Thank you for your continued support. I appreciate it.
I do not own Merlin or the characters, neither do I own Cold Hearted Rake.
Just one more chapter after this.
Dear Gwen,
I have just returned from the Luton's farm, after inquiring about the welfare of their newest resident. Please convey to all concerned parties, that Hamlet is thoroughly content with his pen, which, I might add, has been constructed to the highest porcine standards. He seems enthused about keeping company with his own harem of sows. I would venture to say, that a pig of simple pleasures, could ask for nothing more.
All other news from the estate pertains to drainage trenches and plumbing mishaps...none of it agreeable to relate.
However, I am anxious to know how you are taking the engagement between Cassandra and Harcourt. In the spirit of brotherly concern, I beg you to write soon, at least to tell me, if murder is being planned.
Affectionately yours,
Will
Gwen took up a pen to reply, reflecting that she missed Will more than she would have guessed. It was quite strange to think, that the drunken young rake who had come to the Priory all those months ago, would've become such a steadying presence in her life.
Dear Will,
Upon Mr. Harcourt's proposal to Cassandra last week, I will confess to initial thoughts of homicide. However, I realized, that if I did away with Harcourt, I would also have to dispatch your brother, and that wouldn't do. One murder may be justifiable in these circumstances, but two would be self-indulgent.
Cassandra is quiet and withdrawn, which is not what one expects of a girl who has just become engaged. It is obvious that she loathes the engagement ring, but she refuses to ask Harcourt to change it. Yesterday, he decided to undertake all the planning and expenses of the wedding, so she'll have no say in that either.
He dominates without even seeming to be aware of it. He's like a great tree that casts a shade, in which smaller trees can't thrive.
Regardless, the wedding seems inevitable.
I'm resigned to the situation. At least, I'm trying to be.
Your brotherly concern is much appreciated, and returned with sisterly affection.
Ever yours,
Gwen
Arthur returned home late in the evening, filled with weary satisfaction.
The lease agreement with London Ironstone had been signed by both parties.
During the past week, Thomas Hill had turned the negotiations into a cat-and-mouse game. It had required inhuman discipline and a surplus of energy to contend with his accelerations, delays, surprises, and amendments.
At several points, the lawyers had fallen silent, while the two of them feuded and sparred.
Then finally, Arthur had been able to force the concessions he'd wanted, just as he had found himself considering the prospect of leaping across the table and strangling the man.
The infuriating part had been knowing, that Hill, unlike anyone else in the room, had been having a perfectly splendid time.
Hill loved excitement, conflict, and anything to entertain his voracious brain.
Although people were drawn to him and he was invited everywhere, it was difficult to tolerate his feverish energy for long.
Spending time with him, was like attending a fireworks display...enjoyable for a short time, but fatiguing if it lasted for too long.
After the butler took his coat, hat, and gloves, Arthur headed to the study for a much-needed drink.
As he passed the stairs, he could hear traces of laughter and conversation from the upstairs drawing room, while the music box played a glimmering cascade of notes.
The study was lit by a single table lamp and a fire on the hearth.
And spying Gwen's small form curled in the upholstered wing chair, her fingers forming slack loops around the stem of an empty wineglass, sent a pang of pleasure through him.
She was wearing the colorful shawl he'd given her, as she stared pensively into the fire, its flickers of light gilding the delicate line of her profile.
He'd had no time alone with her since Cassandra and Harcourt had become engaged.
She had been quiet and disinclined to talk, obviously struggling with her unhappiness over the situation. Moreover, during the past week, the deal with London Ironstone had consumed his attention.
It was too important for the estate. He hadn't been able to risk failure. And now that the deal was signed, he intended to set his house in order.
As he entered the room, Gwen looked up with a neutral expression.
"My Lord. How did your meeting go?"
"The lease is signed," Arthur said, going to pour a glass of wine for himself at the sideboard.
"Did he agree to your terms?" she asked.
"The most important ones."
"Congratulations," she said sincerely. "I had no doubt that you would prevail."
Arthur smiled.
"Then, you had faith for the both of us. I had more than a few doubts. Hill is infinitely more experienced at business. However, I tried to compensate with pure stubbornness."
Gesturing with the wine decanter, he gave her a questioning glance.
"Thank you, but I've had enough." She nodded towards the desk in the corner. "A telegram arrived for you just before dinner. It's on the silver tray."
He went to retrieve it, opening the gummed seal.
Looking down at the message, he frowned curiously.
"It's from Will."
COME TO THE ESTATE WITHOUT DELAY
W.P.
"He wants me to come to Hampshire immediately," Arthur said, puzzled. "He doesn't say why."
Gwen glanced at him with instant worry.
"I hope it's not bad news."
"It's no more than middling-bad, or he would have included an explanation. I'll have to take the first train in the morning."
Setting her empty glass aside, Gwen stood and smoothed her skirts. She looked tired but lovely, a pucker of worry pinching the space between her brows.
She spoke without looking at him.
"My monthly courses started this morning. So there is no baby. I knew you would wish to learn of it as soon as possible."
Arthur contemplated her silently.
Strangely, the relief he had expected to feel wasn't there.
He should be falling to his knees in gratitude, but there was only a sort of blank ambivalence.
"Are you relieved?" he asked.
"Of course. I didn't want the baby any more than you did."
Something about her calm, reasonable tone rankled him.
He stepped towards her, and every line of her body tensed in wordless rejection.
"Guinevere," he began, "I'm weary of this distance between us. Whatever is necessary..."
"Please. Not now. Not tonight."
The only thing that stopped him from reaching for her and kissing her senseless, was the soft, raw note in her voice.
He closed his eyes briefly, grappling for patience. When that failed, he lifted his wineglass and finished the drink in three measured gulps.
"When I return," he said, leveling a steady stare at her, "You and I are going to have a long talk. Alone."
Her lips tightened at his severe tone.
"Am I to have a choice in the matter?"
"Yes. You'll have the choice of whether we go to bed before the talk, or after."
Letting out an indignant breath, Gwen left the study, while Arthur stood there gripping his empty glass, his gaze fixed on the vacant doorway.
Stay safe!