncle asked. “Seeking a love match?”

The question startled him. “Why, yes. She shared that she intended to have one or not wed. She told me that Strongs wed for love, which has included her brother, the duke, as well as her mother and two older sisters.” Byron paused. “I did not think Lady Mathilda had ever wed. Was it because she did not find love?”

Sadness crossed Uncle Hugh’s face. “No, she found it. The gentleman who owned her heart left to take up his commission, though. He was killed in the American colonies. Matty tried her best to give other men a chance, but her heart was never hers to give again because it belonged to her lieutenant.”

“Well, Lady Mirella does not love me,” he said flatly, ignoring the fact that he loved her . “She will easily attract a good number of suitors next Season. I am certain she will make the love match she seeks.”

“It will be hard for you to see her with other men, won’t it?” his uncle asked softly.

“Yes,” he hissed. “It is why I must depart from Benbrook,” Byron insisted. “If I could, I would leave now and not even come to dinner this evening.”

He stood abruptly. “Yes, I think that best, Uncle Hugh. I will have my valet pack and will leave at once.”

“Without even a goodbye to your aunt?” Uncle Hugh asked, frowning.

“Of course not,” he insisted. “I will bathe and dress and then speak with Aunt Flora.”

“You won’t get far,” his uncle pointed out. “It is already late in the day, and you shouldn’t travel in the dark, Byron.”

“I will stay at the inn in Grasmere. Then leave from there first thing in the morning.”

Uncle Hugh rose and offered Byron his hand. “You know Flora and I have always supported you in whatever you did, Byron. We will continue to do so. You having a title does not change what is between us. I do believe you are making a mistake, though, in insisting upon wedding your neighbor. Especially when it is apparent that you have strong feelings where Lady Mirella is concerned.”

He tried to pull away, but Uncle Hugh held fast to Byron’s hand. “Do not sign any marriage contracts with Lord Hampton just yet. Please. Go to the Season. Reacquaint yourself with the Bowles chit. Meet other young, eligible ladies, as well. Even spend a bit of time with Lady Mirella. If she’ll allow that.”

Byron doubted she would. He had already seen her temper flare. By leaving Benbrook now, he would not be in her good graces.

“Only then, once a few weeks have passed, should you consider if the plan you have for your future is sound. You may meet someone else you would rather spend the rest of your life with.”

Gazing deeply into Byron’s eyes, Uncle Hugh said, “Marriage is a lifetime commitment, Byron. You want to spend those decades with someone you like. Someone you respect. Hopefully, someone you might grow to love.”

In his heart, he knew Jacinda would not be that kind of wife. They would have a typical ton marriage, with her providing him with an heir, while he gave her a title and a considerable amount of wealth and status. Still, he knew his uncle meant well.

“Very well, Uncle Hugh. I will make no sudden commitments at the beginning of the Season,” he promised. “I will wait and see if Jacinda is the right woman to become my marchioness.”

“Good,” his uncle said, finally releasing Byron’s hand. “I am glad to hear of it.”

“This is goodbye,” he said to the older man, his arms going about his uncle. “Thank you for always being supportive of me.”

“Go and get that bath,” his uncle teased. “You still smell like the sweat of your climb and the scent of your horse. I will tell Flora you wish to see her in an hour. Go to her sitting room. We can say that you have received word from Bridgewater and that you must return to attend to an urgent matter.”

“Very well.”

Byron left his uncle’s study and found Mills, asking the butler to tell the stables to ready his horse and carriage for his return home. Clever servant that he was, Mills never flinched, much less inquired why Byron might be leaving Benbrook when the sun would set in two hours.

Returning to his bedchamber, he rang for Keller. When the valet arrived, Byron announced, “We are leaving at once. Pack quickly.”

“Now, my lord?” the servant asked, clearly confused. “But it—”

“Make haste, Keller.”

“Yes, my lord,” the valet replied.

A knock sounded at his door, and he answered it, seeing several servants with jugs of water in hand and two footmen bearing a bathing tub.

“Come in,” he said. “Prepare the bath.”

He watched as they rested the tub on the ground and proceeded to pour the steaming water into it. Another servant appeared with soap and a bath sheet.

“Leave,” he told them, stripping off his clothes and sinking into the hot water.

For a few minutes, Byron merely rested his nape on the edge of the tub, enjoying the heat of the water. Keller offered to bathe him, but he told the valet to stick with the packing. He scrubbed himself clean and by then, Keller said he was finished. The valet rinsed Byron as he stood and then wrapped the bath sheet about him.

“Go and pack your own things, Keller,” he told the valet. “I can dress myself.” He paused, smiling ruefully. “Except for the cravat. I will save it for you to tie.”

