MARCUS, LORD RUSSELL, slumped in a chair indolently paring his nails while his former school chum, now personal secretary, attended to his correspondence.
“You’ve a letter from Cotesfield Hall,” said Mr. Nicholas Needham.
“Do I?” Lord Russell answered in a bored drawl, but then furrowed his brows in a fleeting frown. “I must say it’s been a very protracted interval since I heard from Miss Trent, but if she’s learned of my return to London, she’ll no doubt be importuning me to set a date. Will you fob her off for a while longer, Needham? Just use the stock excuse.”
Nicholas rolled his eyes heavenward and answered by rote, “That to your everlasting and abject dismay, urgent business of State must take precedence over any private matters, regardless of your personal inclinations, etcetera and etcetera.”
Marcus smirked. “Couldn’t have said it better myself. That’s one of the chief perquisites of the Foreign Service, Needham; it gives one a valid excuse to ignore all domestic responsibilities, or at least to put them off until a more convenient time.”
“But what if she’s already aware of your return? It has been well over a month now.”
“You’re right, Nick. No doubt she’s already got wind of it from Mother.” Marcus gave a resigned groan. “I suppose there’s no avoiding her this time.”
If given a choice, he’d have postponed the reunion indefinitely. He’d not seen Lydia for six years—not that he’d had any burning desire to do so. When Marcus had departed for the Foreign Service on the heels of their engagement, she was still far too young to wed. Although he had left with every intention of honoring his troth within two or three years, three had turned to four, and four became five. His string of paramours in this interim only compounded his guilt until it became easier not to think of Lydia at all. Now, the idea of facing her again as a husband-to-be seemed altogether impossible.
“What does she write?” Marcus asked, his impatience growing with his agitation.
Nicholas broke the seal and scanned the contents. He looked up at Marcus with a chuckle. “Why, it appears you may get your wish for perpetual bachelorhood after all. She wants to end your engagement.”
Marcus started from his chair. “The hell she does! What’s possessed her?”
“Perhaps she realizes your extreme reluctance to tie the knot after waiting…what is it? Five years since your betrothal announcement?”
“Six,” Marcus snapped. “But who’s counting.”
“Perhaps Miss Trent?” Nick needled with a quirk of his lips.
Lord Russell squelched his secretary with a darkling look. “Read it to me, Nick.”
“By all means.” Nicholas cleared his throat. “‘My Dear Lord Russell, I pray this finds you in good health.’” Nick paused. “I say, my lord, that’s quite a moving salutation from your beloved.”
“Enough of the commentary,” Marcus growled. “Just read the damned thing!”
“‘I was indeed in expectation of your answer after sending our melancholy news six months hence, but I quite understand the unreliability of foreign mail service and am thankful that my last letter found you safely, given your extensive foreign travels.’”
“You see, Needham? The caprice of foreign mail. It’s an excuse that works every time.”
Nicholas looked up from the page. “Indeed? Yet, I almost detect a hint of skepticism in her words.”
Recalling her adoration, Lord Russell’s lips curved into a smug half-smile. “From Lydia? Don’t be absurd.”
“Nevertheless, she’ll surely expect a prompt reply this time, given our own English mail suffers no such erratic service. Shall I continue?” Nick asked.
Lord Russell nodded, abandoning all of his prior affectation. “Go on then. What else does she say?” He tilted his head in a more active listening posture as Nicholas read.
As you must know, we have had both full hands and heavy hearts here at Cotesfield Hall following dear Papa’s unanticipated demise. Although he had wished to see you and I settled before his passing, as I am yet unmarried, the estate will now fall to Cousin James, whose wife seems somewhat eager to see me settled…elsewhere.
I must also confess to the same desire, but given your continued reticence to set a firm date for our nuptials, I am confident you will have no reservations regarding my respectful appeal to release me from our marriage contract.
I look forward to your reply and am…
Sincerely yours,
Miss Lydia Albinia Trent
Nicholas dropped the letter into Marcus’ lap. “Succinctly written, and she hardly appears to have spent any tears over it,” he drawled.
“Damn the impudence of the chit!”