“No, he is a gentleman.”
“Well, that is one blessing.” She waved her handkerchief at Louisa. “Still, you mustn’t let anyone know you went to see him, including Emma. If Lady Bolton ever discovered this, she might force her son to break their engagement. Think of the scandal then! After your refusal to marry Blakely and Emerson, a rejection by Bolton would be the end of us all.”
All her mother ever cared about was getting her daughters married with no scandals attached to their name—no easy task when Mamma held the one secret that would scandalize everyone.
Her mother went to the door and called a sulking Emma back into the room.
“How is Tessa feeling?” Louisa asked as the footman brought tea in for them.
“She is now past the dreadful morning sickness,” Emma said before falling into a chair. “I do not think I would like to be with child.”
Her mother shook her head. “If you wish to marry, Emma, you should get used to the idea of childbearing. Your betrothed is a viscount and will expect an heir and a spare.”
Emma sipped her tea and then asked, “Did you really go to Scotland?”
Louisa slid a glance over at her mother, who sent her a warning look. “Yes, I did. I thought Aunt Greyson might help me find a suitable husband.”
Emma laughed. “Aunt Greyson can barely see or hear any longer. How could she help?”
“She has always had the respect of the ton.” Louisa hated lying to her sister. “I thought she might have some words of advice.”
“Did she?” Emma asked.
“No.” She might have been better off paying a call on her aunt than visiting the reclusive duke. But she needed to change the subject before she confessed everything to her sister. “How are the wedding plans going?”
“Slowly. Bolton insists his mother must agree to a date. Lady Bolton has yet to give any response.”
Louisa tilted her head and stared at her younger sister. “She must be trying to determine the best date for the maximum number of people to attend.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
Louisa hoped Emma was right, and the reason wasn’t due to Lady Bolton hoping Emma would call off the wedding. Louisa had never like Lady Bolton. The viscountess always seemed a bit too concerned with Society and keeping her family name impeccable. Louisa wondered if the viscountess had even been aware of her son’s decision to offer for Emma until it was too late. Louisa rather doubted Lady Bolton would have approved the engagement.
A FORTNIGHT HAD PASSED since Louisa left Northwood Park and still, all Harry could think of was her. She never seemed to leave his mind. If he wasn’t thinking of her, then Charlotte was asking about her. Or worse, he dreamed of her. Erotic dreams that left him hard and unsatisfied.
This had to stop. Somehow, he had to find a way of eliminating her from his thoughts.
He stared down at the ledger on his desk, not seeing the digits in front of him. His steward spoke of the number of lambs predicted this spring, but Harry could only wonder what Louisa would think. Would she agree with Mr. Leeds or believe his estimate inaccurate? Would she recommend something different?
“In conclusion, Your Grace, I do believe we should continue to increase our production of rye.”
“Yes, of course.” When had Leeds started discussing rye?
Mr. Leeds rose and stared down at the ledger. “Your Grace, if I may, are you well?
Hardly. “Just distracted today. I apologize.”
Mr. Leeds shook his almost bald head. “I understand, sir. You have much to worry over with your estates. Will you go to town this year?”
“I have not decided yet,” Harry lied. He couldn’t return to town and face those dreadful people.
“Very good, Your Grace. Would you like me to leave the ledgers for you to review?”
Harry pushed the leather-bou
nd book across the desk. “No, I have looked at the numbers and everything seems to be in order.”
“Good afternoon, then.” Leeds bowed and departed for his home.