Still, it was not the first time Algernon had managed such a thing, and Hunter, on this particular occasion, was not inclined to quiz him on it, not even for the undoubtedly humorous conversation that would likely follow.
“I say, you do look awfully glum,” Algernon said as he strode into the room. “What say we pull the bell rope for tea and enjoy the look on your butler’s face when he realizes that I have outwitted him once again?” Algernon laughed, and it was a laugh that Hunter recognized.
Algernon had already perceived that his cousin would be in a most unusual mood following the death of the man he had seen as his rival. The man who had stolen away the love of his life.
“If you wish for tea, Algernon, by all means, ring for it. If not, then help yourself to some sherry and pour me a glass whilst you are there.”
“Goodness me; a man is to serve himself in your household, Lord Addison.” Algernon laughed and smiled at him warmly. “But I shall pour the sherry as you direct and ask you what it is that ails you, my dear cousin.”
“You are right, of course, and I shall not insult your intelligence by pretending otherwise. I am out of sorts and shall apologize in advance for the poor company that I am about to provide you. And I understand, naturally, if you would wish to leave me to my low mood for a while.”
“I shall do no such thing, Hunter,” Algernon said forcefully. “In truth, I had wanted to come sooner, but I thought it would be prudent to allow you some time to dwell on matters as you saw fit. But I could not sit at Braithwaite House any longer wondering; I simply had to come.”
“You are about to speak of Felicity, I can tell.”
“Yes, indeed I am.” Algernon smiled sadly. “And how can I not when I saw the two of you together in such deep and lengthy conversation at the end of the funeral?”
“And you should like to know, I have no doubt, what passed between us?”
“Not the details, my dear fellow, but perhaps just a general impression.” Hunter shrugged. “It is not curiosity on my part, you must understand. It is nothing but the deepest of concern, for I should not like to see you manipulated.”
“Manipulated?” Hunter said slowly and then nodded, immediately perceiving the veracity of the word. “Yes, I have no doubt that an attempt was made to manipulate me.”
“She asked you to consider her, did she not?”
“Indeed, she did,” Hunter said and stared across the drawing room as he remembered her beautiful face through the thin, black veil.
“Hunter so much has passed between the two of us that I had hardly thought you would come here today to support me in my grief.” The moment Emmeline had turned to walk away, Felicity had begged a few moments with him.
When he consented, she began to talk quickly as if she had much to say and limited time in which to say it.
“I should, of course, attend the funeral of any Duke. He was a part of the county and, as the Earl of Addison it is incumbent upon me to be here today.”
“But surely that is not your only reason? For heaven’s sake, please tell me that you think of me if only a little,” she said, and he saw tears begin to well in her eyes.
“How curious it is that you choose now to cry, Felicity.”
“What do you mean?” she said, her bright blue eyes never leaving his for a moment.
“You did not shed a tear at your husband’s graveside, Felicity. And it is clear now that you have not shed a tear from the moment of his passing. You look as if the man’s death has meant nothing to you at all.”
“One does not choose to cry, Hunter. Tears come when there is a genuine reason for them. And you are right; I do not mourn the loss of my husband as I ought to, but I would think that you would not care for me to lie to you.”
“Why not? After all, it would not be the first time that you had lied. I can hardly see why such a thing would make a difference to me now.”
“Hunter, please, do not be so angry. Do not bear such a deep and abiding grudge towards me; I cannot bear it.”
“But surely you can understand it, my dear?” Hunter had heard the ice in his own voice, but it did not trouble him for a moment.
He was not further upsetting a woman in mourning, for he knew most clearly that she was not in mourning at all. Her husband’s death had caused barely a ripple on the still waters of her emotions and, despite his very low feeling for the Duke, Hunter found himself feeling curiously sorry for the man.
“You must understand, Hunter, that I had felt abandoned by you all those months ago. There was no telling when you would return home, and it seemed to me as if I had become of lesser importance in your heart.”
“You had not become of lesser importance to me, Felicity. If only your vanity could have seen it.”
“My vanity?” she said a little loudly, drawing a harsh glance from the reverend who was silently making his way back towards the church.
“Can you not comprehend your own heart in all of this? Can you not see that there are others in this world besides yourself? My father was dying, Felicity. A good man was dying, being laid waste and in great pain. All he wanted was to be taken back to a place he knew and loved, a place that reminded him of his younger years and the time before responsibility had settled itself down on his shoulders. And all I wanted, Felicity, was to be the son he wanted me to be. What I wanted was to be the man who would make his final days exactly what he wanted them to be.”
“Which is understandable, Hunter, and commendable, but …”
“Commendable?” Hunter shook his head angrily. “I did not do it out of a sense of duty, Felicity. I did it out of the deepest love for my father. That you could not even wait for me to return, that you could not contemplate for one moment the pain and suffering of both my father and myself, astounds me.”
“Hunter, please do not be angry with me. You know I do not like to be spoken to harshly. You know how it upsets me.” Her eyes filled with tears again, and this time they fell in a flurry. She bowed her head and, for an awful moment, he thought he would relent.
Hunter thought he would give in, even take her into his arms for the sake of nothing more than familiarity. But the moment he thought of it, he thought of Emmeline. He thought of her sitting in the carriage silently with her mother, the two of them looking out of the window. Of course, he realized that Emmeline did not feel for him what he had come to feel for her, but still, he could not have borne the idea of insulting her, even humiliating her, if her feelings would stretch that far.