But not only had he been resistant; he’d outright refused. And he still refused. He would not lower his expectations when it came to marriage, regardless of the fact that his long-lost heir presumptive had been transported halfway across the globe for crimes committed.
He placed a fist on the pane of glass at the window and rested his forehead against it. He couldn’t, in all conscience, allow someone with a criminal record to become the sixth Duke of Aylesham. But there’d been those dangerously close calls and that deadly bout of pneumonia . . .
George couldn’t imagine a worse possible scenario at the moment than the one he was facing: marry or else.
Heaven help him.
***
It was a long two-day journey from Lincolnshire to London, and Susan could feel her anxiety increasing with every mile. She’d hugged a brave Rebecca, who’d been fighting back tears and smiling and wishing her well and reminding her to write often. She’d kissed Mama on the cheek; she’d hugged Papa, who had tucked a few pound notes into her hand, and then she and James had set off, waving through the coach windows as the rest of the family had waved back and their nieces and nephews had shouted their farewells.
Two days, Susan was finding, was a great lot of time when one was traveling in a coach by oneself. Almost an eternity. James occasionally rode with her, but most of the time, he was on horseback, enjoying freedom from confinement inside the coach and the brotherly fear of having to converse at length with his sister. But on this particular rare occasion toward the end of the journey, he had braved the carriage and conversation to be with her, for which she was grateful.
“Tell me more about Lady Walmsley,” James said when he’d joined her in the carriage.
Susan had deliberately fought her anxiety and had mostly succeeded, but it all came rushing back with James’s mention of Lady Walmsley. “She is an elderly lady, a widow, and was recently discovered to be Lady Halford’s great-aunt, as you know. She’s short, with a fluff of gray hair and twinkling blue eyes that make her seem rather fairylike and delightful. I met her last summer at Lord and Lady Cantwell’s wedding. I spoke with her only briefly though, you know, so I’m as surprised as anyone that Rebecca and I received the invitation to spend the Season with her.
“I’ll be frank, James. I don’t know what to expect. It would have been easier with Rebecca here beside me. How long will you be in London?” she said.
“A week at least—perhaps more,” he said. “I have work here in Town. Depending upon how that goes will determine my plans. In the meantime, I promise to escort you and this Lady Walmsley, whom I have yet to meet, to your various balls and routs and such.”
“Thank you, James,” Susan said. “Having you here for the first week, when everything is new and somewhat awkward, is reassuring. I don’t think I could have agreed to come here without Rebecca otherwise.”
“Now, that I don’t believe,” James said. “My sister Susan? The one who has never looked a challenge in the eye and not dared it to do its worst? The one who ably set every unworthy suitor back on his heels during her come-out? The one—”
“You may stop now—”
“Who insisted on studying with her brothers when they were tutored and always bested them in every subject?” he continued, ignoring her.
“Except you. I rarely bested you. But I take your point. Since I have faced such daunting challenges in the past and survived to speak of them, I supposed I can take on an elderly woman who looks like a forest pixie.”
“Perhaps she will turn out to be your fairy godmother.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, James.”
He laughed and then glanced out the carriage window. “We’re nearly to Mayfair; I hadn’t realized. Time does fly when one is deep in conversation.”
Time had truly flown more swiftly with James keeping Susan company. Now she must face what the next few months would entail. Her heart was beating much faster than her pride wished it were.
“I think I see your pixie now,” James said.
And he was right. Lady Walmsley was standing on the front doorstep of her townhouse, waving at their coach with her handkerchief in welcome.
Susan straightened in her seat, willed her heart to slow, and took a deep breath when the coach stopped. The coachman opened the door, and James stepped out and offered his hand to Susan.
“Here you are at last!” Lady Walmsley exclaimed, hurrying toward them as Susan exited the carriage. “I have been looking forward to this; what a joy to have young ladies here to join me and brighten the entire household!” She smiled in greeting at them, her eyes searching the inside of the coach at the same time. “But where is this young Rebecca I’ve heard so much about?”
“Hello, Lady Walmsley,” Susan said. “May I introduce my brother, the Honorable Mister James Jennings, Esquire.”
“Lady Walmsley,” James said, bowing his head in deference.
“I have sad news, I’m afraid,” Susan continued. “Rebecca is not able to be with us after all. She had the misfortune of breaking her leg three days ago and couldn’t make the journey as planned. I am, as you see, your only guest.”
Lady Walmsley’s countenance fell. “I’m so sorry to hear about your sister.” But then she brightened. “We shall do all we can to enjoy ourselves and send her letters and drawings, shall we? Perhaps it will lift her spirits and help her leg heal more quickly.”
James looked over Lady Walmsley’s head at Susan. “Fairy godmother,” he mouthed.
“You both must be tired and hungry after your travels,” Lady Walmsley said. “I have told Foster to have tea set up in the parlor.” She waved her handkerchief at them, actually shooing them toward the front door. “Come. Tea awaits. The servants will see to your coachmen.”
“I didn’t intend to stay, Lady Walmsley. I have lodgings elsewhere,” James said.
“I know that, young man,” Lady Walmsley said, still shooing him toward the door. “But I daresay your men are as tired and hungry as the two of you after driving that coach all day. Foster will see they have some refreshment. Foster is a complete mother hen, even though he’s my butler and not my housekeeper. He thrives on taking care of people.” She actually looked a bit grumpy when she described him.
“Thank you, Lady Walmsley,” James said. “I am most appreciative.”
As they followed the dowager countess into her home, James grinned at Susan. “Fairy godmother,” he mouthed again, nodding his head in affirmation.
Susan discreetly swatted his arm and continued on into the house.
Chapter 3