The cream stationery’s clean purity showed a sacrilegious blemish of a sooty boot print where it lay on the carpet. Ethan stared at it until the mark became more than a dirty blemish.
The sooty print proved he worked and fought and toiled alongside his people. But he did all those things because he was the master here. And not only here. No matter where he laid his head or tracked his filthy boots, Ethan would remain Viscount Amesbury.
All the Cousin Jeromes and Lord Bartlesbys in the world couldn’t change that fact. It didn’t matter that society hadn’t fully embraced him, or even that there were merchants who looked down their noses at his rough ways. Ethan was a viscount, and damn anyone who’d try to shame him for the bit of wicked luck that had landed him in this position.
And a viscount would not retreat meekly from the presence of a damned managing lady like a shepherd boy would.
He loved her. He’d shown her over and over in that big bed after announcing to the ton that he was marrying her. “If she wants tae end things, she can do so tae my face. Connor! Whoever can hear me—saddle Ezra.” Slamming the bedroom door behind him, Ethan stopped in his tracks, then returned to the room. With black-stained fingers, he plucked the crumpled paper from the floor and smoothed the letter back into a flat, smudged sheet. Although his hands shook, he carefully folded Lottie’s last letter to him and tucked it away in his pocket. The ride to London would be brutal on his aching body, but the day had only begun.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Please tell me it’s poisoned. Put me out of my misery,” Lottie croaked.
“Don’t tempt me. You’ve wallowed half the day away already. That’s enough, thank you very much.” Darling held the teacup, waiting.
“Blast! Madame Bouvier has probably already begun work.” Lottie shot up in bed, shoving her mass of hair out of her eyes. “I need to cancel the order for the wedding dress.” She rested her head in her hands, wishing the day would end. Father’s letter was written in permanent ink in her brain, she’d read it so many times. Even after sleeping on it, she’d been unable to find a solution.
So she’d ended it.
It had taken five tries to get the letter to Ethan right. The first version was weepy, laying out the whole process, her father’s ultimatum, and her struggle with the decision. Bit by bit she culled the emotion from it until the final draft was crisp and businesslike. With this decision, she was taking her emotions back from his tender care, and it felt wrong to pour her pain into his lap to grapple with alongside his own. The giving of her trust hadn’t been done lightly, so it came as no surprise that the taking back of it was just as deliberate.
A messenger carried the letter to Woodrest this morning while she returned to her room and huddled under the covers like a child hiding from ghosts. The pillow Ethan had used still had traces of his scent, and she’d cuddled it close, wetting the down fluff with her tears.
Darling sank onto the edge of the bed. “You’re sure this is the right choice? We could send a message back to your father. Or let the servants take care of him—the earl deserves something for giving you such an ultimatum. A maid could put cat hair in his smalls. I have friends at Stanwick, you know. The man needs a lesson.”
Despite herself, Lottie let loose a watery laugh. “Nothing so Machiavellian is needed. Although cat hair in his smalls is rather brilliant. I’m in awe and slightly scared for anyone who crosses you.”
“There’s more than one way to hit ’em in their stones, milady. The earl has it coming for sending that letter.”
Lottie picked at a nail before catching herself. “It is a lousy choice to have to make, but it seems that at heart I am nothing but a jilt. An impure one, at that. A jade. As they’d say, ‘I almost tied a knot with my tongue that I couldn’t untie with my teeth.’”
“What in the name of all that’s holy are you nattering on about? Who says that?”
“Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue. Ethan gave it to me. I’m only in the Ks thus far.”
“Ah. Well, you’d best get up. Tell me what’s next. You always have a plan. Tell me all about it.” Darling flung the coverlet back. “What you need is some fresh air. Wear the green wool today. Maybe we can take a walk. That’ll put roses back in your cheeks.” Darling held out the gown.
“As always, you are right. Thank you.”
Today might have been awful, but she had a chance to reclaim her future—the original future she’d wanted before she got caught up in Ethan. Planning her return to Westmorland would keep her mind off how her letter would affect him. It was a cold comfort, but perhaps she was the one taking the brunt of the hurt. After all, if he loved her, he’d have told her. So maybe Ethan’s anger or hurt would be short-lived.
Eventually, Ethan would return to his brewery and his people. And she would find her people elsewhere, while cherishing the one night she’d spent in his arms.
There was a chill in the air to remind everyone that winter approached. Leaves covered the ground in a colorful carpet created by Mother Nature at the expense of the naked tree branches reaching toward the heavens with bare bark fingers.
Darling raised her face to the morning sun. “’Tis easy to be grateful for the weather on a day like today. Soon enough, it will just be endless drab rain.”
“Don’t forget the wind that bites as if it has teeth. Best we enjoy the sun while we have it.” Lottie left the path to wander through the grass toward a copse of trees. After
