Luke grimaced. “I’ve been busy.” He looked down at his crumpled, dirty shirt and his sweaty cravat.
Craven raised a brow. “You certainly have. The question is…what have you been busy doing?”
Luke narrowed his gaze. “If you must know, today I helped repair a bridge.”
Craven spluttered, a bit of spit falling from his mouth onto a parcel of letters. “Are you ill? You? Fixing something?”
Luke looked down at the now-wet parchment. He didn’t answer, not wanting to admit that Craven was absolutely right. He’d done so little in his life that meant anything. When he thought about what Mr. Moorish could have been versus what he’d become…he straightened. He could change his life. Become a man of worth. “Are those for me? You’ve just soaked them.”
Craven handed him the bundle. “You’re welcome.” Then he walked away again.
Luke gingerly carried the bundle into his room and tossed it on a small table next to the fire. It was his correspondence that had been forwarded from London by his solicitor. The man had the personality of a limp rag but he was good at his job, Luke had to give him that. He turned to dress when he noticed the note at the very top of the pile. In neat, perfectly symmetrical handwriting was his formal address.
His gut clenched. He’d know that lettering anywhere. Miranda’s penmanship hadn’t changed in all the years he’d known her.
Luke reached over and grabbed the envelope, slicing open the letter, his heart pounding in his chest. What did she want this time? He’d allowed her to stay in their family home, kept her allowance the same. Guilt stabbed behind his sternum. He’d done his best to keep his word to his brother these past five years.
He skimmed the note, his stomach churning as Miranda’s words washed over him. She asked him to reconsider their possible union. In the passage, she detailed how, as the earl, he needed an heir.
Luke, understand that I know you better than most. I know that responsibility is not your strong suit, but I am uniquely aware of what being a countess means.
He ran his fingers through his hair, her words slicing into him.
I can provide you with a child and then you’ll be free to continue your life undisturbed. I can oversee so many of the duties for you and you can continue to live as you have, free of the burdens that so clearly weigh on you.
His gut rumbled. Hadn’t he held up under that weight? He supposed his avoidance of society could be seen as a failure. And his brother. That was his biggest failure of them all.
Your brother wanted me to be the countess. To have the heir to the Crestwood estate. Honor him in death the way you never did in life and make his final wishes come true.
His fingers shook as he lay down the note. Did he owe this to his brother? Mayhap he did. But he’d never in his life touch Miranda again. That, however, didn’t make her words any less true. Did his lifestyle make him a terrible earl? Had he failed his brother’s memory in his attempt to take over the title?
And what would happen to Adrianna when she became a countess? Would Miranda shred her to pieces? Would the rest of society? Would he hurt her far worse for making her his wife than if he left her now?
Adrianna spent the afternoon selecting tablecloths, arranging flowers, and organizing seating charts. Cordelia and Juliette had gone into town to hire musicians for dancing in the latter part of the evening.
Bianca sat next to her, polishing the silver. Adrianna stared at her sister. She’d been wiping the same fork for the last ten minutes. “It’s got quite the shine, you know. Might be time to move on.”
Bianca’s eyes widened as she set the fork down and moved onto another. “This evening has me so distracted. Sorry.”
Adrianna gave her sister a small wink. “Don’t trouble yourself. I’m just teasing. But do tell, who has you discombobulated?”
Bianca sighed looking down at her fork. “Lord Craven.”
She swallowed down a yelp as her hands came to her chest. “Him?” Adrianna blinked as she studied her sister. She’d thought for certain that Bianca would have said Lord Dashlane.
Bianca began to rub the polish into the fork. “It’s not like that. He’s so dark and craggy and he stares at me and I don’t know why. I’m not sure how I feel about an entire evening with him.”
“Ah,” Adrianna said as she set her own spoon down. “He doesn’t strike me as cruel so my guess is, he fancies you. But proceed with caution.”
Bianca shrugged, her chin tucking down into her chest. “I hardly even look at him. I can’t. It makes my insides…” Her sister trailed off, but Adrianna’s brow lifted. This was beginning to sound serious.
“What does it make your insides do?”
Bianca shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll do as you say. I’ll avoid him.”
“Just don’t turn your attention to Lord Dashlane. Juliet has her sights set on that one.” Adrianna grinned. “And you know how competitive she can be when she wants something.”
Bianca sighed. “Yes, I do. It’s a good thing she loves us and uses her schemes to mostly help us.”
“Was she helping yesterday when she sent us after her cat?”
Bianca nodded. “Oh, most definitely. At least she tried to help you.”
Adrianna stopped. She supposed her sister had gotten her and Luke alone. She looked at her lap. “Lord Crestwood went to Papa’s office this morning to have a private conversation.”
Silverware tinkled as Bianca gasped. “No. Really? Did he ask for your hand? Is he going to propose?”
“I don’t know.” She rested her elbow on her knee, tucking her fist under her chin. “I hope so. Sometimes I think so and then other times…”
Bianca reached for her hand. “These men, they’re more complicated than we’re used to.”
Adrianna frowned. “Do you think complicated is good or bad?”
“I’m not certain.” Bianca let go and picked up her fork, starting to polish again. “When Papa would read us Shakespeare it would begin with, ‘this is a comedy or a tragedy,’ and then you’d know. The end is going to be happy or sad. But right now…” Bianca paused. “Just don’t allow him too many liberties until you know for certain.”
Adrianna winced as she thought back to their time on the beach. He’d stopped short of taking her maidenhead, which she was grateful for, but she wasn’t certain she’d have refused to go further with him if the choice had been hers.
They continued polishing in silence, Adrianna’s stomach fluttering with nerves. Bianca’s comment about this story being a comedy or a tragedy ringing in her ears. Did her infatuation with Lord Crestwood have a happy ending?
She shook her head. Did she want it to?
He made her breathless and filled her with desire. But he was also the one man she shouldn’t want. But she did. And she thought, when they talked, that he might want her too.
She realized she was the one who’d polished the same spoon for several minutes. Carefully setting the utensil aside, she picked up another. Tonight, one way or the other, she had to come to a conclusion with Luke.