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Authors: Autumn Rose
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mother.”
“Yes?”
“The truth is, I am engaged to be married.”
“So I understand,” Sam replied. “I was surprised it was not the Burrows chit.”
Jeremy was more flustered by this calm response than he would have been by the expected protest.
“No, no. Why ever would you think of her? She is a charming girl, but not my sort at all.”
“You have been quite attentive to her lately.”
“Why, yes, but out of nothing more than friendship. She cannot compare with Miranda.”
“Ah, yes. This Miss Dillon. However did you meet her?”
“I always stop for an ale when I am coming back into town from the north. I did a few months ago, and saw a most heroic act: Miss Dillon pushing a little boy out of the path of a racing curricle. She risked her own life. As it was, she was brushed by the wheels and quite shaken by the whole thing. I ran out and supported her back to the inn, where I made sure she was all right before I walked her home. Her mother was most grateful and invited me back for tea. I liked her so much, Miranda, that is…well, I like her mother too…” Jeremy, who had started out calmly, was, as he approached the climax of his story, beginning to be nervous. “Well, I have been visiting regularly, we became great friends, and then, in one moment, it seemed, we realized we loved one another.”
“And Miss Dillon agreed to this secret betrothal?”
“I know it sounds improper, Sam, but neither of us wanted the world to intrude upon such new feelings. Yet, since we knew they were lasting, we wished to make a commitment to one another.”
“And what of your mother? Your position as earl? Who is Miss Dillon, aside from her bravery?”
“Her mother is an authoress. She supports them both by writing novels. Popular ones, I’m afraid,” Jeremy said with a smile. “Miss Dillon has been educated by her mother. They are both widely read and I am sure you will love their conversations as much as I do.”
“And when you told your mother?”
“She was quite shocked, of course, since she expected me to play the field for a few years and then settle down with some society miss. But I know when she meets Miranda she will love her. And I know I can count on you, Sam, to help her over her disappointment.”
The viscount was touched by this evidence of Jeremy’s trust in him, and surprised the boy thought he was so unconventional as to countenance a bad match. He was even a bit ashamed of himself, for he and his godson had spent many an evening discussing the issues of the day, and Sam had only himself to blame if Jeremy had developed a libertarian perspective. But that he expected it to extend to domestic matters surprised the viscount. No matter what one’s political leanings, one followed society’s dictates. As a matter of the nobility, it was expected that one marry within one’s class.
“Jeremy, do you think your mother unreasonable to be disappointed and upset?” queried the viscount.
Jeremy stood and started pacing in front of the window. He turned to Sam and said earnestly: “Had I not met Miranda, I believe I would understand, Sam. I expected to wait a few years, to marry the usual way, and do my duty to the family. Not because I am at heart convinced of the rightness of that course; merely because it is what one does . Having met Miranda, however, and having fallen deeply in love with her, I feel like someone who has been saved from hurling himself over a cliff along with all the other sheep headed in the same direction.”
Jeremy turned to face the viscount, and Sam looked at him closely for the first time since he had arrived. The boy combined the best of his mother and father, in appearance and character. He had the striking blondness of Lavinia, made even more striking because he had his father’s brown eyes and the strength and intelligence of the late earl. His face had lost its adolescent downiness, and for a twenty-year-old, was surprisingly mature. But the passion was a
“Yes?”
“The truth is, I am engaged to be married.”
“So I understand,” Sam replied. “I was surprised it was not the Burrows chit.”
Jeremy was more flustered by this calm response than he would have been by the expected protest.
“No, no. Why ever would you think of her? She is a charming girl, but not my sort at all.”
“You have been quite attentive to her lately.”
“Why, yes, but out of nothing more than friendship. She cannot compare with Miranda.”
“Ah, yes. This Miss Dillon. However did you meet her?”
“I always stop for an ale when I am coming back into town from the north. I did a few months ago, and saw a most heroic act: Miss Dillon pushing a little boy out of the path of a racing curricle. She risked her own life. As it was, she was brushed by the wheels and quite shaken by the whole thing. I ran out and supported her back to the inn, where I made sure she was all right before I walked her home. Her mother was most grateful and invited me back for tea. I liked her so much, Miranda, that is…well, I like her mother too…” Jeremy, who had started out calmly, was, as he approached the climax of his story, beginning to be nervous. “Well, I have been visiting regularly, we became great friends, and then, in one moment, it seemed, we realized we loved one another.”
“And Miss Dillon agreed to this secret betrothal?”
“I know it sounds improper, Sam, but neither of us wanted the world to intrude upon such new feelings. Yet, since we knew they were lasting, we wished to make a commitment to one another.”
“And what of your mother? Your position as earl? Who is Miss Dillon, aside from her bravery?”
“Her mother is an authoress. She supports them both by writing novels. Popular ones, I’m afraid,” Jeremy said with a smile. “Miss Dillon has been educated by her mother. They are both widely read and I am sure you will love their conversations as much as I do.”
“And when you told your mother?”
“She was quite shocked, of course, since she expected me to play the field for a few years and then settle down with some society miss. But I know when she meets Miranda she will love her. And I know I can count on you, Sam, to help her over her disappointment.”
The viscount was touched by this evidence of Jeremy’s trust in him, and surprised the boy thought he was so unconventional as to countenance a bad match. He was even a bit ashamed of himself, for he and his godson had spent many an evening discussing the issues of the day, and Sam had only himself to blame if Jeremy had developed a libertarian perspective. But that he expected it to extend to domestic matters surprised the viscount. No matter what one’s political leanings, one followed society’s dictates. As a matter of the nobility, it was expected that one marry within one’s class.
“Jeremy, do you think your mother unreasonable to be disappointed and upset?” queried the viscount.
Jeremy stood and started pacing in front of the window. He turned to Sam and said earnestly: “Had I not met Miranda, I believe I would understand, Sam. I expected to wait a few years, to marry the usual way, and do my duty to the family. Not because I am at heart convinced of the rightness of that course; merely because it is what one does . Having met Miranda, however, and having fallen deeply in love with her, I feel like someone who has been saved from hurling himself over a cliff along with all the other sheep headed in the same direction.”
Jeremy turned to face the viscount, and Sam looked at him closely for the first time since he had arrived. The boy combined the best of his mother and father, in appearance and character. He had the striking blondness of Lavinia, made even more striking because he had his father’s brown eyes and the strength and intelligence of the late earl. His face had lost its adolescent downiness, and for a twenty-year-old, was surprisingly mature. But the passion was a
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