Page 31 of A Duke in Autumn

Then the bittersweet thought arose – what else might she have had, had she dared to attempt grasping for what she wanted, earlier? Might she have captured Oakthorpe’s affection?

~~~~~

Morning – he awoke slowly. It was a week, now, since that dreadful dinner party. He had been subjected to an at home afternoon, with a multitude of visitors, mostly female, and to a musical soiree, in that week. If his mother’s attempts to marry him off continued at this rate, he would explode from a combination of frustration and ennui, well before they went to London for the Season.

He had thought that the Season would be torture enough, with flocks of newly-out young women fluttering around hopefully, but it seemed that his mother intended every moment before then to be torture as well. Yet all that happened, each time he was confronted with another hopeful young woman, was that Lady Eugenia came to his mind, and the woman before him simply failed to measure up to the standard which she set, simply by being herself.

He was coming to realise that he cared for her, exactly as his Aunt had suggested. He had been a fool not to realise it – yet, he almost resented the fact.

He had not intended to become enamoured of any woman, especially one as proper as Lady Eugenia – yet, somehow, he had. Somehow, every time he had seen her, every time he had discovered a little more of what lay beneath that polished perfect exterior, he had become more intrigued, and more in love with her.

He had half drifted back to sleep, but at that thought, he started upright.

Love.

He loved Lady Eugenia. His Aunt, damn her, was right.

And he had let her go, without even a word to hint at his feelings. She had gone back to her home, Kilmerstan Castle, near Upper Nettlefold, if he remembered aright, and would forget him – would likely be courted by many come the Season, if she had not already been proposed to by some suitable man by then. The thought of it was like a knife to his heart.

He could not bear it, could not bear the idea of her marrying anyone else, or of marrying anyone but her, himself. Again, his Aunt had been right – if he did not act, he would lose her – and that was an utterly untenable thought. She might yet reject him, of course, but he had to try, had to know if she felt towards him the smallest part of what he felt for her. He rang for Sutton, knowing now what he had to do, and his Mother’s plans for the evening be damned. When the valet appeared, Morris spoke almost sharply, so driven did he feel to be on his way.

“A bath, and some food, brought to me here, if you would. I will dress for travel. Please pack for us to be away a week, perhaps more, and ask that the carriage be brought around in an hour.”

“Yes, Your Grace. But… the dinner which has been planned for tonight…?”

“Will no doubt go on without me, much to my mother’s displeasure. I will inform her of my plans just before we depart – she should be up and about by then.”

“As you wish, Your Grace.”

With the orders given, and things set in motion, Morris felt more awake, more alive, than he had since he’d left Bath. It was as if a fog had cleared from his mind, and the path ahead of him was crystal clear. Sutton returned shortly, followed by three footmen carrying buckets of heated water for his bath, and a maid carrying his breakfast tray.

By the time he had bathed, Sutton had packed, sent the trunk downstairs, and was waiting with his clothes laid out. He forced himself to be still as Sutton shaved him, then again as the man tied his cravat with his usual attention to detail.

Once he was ready, he sent Sutton down to the carriage, to ensure that all was in readiness, and then went in search of his mother.

He found the Duchess in the breakfast room, and she looked up, startled, at his appearance.

“Morris – I didn’t expect you to be up yet. Are you going somewhere?”

“I am, Mother. I will be away for a week, perhaps more, on urgent business. I do apologise, but you will have to manage this evening’s dinner party without me. I am sure that the guests will enjoy themselves regardless.”

She stiffened in her seat, and he waited, wondering what she would say. After a moment, though, she sighed, and slumped a little – her voice, when she spoke, held a tone of resignation.

“I am disappointed. I will give our guests your apologies. Do return soon – I will need to reschedule the things I had arranged for this next week…”

“I know that you will deal with it all in an exemplary fashion, Mother.”

He stepped forward, and bent to kiss her cheek, before turning and exiting the room, with a sense of happiness that he had not felt since returning home.

~~~~~

After the initial excitement of having her mother accept her designing of gowns had worn off, Eugenia threw herself into the designs for Juliana, trying very hard not to think in great depth about anything.

She failed. Her mind kept drifting back to thoughts of Oakthorpe, and of how foolish she had been, not to have understood her own feelings sooner. Winter loomed ahead of her, cold and gloomy, to be followed by the Season in London, when she would no doubt see him favouring other young women, and just as likely marrying one of them. Where once she had been somewhat excited about the Season to come, now she found herself wishing that she need not go. She was not sure that she could bear to watch him with other women.

But what could she do? What did she want, that might in any way be attainable? It was sadly ironic that, now that she had become brave enough to reach for things she wanted, there was nothing she wanted that could be reached for.

She considered writing to him, but put the idea aside – to do so would be utterly beyond the pale – not only did respectable unmarried women not write to gentlemen, but she did not wish to make a fool of herself.