“Were you really addressed by your initials?” Violet asked though not at all surprised that her grandmother would have the audacity to demand such.

  Lord Ferrard chuckled. “Yes, we were.”

  “Shall I refer to you as Lord F, then?” Why was she teasing him? She’d never teased anyone in her life, and if asked yesterday, Violet would have claimed that she didn’t even know how.

  “You may call me whatever you wish.”

  Goodness, for a moment, Violet wanted to find the most inappropriate endearment and begin addressing Lord Ferrard as such. What had happened to her?

  First the oddest sensations in her being when in his presence and now she wasn’t even behaving as normal. Was it possible that in this courtship of convenience she’d actually gained a friend?

  Violet would like to believe so since she could think of only one other person that she was as comfortable with, her dearest friend Silvia.

  Odd that she’d feel as such for a gentleman whom she’d known such a short time, but Violet trusted him. There were ladies and misses that she’d met in London two years ago and she didn’t feel the same trust with them. She hoped that she and Lord Ferrard could remain friends after their courtship came to an end.

  Ferrard stopped in front of the warped, dark rounded door. “Does this even open?”

  “I’m not so certain that it’s safe inside.”

  He then stepped to the arched window surrounded by dark stone. “I’m not certain anyone has been in there in decades.”

  Violet joined him and looked into the ancient chapel. The benches where parishioners had once sat were broken and warped from being exposed to the elements. Above, nests had been built in what was left of the rafters along the roof edge, still protected from the elements, waiting for birds to return in the spring. Along the cracks in the stone floor, weeds had grown but were long dead given the winter.

  “It seems as if nature is trying to claim the building,” he murmured.

  The ancient building was nearly covered in vines and ivy that had climbed the sides of the stone. Grass grew without interruption through the churchyard, dead now, but would return come spring and probably be dotted with wildflowers in the lush green. She’d forgotten how peaceful and lovely it was at the ruins and should visit more often. Given the age of the structure, and many of the surrounding trees, there would also be several specimens she could study.

  Chapter 13

  Emory had visited many ruins in his life, especially as a boy, but he’d never seen a setting so lovely with the way something so ancient still stood against time. Scarred and blemished, but “Almost romantic”.

  Where had that thought come from?

  Emory had never thought of anything in terms of romantic before. He’d heard many ladies and misses speak of such, but it was nothing he’d ever aspired to achieve or even experience.

  Violet pulled back and glanced up at him. “You find the ruins romantic.”

  Bloody hell, this was the second time that he’d spoken thoughts aloud. The first had been when he quoted Sir Walter Scott on deception. He really must be more aware not to speak all that he was thinking.

  “It could serve as a romantic setting if one were pursuing such, as with your sister and her visiting lords,” he quickly explained before he turned to stroll toward the cemetery. Violet drew to his side, hands locked behind her back, and tilted her chin to look about as if she were taking in their surroundings. Was she considering if the setting could be viewed as romantic or dismissing him as foolish?

  Emory paused at what was left of a crumbling stone wall. Beyond, and beneath the long, crooked, naked branches of the ancient trees were the stained, once white headstones. Some tilted, having sunk into the soft ground, others had fallen completely, or had been broken over time, and most were so weather damaged, their surfaces worn away from harsh elements, that it was nearly impossible to read names and dates.

  As for their chaperone, Lady Joanna had found a fallen tree and had settled upon the large trunk to read and barely paid them any mind.

  “I’ve a curiosity, Lord Ferrard.”

  He cocked an eyebrow as he regarded Lady Violet. “Yes.”

  “You stated yesterday, that until this past summer, you’d had many interests, yet you don’t any longer. Is there a reason?”

  There was an excellent reason, which remained a closely held secret? Then again, it hadn’t been quite five months, so it was unlikely anyone had even noticed the absence of his father. Yet, Emory found himself reluctant to speak of his current circumstances, as nobody knew of his father’s failing health or deficiencies in his mind. Emory had listened to enough tales about the king before and after the prince began serving as Regent that Emory had no desire for such speculation to be bandied about of the Earl of Lovell.

  He glanced down at Violet’s perfect profile and despite the desire to keep the family secrets private, Emory experienced the nearly overwhelming need to be completely truthful with her. He didn’t know from where or why the need arose, but it welled up within and had settled in his gut, sitting heavy as if he’d eaten too much and would remain uncomfortable until digested. He had a feeling that the stone would remain there until he told her the truth. He needed to release some of the burden he carried, even though she could offer no assistance.

  “The interests remain. I’ve been too busy to enjoy them as I’ve spent all my free time learning everything that is needed to manage our estate, Hawthorn Park. Eventually the whole of it will come under my care, and I must be prepared.”

  “My brother has been learning since he was a lad. Did you put off learning, Lord Ferrard?”

  Learning and being the one to make the decisions were two entirely different circumstances. Soon, the whole of it would be on his shoulders, though most of it he carried now. It was the reason that he must find a wife during the next Season so that the most monumental decision of his life was behind him and he’d be able to concentrate on what was best for his family. “No,” he answered. “I did not become the heir until I was sixteen, when my older brother became ill and died unexpectedly.”

