Skylar swung his walking stick to and fro along the gravel path. “That is indeed a feat, if indeed improbable.”
“I could never consider such a thing of Papa! I know he was faithful to my mother,” she stated with finality.
“Well, for the sake of your memories, I hope you are right.” He smiled, a smile that had a hint of tenderness in it. “So, you see why I have retained my bachelorhood. Besides, I had an elder brother to fulfill the duties of heir. He, alas, died childless.”
Gillian turned to her new pet, tiring of the topic of marriage and fidelity. “What shall we name her?” she asked with a tug on the leash.
“We?”
“Well, you are part owner, you know.”
“I haven’t the foggiest. I’ll allow you the honor.”
Suddenly the animal in question spied a squirrel scampering up a thick trunk. She dashed toward it, yanking the leash out of Gillian’s hands.
“Heel!” Lord Skylar’s sharp command brought the dog to an immediate halt, though she whined in protest, her nose sniffing forward. Sky picked up the leash.
“Good girl,” he told the dog, bending down to pet her and offering her a biscuit from his pocket. He then rose and took over the leash. The dog strained toward the tree where she’d spied the squirrel. It was no longer in sight.
“I’m sorry, dear,” Gillian spoke to her pet. “But you’ll never catch it now. It’s gone up the tree,” she explained, petting the animal’s neck.
They resumed their walk. “You’d do best to train her early. Keep a firm hand on her and reward her when she obeys,” Lord Skylar advised.
He gave her a wry look. “You’ll probably mother her to death, indulge her every whim, and end up with a spoiled, ill-behaved mutt on your hands.”
She merely laughed at him. She was beginning to suspect he had a rather tender heart behind that detached demeanor. Perhaps he wouldn’t make such an awful husband.
Tertius walked along the streets of Mayfair after he’d escorted Gillian and her new pet back home. The day was a splendid summer one. He passed the shops on Bond Street. The sidewalks were filled with shoppers. He stopped to glance in at a window or two, but his mind was distracted. He kept thinking of his impending marriage. It no longer seemed a burdensome task.
In less than a fortnight he’d gone from outrage at his father’s preposterous announcement that Tertius must not only marry posthaste but that the bride was already picked out, to a sense of anticipation at his forthcoming nuptials.
The chit was getting to him, he realized, looking at the latest satirical prints in Ackermann’s bow window. He continued his walk, wondering when this shift had occurred. His mind kept going to the afternoon of their outing, her smudged face turned up to him in entreaty, seeking his help and protection for a poor, starved creature.
He shook his head, still finding it hard to believe how easily she had bent him to her wishes.
Or had his feelings begun to change even earlier in the day, when she’d looked down at her plate in the tea garden and shyly told him how much she wanted a home and children of her own?
He tried to rationalize his feelings. It was reasonable to expect him to be married at his age, with his new position. Lady Gillian was not only a very appealing young lady, but she fulfilled all the requisites of wealth and lineage to be joined to the Caulfield line.
If the amiability between the two of them continued to grow, there should be no reason for their marriage not to succeed.
Another inner voice warned him that undoubtedly his parents’ marriage had started out this way. At one time they must have had a regard for each other. He knew his mother had loved his father until the marquess had destroyed that love with his repeated infidelities.
Tertius turned left onto Piccadilly, telling himself it was too pleasant a day for such pessimistic thoughts. He reached Sackville Street and headed for Gray’s, where his family was accustomed to buying their jewelry.
He looked at various pieces until finding what he wanted.
Yes, the emerald pendant and earrings would look lovely against Lady Gillian’s pale skin. He also chose a set of wedding bands, telling the jeweler the bride would be in later for a fitting. At the last minute, a gold ring mounted with a diamond and ruby caught his eye. He purchased it as well.
Telling the jeweler to have the other things delivered later, he tucked the jeweler’s box with the ruby and diamond ring into a pocket and left the store. He would present the ring to Lady Gillian at the Regent’s fete.
A feeling of pride filled him as he thought of the ring gracing her slim hand.
Chapter Four
T ertius picked Gillian up in his curricle the next afternoon and took her to Tattersall’s at Hyde Park Corner.
A large crowd was congregated around the tall column at the entrance of the brick building.
“Oh, it must be the day of settling racing bets,” Gillian exclaimed. She hadn’t been here since her father had died. He’d taken her along whenever he’d won a race. She looked up the column at the statue of the fox atop it and remembered the excitement of those days.
Tertius commented, “Maybe the crowds will stay out here and give us a chance to look at the horses inside in some modicum of peace.”
He gave the reins to his tiger with instructions to tool around the park for about an hour and handed down Gillian. They walked into the courtyard of the three-story building that boasted the best horse auction in London.
“I should think your father’s stables already contain the best cattle in town,” Gillian said as they eyed the horses being paraded on the stone and gravel walkways in the courtyard.
“He has a fine stable,” he conceded. “So did Edmund.”
“But you want your own animal.” She looked at him in understanding as she petted the neck of a fine bay. He felt gratified that he didn’t have to explain to her. “Here in town Mother lets me take out my small phaeton hitched to a pair of ponies. Occasionally, I ride my mare in the park with my groom.”
“We should have ample opportunity for riding once we leave London,” he promised her.
“Will that be soon…after the…wedding?” Her voice faltered, and he realized the idea of being married to him was still daunting to her.
“Actually, it would be nice to tour some of the estates before the wedding—for the hunting season. You and your mother—and Templeton—” he grinned “—could be my guests.”
She smiled in relief. “That would be delightful. Where are your family’s estates?”
“Oh, the main one is in Hertfordshire—a monstrous thing. There’s another up near Leicester, another down in Dorset and there’s even a very gothic property way up in the West Riding in Yorkshire. I haven’t been there since I was a child. I daresay we shall have to visit them all once we’re married.
