The assembly reconvenes tomorrow, but I fear I am ruined. Thomas Roch will inherit Father’s assets. He must loathe me, for at the hearing he refused to acknowledge my presence. Yes, blood is thicker than water, but what is thicker than money?
Without a farthing to my name, I cannot purchase that seaside cottage or make you a suitable offer of marriage. I shall be fortunate if I secure a position
TWELVE
THE NOVEL
Sebastian marched across the entrance hall with a rifle propped against his shoulder. “Look alive, Elias,” he said while smacking his cousin with leather gloves. Like all Darling men, he relished the wee hours of morning, especially when hounds barked outside.
“Must we leave so early?” Elias squirmed in buckskin breeches, a garment lent to him for the occasion. He rubbed grit from his eyes and followed Sebastian to the vestibule.
Cadwallader Park seemed to buzz with activity as its staff prepared for the hunt. Mrs. Capers’s clattering echoed from the kitchens on the lower level. The valet polished shotguns while the maid beetled from room to room with breakfast trays.
“I daresay you care more about sleep than entertainment,” Sebastian said.
“Sleep is my entertainment.” Elias smirked, his stomach grumbling for more breakfast. He accepted a thick wool coat from the butler and buttoned it over his jacket.
“Promise you won’t be dull. If you complain, I’ll make you sack the grouse.” Sebastian grabbed Elias’s shoulder and dragged him onto the front stoop. Their breaths whirled like smoke as they beheld the landscape’s blue haze, its gossamer webs that glistened with dew. Even the fog seemed hesitant to rise for the day.
Elias shivered and pocketed his hands. He shouldn’t put himself in this situation. Anne and Mrs. Capers had warned him not to flaunt his new friendship. They’d recommended he fake illness to avoid the hunt—advice he’d considered until Sebastian barged into his bedchamber an hour ago. Somehow he’d ended up in riding clothes, his belly half full of porridge.
“Best get a move on,” Sebastian said. “Don’t want you to catch a chill.”
The estate appeared frozen, its topiary garden crystalized by frost, its outbuildings iced like gingerbread. Five horses waited on the lawn. Their hooves created U’s in the verglas as Mr. Darling wove among them, attempting to quiet his pack of hounds. He blew into a whistle. He shouted obscenities, which startled the onlooking women more than his dogs.
“Gracious. Any earlier and I would’ve come in my night shift.” Josephine entered the cold, wearing only her slate-blue dress and boots, her unbrushed hair baled with a ribbon.
“Ah, my lovely fiancée. You look . . . fit for the outdoors,” Sebastian said. He snatched Josephine’s hand from her side and pecked her knuckles, perhaps to appease his mother and future mother-in-law. The women seemed to watch him like hawks.
Elias smiled, his face warming against the wind. “Did you finish the book?” he asked Josephine once Sebastian joined Mr. Darling on the lawn.
“Yes. I read until midnight, but then I was too afraid to sleep. What marvellous fiction. You must lend me another novel, perhaps one with more ghosts. The last didn’t have nearly enough.” Josephine beamed at him. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, its tip caressing her rouge-smeared cheekbone. “How did Sebastian entrap you in his plans?”
“I owed him a favour.”
“For what?”
“I’m not sure. He claims I owe him a great deal.” Elias laughed and stepped into the manor’s doorway. “Perhaps I’ll sneak inside—”
“No, no, you must come.” Josephine gripped his sleeve, her thumb grazing his bare wrist. She drew back. Her cheeks flushed. “I won’t press you, though. If you decide not to join us, I’ll tell Sebastian you’re unwell. At least one of us should be able to escape this madness.”
Without another word, she hurried toward the hunting party.
Elias sighed and rubbed the spot her fingers had touched. Every thud of his heart seemed unrequited, but he couldn’t walk away. He couldn’t preserve himself. He needed to stand close to her, for the sight of something wonderful—like a first snowfall or Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens—seemed better than nothing at all.
Ice crunched beneath his boots as he strode across the front lawn. He waded through Mr. Darling’s pack of dogs, their coats smearing mud across his breeches.
“Are you warm enough, Elias?” Mrs. Darling asked. She and Widow De Clare observed from a distance, both swaddled by cloaks and shawls.
“Satisfactory,” he said. His teeth chattered from the bitter wind. His cheeks grew numb. Still, he dare not ask for more clothes and subject himself to Sebastian’s mockery.
“You’re the responsible one, Nephew. I trust you’ll guard my boys from misadventure.” Mrs. Darling mustered an affectionate smile. She pivoted toward the main house and glared at Fitz, who peered from his nursery window. Poor lad—the hounds must’ve woken him.
“I shall do my best,” Elias said. He reached his steed and adjusted its stirrups. His legs required ample slack, more than the stableman gave him.
“Josephine, you look indecent. Did you not consider your attire?” Widow De Clare yelled. “No one of importance will attend your wedding if you damage your reputation.”
“I disagree, Mama,” Josephine shouted in response. She grabbed her horse’s reins and snickered. “Scandal engenders popularity. A woman of little propriety may not receive the public’s respect, but she will gain their attendance.”
Widow De Clare scowled, her jaw set. She removed her cloak—a wool tartan—and motioned for her daughter to take it. “At least wear my shawl.”
Josephine crossed the lawn, her boots creating divots in the frost. She draped Widow De Clare’s garment over her shoulders, then returned to her stallion, where Mr. Darling lectured on rifles and game. He must’ve told a joke, for she tilted back her head and laughed at the grey sky.
“Do keep an eye on her, Elias. I