  “I was unaware, Lord Ferrard. I am sorry for your loss.”

  “I was never supposed to be the one to shoulder the responsibilities. I was nothing more than the spare and enjoyed the freedom of little pressure until Gavin was gone. Then the expectations of my future shifted dramatically. Any choice I may have made for myself was erased, and centuries of tradition, legacy, and heritage determined my place.”

  “As with those born of my gender, heirs have little control over their future either.”

  “There is also another reason why I’ve been devoted to Hawthorn Park these past six months.”

  Lady Violet tilted her chin, allowing the sun to brighten her face as the bonnet no longer shaded her features.

  “My father suffered an accident in August. He was thrown from his horse and struck his head.”

  Lady Violet sucked in a breath. “Goodness. Has he recovered?”

  There was no easy way to answer such a question. “At first my brother was concerned with a concussion, for which he showed signs, but seemed to recover after a short time.”

  “Thank goodness,” she muttered as they turned to stroll along the perimeter of the cemetery. He was more comfortable walking than standing and staring down at Lady Violet, as this was a difficult topic for him to discuss.

  “Unfortunately, shortly thereafter, after we thought all would be well, he began showing signs of what my brother described as a demented state. Not necessarily a madness that one needed to fear, but loss of memory and confusion. Thus, I’ve needed to take over many of the Earl of Lovell’s duties.”

  “I’m sorry. I’d no idea.”

  “Nobody knows, and I’m asking that you keep this in the strictest of confidences.”

  Her green eyes widened. “Of course, Lord Ferrard. I’d never speak out of turn, especially on something so personal in nature.”

  Emory expected that to be her response, but he needed to hear it from her lips, a clarification of what he’d come to believe after such a short friendship.

  He’d lost much of his father these past few months. Even though Father was physically present, he had poor concentration, slowed thought processes, trouble thinking clearly, and memory loss, which made it necessary for Emory to assume the duties at home.

  “Liam had hoped my father’s loss of memory and confusion would be reduced and disappear in time, but instead, he’s gotten worse in the past two months, and it is unlikely he’ll leave Hawthorn Park again.” Heaviness settled on his shoulders and in his heart.

  “It must be very difficult for you,” Lady Violet offered.

  “It’s actually the reason I had decided to attend your father’s house party,” he added.

  She frowned up at him. “I don’t understand.”

  No, she wouldn’t. Who goes to a house party when their father is so ill? “Given my father’s incapacities, I realized that I could no longer put off marriage.”

  Light dawned in her green eyes as she nodded as if she understood. “As you thought there’d be dozens of ladies and misses in attendance, you’d thought to find a bride.”

  “Yes,” he acknowledged, then sighed. “Unless there is another house party before everyone returns to London, which is unlikely, I will be forced to come to know each lady who has been placed on the marriage mart and make my decision as quickly as possible.”

  She understood his concern that as the heir, Ferrard did have a duty, but it didn’t explain why he remained in Laswell. “Why court me when your father will unlikely realize that you spent above a day or two in consideration of a wife?”

  “Because he still has moments, even days, of complete lucidity, and I want to be able to assure him that I did, indeed, spend a good deal of time in courtship of a beautiful and intelligent woman.”

  He thought her beautiful? Nobody had ever said those words to Violet. Though she believed her features pleasing, as she did own a mirror, but that was symmetry and she certainly didn’t consider herself beautiful.

  “You seem taken aback,” Lord Ferrard noted and if she weren’t mistaken, there was a bit of humor in his sapphire eyes.

  “I believe I am.”

  “Intelligent or beautiful?” he asked as the corner of his mouth quirked.

  “My intelligence is without question,” she answered honestly. “It is the other.”

  “Beautiful?” he chuckled.

  If he were going to laugh at her now, after she’d become comfortable with him and trusted him, Violet would walk away. “It’s something that I’ve not considered.”

  “That failing can be placed on every gentleman in Society for not making you aware.” He reached up and tucked a wayward curl behind her ear. “You are most definitely beautiful, Lady Violet.”

  Though what was attractive to one may be ugly to another and the fact that opinions were completely subjective didn’t diminish the warmth that spread through Violet’s breast at Lord Ferrard calling her beautiful. “Thank you, Lord Ferrard. And, might I add that you are handsome as well.” It was all she could think to say, as she was unused to receiving many compliments.

  “You do not have to return the compliment. It was not necessary.”

  “I suppose not,” she admitted. “However, it is nonetheless true.”

  “I thank you.” He smiled as he executed a slight bow. “I just hope my future wife feels as you do.”

  They turned to continue to walk until they reached the cliff overlooking the sea.

  While Violet understood his need to marry, she did not understand his sudden rush to the altar.

  “You are seven and twenty, Lord Ferrard, I do believe.”

  “Yes.”

  “You are not so young that anyone would fault you for marrying, however, I don’t understand your urgency either.”

