Read Online Wedding of the Season by Laura Lee Guhrke - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Laura Lee Guhrke
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friendship, and she was quite happy to leave passionate, desperate, agonizing love behind.
As I recall, you and I never needed torches to burn for each other.
She stirred restlessly on the sofa, feeling her cheeks heating as those words rekindled memories of midnight assignations in the garden, stolen kisses, and other things she hadn’t thought about in ages.
“What’s wrong, dearest?” Eugenia asked, her attention diverted from the photographs in her lap.
Well aware of her flushed face, Beatrix shoved thoughts of her first love out of her mind. That was in the past. She was moving toward the future, the future she’d always known she would have, the one her father had wanted for her, one that would carry on the traditions of her ancestors for another generation.
“Nothing, Auntie.” She put an arm around Eugenia’s shoulders and reached over to turn the page. “Show me more of these pictures.”
W ill had vowed to see Paul as quickly as possible, but he was forced to wait. The morning after his encounter with Beatrix, Geoff came by Sunderland Park, and during that visit, he mentioned that his older brother had gone to Exeter on a matter of business and would not return for three days.
Though impatient for the meeting, Will benefited from the delay. He was able to conduct other business, surveying Sunderland Park with his land agent and ordering necessary repairs. Aman’s liniment did its work, and though he had a fist-size bruise just above his knee, the pain eased. Most beneficial of all, he’d once again managed to push Beatrix into the past where she belonged. By the time he called at Danbury Downs, he felt fully prepared to discuss the situation with Paul without allowing either physical pain or resentment toward Paul’s cousin to affect his demeanor.
He judged four o’clock to be the best time to see the other man, for that was an hour when the ladies were likely to be out paying calls on their friends, but Paul was likely to be at home. He chose not to make his call a formal one; instead, he went on horseback, cutting across the park and approaching the house from the back.
Though it was a cloudy afternoon, it wasn’t raining, and the French doors into the study had been flung back. As he came closer, Will recognized his friend framed in the open doorway, confirming that he had timed his visit correctly. Paul was seated at a desk, writing letters, but at the sound of Galahad’s hooves on the turf, he stopped writing and looked up.
“By Jove, it is you!” he cried, tossing down his quill and rising from the desk as Will dismounted and tied Galahad’s reins to the stone rail surrounding the terrace.
“I heard you were back,” Paul went on, coming through the French doors as Will ascended the steps toward him, “but until I saw you with my own eyes, I didn’t quite believe it.”
The two men met halfway, and Will held out his hand. “It’s good to see you, old friend.”
“And you,” Paul replied as they shook hands. “Care for a drink?” he asked, leading Will into the study. Given an affirmative answer, Paul poured whisky for both of them, then resumed his seat at his desk, gesturing Will to take the opposite chair. The initial greetings over, there was a rather awkward pause.
“Egypt seems to agree with you,” Paul finally said.
“Does it?” He gave the other man a rather rueful smile. “Trix said the opposite.”
“Did she?” There was another pause, then Paul gave a cough and spoke again. “Well, that’s to be expected, isn’t it? So, what’s brought you home after all this time?”
“Estate business, for one. Wrapping up Father’s affairs, that sort of thing. I’ve put it off far too long.”
“Ah.” His friend’s relief was immediately visible, leading him to conclude that Beatrix had been talking. Offering dire predictions about what sort of scene he intended to make at her wedding, no doubt.
He kept to the business at hand. “I do confess, however,
As I recall, you and I never needed torches to burn for each other.
She stirred restlessly on the sofa, feeling her cheeks heating as those words rekindled memories of midnight assignations in the garden, stolen kisses, and other things she hadn’t thought about in ages.
“What’s wrong, dearest?” Eugenia asked, her attention diverted from the photographs in her lap.
Well aware of her flushed face, Beatrix shoved thoughts of her first love out of her mind. That was in the past. She was moving toward the future, the future she’d always known she would have, the one her father had wanted for her, one that would carry on the traditions of her ancestors for another generation.
“Nothing, Auntie.” She put an arm around Eugenia’s shoulders and reached over to turn the page. “Show me more of these pictures.”
W ill had vowed to see Paul as quickly as possible, but he was forced to wait. The morning after his encounter with Beatrix, Geoff came by Sunderland Park, and during that visit, he mentioned that his older brother had gone to Exeter on a matter of business and would not return for three days.
Though impatient for the meeting, Will benefited from the delay. He was able to conduct other business, surveying Sunderland Park with his land agent and ordering necessary repairs. Aman’s liniment did its work, and though he had a fist-size bruise just above his knee, the pain eased. Most beneficial of all, he’d once again managed to push Beatrix into the past where she belonged. By the time he called at Danbury Downs, he felt fully prepared to discuss the situation with Paul without allowing either physical pain or resentment toward Paul’s cousin to affect his demeanor.
He judged four o’clock to be the best time to see the other man, for that was an hour when the ladies were likely to be out paying calls on their friends, but Paul was likely to be at home. He chose not to make his call a formal one; instead, he went on horseback, cutting across the park and approaching the house from the back.
Though it was a cloudy afternoon, it wasn’t raining, and the French doors into the study had been flung back. As he came closer, Will recognized his friend framed in the open doorway, confirming that he had timed his visit correctly. Paul was seated at a desk, writing letters, but at the sound of Galahad’s hooves on the turf, he stopped writing and looked up.
“By Jove, it is you!” he cried, tossing down his quill and rising from the desk as Will dismounted and tied Galahad’s reins to the stone rail surrounding the terrace.
“I heard you were back,” Paul went on, coming through the French doors as Will ascended the steps toward him, “but until I saw you with my own eyes, I didn’t quite believe it.”
The two men met halfway, and Will held out his hand. “It’s good to see you, old friend.”
“And you,” Paul replied as they shook hands. “Care for a drink?” he asked, leading Will into the study. Given an affirmative answer, Paul poured whisky for both of them, then resumed his seat at his desk, gesturing Will to take the opposite chair. The initial greetings over, there was a rather awkward pause.
“Egypt seems to agree with you,” Paul finally said.
“Does it?” He gave the other man a rather rueful smile. “Trix said the opposite.”
“Did she?” There was another pause, then Paul gave a cough and spoke again. “Well, that’s to be expected, isn’t it? So, what’s brought you home after all this time?”
“Estate business, for one. Wrapping up Father’s affairs, that sort of thing. I’ve put it off far too long.”
“Ah.” His friend’s relief was immediately visible, leading him to conclude that Beatrix had been talking. Offering dire predictions about what sort of scene he intended to make at her wedding, no doubt.
He kept to the business at hand. “I do confess, however,
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