The corners of Keller’s mouth turned up. “Very well, my lord. I won’t be long.”

By the time he had dressed and combed his hair, the valet was back.

“Your carriage is waiting out front, my lord,” Keller informed him. “I have asked for two footmen to come for your trunk.”

“See that they collect it, and wait for me at the carriage. I must say goodbye to my aunt.”

He left the bedchamber and went straight to his aunt’s sitting room, noting she was already dressed for dinner. His uncle was also present, and he knew the lie they had concocted had been told.

Aunt Flora threw her arms about him. “Oh, I wish you could stay longer, Bridgewater. You only just got here.”

“Perhaps you might come and see Mama and me at Bridgefield,” he suggested. “You have not been there in some time. Mama would like that. You know she would have come to see you here, but she cannot abide being in a carriage for that long a trip.”

Aunt Flora released him, mopping her eyes with the handkerchief her husband passed to her. “When she was a child, she did get sick when riding in one. I am amazed she can make it to town from Bridgefield.”

“It is only because she has the driver stop frequently,” he said. “Even then, she tells me that she is often sick on the side of the road.”

“We will come to you then for Christmas,” Aunt Flora said. “Hugh and I will wish to see what you have done on the estate. Your brother did not spend much time there once he became the marquess. A great deal of his time was spent in town, I gather.”

Byron heard the disapproval in her voice.

“I have some marvelous ideas to use at Bridgefield, thanks to speaking with your steward,” he said. “Mr. Franklin is getting on up in years, and he is wishing to retire. I plan to hire a new steward and implement some of the things which are being done at Benbrook at Bridgefield.”

“Then we look forward to seeing you for the holiday,” his aunt said, kissing his cheek.

“We will also see more of you in the future,” Uncle Hugh declared, a broad smile on his face.

“How so?” Byron asked.

“Since you have shared with me that you are looking for a bride on the Marriage Mart, we have decided to attend the Season next spring.”

The announcement floored him. “But... you never come to town.”

“We are making an exception,” Aunt Flora said. “I love your mother dearly. She is like my own child since our mother died giving birth to her. I raised your mama, Byron, and I know how opinionated she can be. I do not want her to push you into a marriage. Hugh and I will come to town and help temper her opinions. We want you to be happy in your choice of a bride.”

Uncle Hugh continued smiling, and he believed the old man thought to keep Byron from becoming betrothed to Jacinda Bowles.

He smiled. “It will be lovely having the both of you in town,” he lied. “Since you have no residence in London, I insist that you stay with Mama and me.”

While he would like seeing more of his aunt and uncle, his mind was set. Byron would wed Jacinda—and they would not have to delay the ceremony because the two people he loved most would already be in London.

They left the sitting room, and he swore under his breath when he saw Lady Mirella and Miss Feathers coming toward them. Both women were dressed for dinner.

“Ah, you are in time to say farewell to Bridgewater,” Uncle Hugh told the pair.

Byron forced himself to meet Lady Mirella’s gaze. “I have been called back to Bridgefield by my mother,” he explained. “An urgent matter has arisen. One which only I can deal with.”

As he spoke, Lady Mathilda joined them. “Oh, we are so sorry to see you leave, my lord. I am certain we will meet again during the Season, however.”

“Yes, Aunt Matty, we most likely will,” he said, using the name she had requested, hoping that would soften the blow of his departure. “You must give my apologies to Lady Effie, as well,” he continued. “I hope she is doing better.”

“Much better, my lord,” Miss Feathers said. “Though she will be disappointed you will not be able to play tour guide for her. Lady Mirella was telling us all you saw today.”

“Lady Mirella has an excellent memory. She will be able to take the both of you to see the same places we saw today,” he replied, once again making himself look her in the eye. “It was a pleasure escorting you about Grasmere today, my lady.”

He saw the knowing look in her eyes. She knew he was running away from her—but she was too much a lady to call him out on it.

“If you care to visit Shadowcrest, as we discussed, you are welcome anytime, Lord Bridgewater,” she said politely. “Caleb would be happy to show you about the place and discuss estate management with you.”

“Oh, that would be wonderful, my lord,” Lady Mathilda said. “We would welcome you to Shadowcrest. You could bring your mother with you when you visit.”

Byron would not be taking Mama anywhere with him, least of all Shadowcrest.

“Thank you for the invitation. I must be going, however. It was lovely meeting you all. Please give Lady Effie my best.”

He bowed and retreated to where his carriage awaited. The entire group followed him outside. Climbing into the carriage, he looked out the window and waved. Everyone waved back at him, but Byron’s gaze went to Lady Mirella. She mouthed one word which he had no trouble deciphering.

Coward.