In Compromise with the Earl by Ava MacAdams
Chapter Three
“Whatever you wish to say to me today, I do not wish to hear it, Andrew.”
If the tall man heard a word that left Isaac Lennox’s mouth he made no note of it. The thin, handsome, older man ushered himself into the room with no preamble and set about preparing the tea on the table for his Duke. The steward whistled a happy little tune as he worked, something bright and chipper and not at all fitting with the overall air in the room. Isaac Lennox was not a bright and chipper man. He had no tolerance for frivolity and he stomached whistlers even less. The only saving grace that his steward, Andrew, could cling to was the umbrella of forgiveness afforded only to those who had been around Isaac his entire life.
A soft, fragrant aroma slowly permeated the room as the tea was prepared. A small two-tiered serving carousel laden with biscuits and sandwiches was prepared to stand as a substitute to the lunch that the Duke had taken to refusing.
“Well, Your Grace, if you insist on spending all of your time up here in your study, then I must bring the afternoon tea to you, must I not?”
“If you had any common sense, you would leave me be.” The Duke stoppered the ink pot he had been working with and pushed the piles of paper that had been in front of him away. He knew from experience that if he did not get this conversation over with, then the steward would be content to simply stand by the door in judgmental silence for the entirety of the afternoon. Stubborn fool that he was. “I could have you punished for such pesky insolence, you know.”
Andrew’s brow lifted as he smiled. “Certainly you can, Your Grace. Only I know that you shall not. The worst that I have to fear from you is that barbed tongue of yours filled with petty, ill-planned insults.” He shifted to stand behind the chair and table that he had laid out for Isaac, nodding toward the place setting with a knowing glance. “I have no more to fear from you than I would a doused kitten, wouldn’t you say?”
Andrew’s voice was warm, fatherly as he spoke. A playful chastisement of his employer, the man he had known since he was a child.
Isaac stared at the man for a long moment, engaged in a silent battle of wills. Andrew would stand there until Isaac ate something, and Isaac would cave as they both knew that he would. He would be allowed to return to his sullen pouting after the fact.
“Oh, all right!” He pushed back from the heavy wooden desk and moved around it to the chair and small table, which had likely only been placed in here last week for this exact purpose. “I am only relenting because you are likely the only person who does not frighten at the sight of me. Do not get it into your mind that there is any other reason.”
Andrew nodded, his hands coming to clasp in front of him. Isaac did not have to look at the man to know that he was hiding a victorious smile. The tea blend was one of his favorites, his stomach gurgling in anticipation at the scent of it.
He had missed breakfast again as well, had he not? Worked himself clear through most of the night until the candles had been too low to see by. It was easier to be in here, locked away inside of his study. It was simpler to remain in here than to see the servants carefully avoiding the sight of him. He could not stomach the way that they carefully schooled their expressions to keep from gawking in horror. It was why the meals in the formal dining room were too difficult. It was hardly their fault that their employer looked like such a wounded animal. He would not subject them to more than he needed to.
“I have received word that your Aunt Violet will be receiving guests this afternoon.”
“Is that so?” Isaac helped himself to tea, carefully ignoring the ball of dread forming in his stomach at the idea of company. “Did you by any chance inform her that she has her own home that she could receive company in, and that she does not have to use mine?”
“I did, Your Grace. But she insisted that your home was far grander and much better suited for the likes of her company.”
“Meaning that she did not wish to put forth the effort into her own home as she’s been too busy spending my money on pointless decorations?”
Andrew laughed, shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Something like that, Your Grace.” A beat of silence fell between them before he spoke again. “I think she worries, Your Grace, that you have been lonely for too long.”
Isaac paused to sip his tea, his attention drifting off toward the small window behind his desk. The man had a point. It was not something they often discussed. The life that Isaac had led before the war was vastly different than the one he led now.
Gone were the days of lascivious behavior at all hours of the night, taking advantage of his title to gain access to the clubs and parties. He did not chase pleasure at the expense of revelry and companionship. A large part of him would like to return to his rakish ways. Life was simpler then, it was uncomplicated and filled with nothingness. No meaning. No nightmares that woke him from a dead sleep. Women who would flock to him now crossed the street before having to look at him.
“She needs to mind her business and keep to affairs that concern her,” Isaac responded softly. He cared for his aunt. She was incredibly valuable to him in more ways than one.
Isaac’s mother had died at such a very young age and his Aunt Violet had a hand in raising him, into forming the man that he became. He understood that her concerns were born from a mother’s heart inside of a woman who had never been gifted with children of her own.
That did not make it any easier to bear. She insisted that the right woman was going to come along. She insisted that he would fall in love and that nothing else would matter. And as each and every day passed, her promises turned into fairytale daydreams. He was a man who had once worked and traded in love that lasted no longer than a nighttime, and now he was condemned to solitude as thanks for serving his country so valiantly. Yes, Fate was a kind mistress, indeed. “Who is the company she is receiving?”
“I believe she said something about a dear friend of hers, the Dowager Countess of Evans? I overheard her speaking to her lady’s maid about getting the linens cleaned in two bedchambers, so I believe she will be accompanied by one of her daughters. They were bringing up floral arrangements and fresh candlesticks all morning. Tucking lavender around the chambers as she likes to do.”