  “My father’s failing health was a reminder that I’ve not done my duty. He was whole and healthy, and I believed I had years before the responsibilities would become mine.”

  “It’s reasonable. However, I don’t believe anyone should marry for the sake of marrying though many do.”

  “I realize that I’ve been selfish. I should have listened to my father and given more effort in pursuing a bride. I should have seen the future secured.”

  Violet frowned. “How is waiting to marry the woman you desire selfish?”

  “Perhaps because the perfect person doesn’t exist.” He shrugged. “Few marriages are a love match. It’s likely mine won’t be either. I can only hope that it is someone I like.”

  “You are willing to settle into what might be an unhappy future because your father had an accident?”

  “My brother also became ill suddenly when he was seventeen and died. I must do my duty before it’s too late.”

  “Are you ill?” she demanded, suspecting that he was not.

  “No, of course not.”

  “Then your argument is completely illogical, Lord Ferrard.”

  He pulled back as if startled by her comment.

  “You could not have foreseen what would become of your father, as horrible as his condition is, nor what happened to your brother. Yes, accidents do happen, but that is no reason to sacrifice your future happiness in a rush to see that a son is born because something might happen to you.”

  “I’ve put off my duty for too long, hoping that I’d meet the person I should marry. My father has insisted that I’m far too particular. I must now admit that he was correct and will endeavor to find my bride this spring, and if all goes well, have a son the following year.”

  Why did it bother her so much that he was first, illogical, and second, that he’d so quickly marry someone else and give no consideration of her?

  “I assure you that this is a decision I have not made lightly,” his voice rose. “If I could wait to find the perfect lady, I would. However, I no longer have the luxury of doing so, nor the time.”

  “Because you may have an accident or become ill,” she clarified and hoped her tone conveyed how ridiculous she believed he was being.

  “I don’t expect either. In fact, I intend to live into my eighties as most gentlemen in my family have done. However, I’ve three younger sisters who will need to wed, a brother still in school, and an estate that needs my attention. The sooner I marry, the quicker I can put my mind to the future of my family and heirs.”

  “Not being a first-born son, perhaps I can’t appreciate the predicament in which you find yourself. However, I can’t imagine that your father would wish for you to have an unhappy marriage because of duty.”

  “Some of us have no choice.” Lord Ferrard blew out a long sigh then walked over and settled on a stone bench, bending forward and bracing his forehead in his hands.

  Violet immediately regretted her tone and words. He carried a heavy weight and no matter how illogical the reasons for his decision, it did not make what he was facing any easier.

  “I’d simply rather be done with it. In all my years in London, I met not one lady who…one who would be perfect for me, and it’s likely she does not exist. Therefore, I will choose a companion whom I get on well with so that I can give my attention to the estate, see that my mother is cared for, and my younger sisters marry well.”

  “You’re going to sacrifice yourself for them.” Violet sat on the bench beside Lord Ferrard. “If a sister decided to enter into a marriage such as the one you’ve described, would you allow her to do so?”

  He frowned. “Of course not. They will be happy. I shall see to it.”

  “While I again point out, sacrificing yourself when it is not necessary.”

  “The choice is no longer mine,” he nearly yelled, as if she weren’t understanding him.

  Violet pulled back, stunned by his response.

  Ferrard sighed. “It’s my fault,” he admitted. “I did not seriously look for a wife these past years. Only in the last month of the Season.”

  “So, you sought a wife before the injury.” Perhaps she’d misunderstood.

  “No. I had an argument with my father. He didn’t approve of the way I carried on, so I set out to prove to him that I would make a good effort in seeking a bride and ignore my earlier pleasures.”

  Violet’s face heated as she knew what those pleasures had been. Thankfully, he didn’t describe what those were.

  “If I would have just been more serious in my younger years, but I didn’t want to be shackled before it was necessary. I wanted the freedom to enjoy life.” He shook his head. “In truth, I only gave a partial effort in finding a bride that last month, which my father pointed out when the Season came to an end, and now I’ll need to settle for not realizing the seriousness of my situation before he was injured.”

  “I find it difficult to believe that even with half an effort you would not have met the right bride,” Violet offered. “Had she been present, you would have at least been drawn to her, so I reject your argument.”

  Ferrard turned and stared at her, his sapphire eyes growing wide. “I can assure you that I did not show the effort one should when considering a potential courtship.”

  “Why is that? Did you dismiss someone who was desirable because you preferred freedom?”

  “No. There was no one that piqued my interest, and I found the entire process shallow and without meaning, if I must be honest.”

  “Therein is your answer, Lord Ferrard. I’ve met many gentlemen that I’ve conversed with and never wished to converse with a second time. Had there been a woman who aroused your interest, you would have pursued her.” It was all quite clear to Violet. She didn’t understand why it wasn’t clear to Lord Ferrard. He’d simply not met his future wife in the years that he’d been in Society. “I see no reason why you should settle now when you didn’t before.”

  “Before, I thought I had time. I no longer do. Not if I wish to give my family and the estates the attention they require. Therefore, my wife quest must be completed expeditiously so that I no longer need worry.”