Isaac nodded, that explained the merchants that had been coming by for the last week with baskets, bolts of cloth and seamstresses to fit her for new gowns. She had even convinced him to have new waistcoats and jackets made. He had foolishly assumed that it was so that she could pretend that he was keeping up with the styles and colors of the Season. Now he knew that she had far more devious intentions.
It made perfect sense to him now that she hadn’t asked his permission, or even bothered to tell him it was happening. He could already guess as to how that conversation was going to go. Violet would explain that if only he would consent to having meals with her in the dining room again that she would have ample opportunity to explain things to him. That they could hold conversations that wouldn’t require her to go hunting around the Hall for him like some rat catcher. She was a cunning thing, after all.
“I see, and did she say exactly how long I am to host her friend and daughter?”
Isaac could go and seek out his aunt. He was certain that was exactly what she was hoping for. She wanted to answer all of his questions so that she could heavily imply how he ought to spend his time. Lectures about how to be a gracious host would follow. She would titter about his person making small, well-intentioned comments and his temper would be set aflame like kindling to a fire. It was his stubbornness that would prevent him from doing that.
“Not that I heard, Your Grace, but I could perhaps inquire on your behalf?”
No, that would be just as bad.
If she thought that Isaac was sending Andrew as his lackey, then she would be incensed. Isaac wasn’t blind to the strange nature of their relationship. His Aunt Violet never had an unkind word to say about any living thing, but the way that she looked at Andrew when she thought nobody was looking could wilt flowers and sour milk. Why she disliked him was her own business.
“Perhaps, Your Grace, if you would simply consent to going to Town for the Season she might be more content. I dare say you wouldn’t even have to participate. Just word of your being present might suffice. Even with your limitations, I daresay your title and land would be enough to secure you an advantageous match.”
“Is that all that I am to be, Andrew? Somebody’s purse? Only worthy of tolerance for that which I might offer their status?” Isaac could feel the heat of anger rising inside of him. “With a marriage, children would be expected. Children, Andrew. How am I to perform my husbandly duties when most women faint at the very sight of my mangled face?”
Isaac spun in his chair, leering at his trusted steward as if he might find the answers to his questions written on the man's face. Instead he only found sympathy. “At least you came home, Your Grace.”
Andrew’s tone was soft. It was a wound that never healed. The loss of a child was something that Isaac could not fathom. Isaac and Johnathan had gone off to battle together. Served in the regiment together. Stood side by side through training and battlefield and yet, only Isaac had returned home. Andrew had been beside himself for weeks. He had worked for his family for many years and Isaac knew that after losing his son, this Hall and his employment was nearly all that his steward had left.
“That is not fair, Andrew,” Isaac said as kindly as he could. The implication that as long as he was alive, then nothing else could be the matter. So long as he was still standing then he ought to be grateful for any day his lungs filled with air. Isaac understood that. However, that did not make the knowledge of how he had returned any easier.
“Life is not fair, Your Grace, and you have returned to your home mostly whole. You have a duty to maintain, a duty that my son will never be allowed to fulfill and yet you squander it away here in your study, calculating accounts and keeping an eagle eye on your ledgers and reports…squandering away your youth and not continuing your line. Should the burden of passing on the title be yours to bear? I know not, Your Grace, but it is on your shoulders and I will not stand by while you pout here in the dark. Mangled face, two heads, or any other beastly qualities that you still hold inside of your heart notwithstanding.”
Isaac had rarely heard the man raise his voice to him before. He knew he was right. The passion was plain in his words and yet they both knew the conversation had crossed a line never meant to be crossed. “It is not that simple, Andrew.” They were slipping out of the neat lines that their positions in life kept them in, and Andrew’s comments cut to the core.
Is that what I’m doing? Pouting?
Isaac was a proud man, and he attempted to be patient with Andrew as much as he knew how. “I will not force myself or my visage onto an eligible young lady whose parents have pressured her into a loveless marriage simply because of a title that I was born into. It would be cruel to expect a woman, any woman, to look upon my face day after day and find anything but revulsion there. You, Sir, are cruel to imply such a thing simply for the sake of an heir.”
Even as he said the words, he wasn’t entirely certain that he meant them.
“I’ve overstepped then, Your Grace. Please accept my sincerest apologies,” Andrew muttered, his hands holding more tightly to one another in front of his person. His blue eyes were trained on the ground near his feet. It was apparent to Isaac that his steward had more to say but was keeping himself from saying it. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll return to my work at once, Your Grace.”
Isaac shook his head, lifting a hand to stop the man. “No, no, I think I’ll head out for a swim.”
Isaac’s temper carried him out onto the grounds in a huff. He did not pause to take in the setting or relish in the loveliness of the day. He noticed how the warmth of the sun felt different on the scar tissue of his face than it did anywhere else.
Swimming was a new hobby meant to calm him. He had always been an active fellow, but fencing and archery did not hold the same joy or sense of accomplishment for him as it did before he had gone off to battle. One of the very first things that he had done upon his arrival back home was to banish all of the weapons strewn about the Estate to a back storage room in Calder Hall.
Isaac unbuttoned his waistcoat and allowed it to fall somewhere behind him. Irritation hastened his steps and he untucked his linen shirt and cast that aside. He could feel the pull and stretch of scars there as well, littered across his chest and arms as he moved to the lakefront.
The very last thing that he was expecting, while he swam naked in the lake, was his name to be called, loudly. Isaac sank below the surface. Who was calling him, and why did it seem like he wasn’t alone?
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