Page 11 of Jillian’s Wild Heart (Ladies of Munro #4)

T he Bradford household had a strict rule about Sunday dinner. Regardless of Philip’s privilege and the accommodations made for Penelope, all were to be present at what was often the only meal the entire family shared in a week. It was therefore the ideal opportunity for Lewis to announce his news.

He waited until everyone was seated and the footmen had served the soup.

Talk had already begun, though it wasn’t conversation as such.

Lewis considered these meals to be his parents’ way of eliciting a sort of report on their lives, a means of establishing whether their adult children were progressing as they should.

For a while, Pen had always fared the worst in these assessments.

Her obstinate refusal to consider marriage had put her at loggerheads with both their mother and father, who could not fathom how they had raised such a foolhardy child.

They had threatened to cut off her pin money if she did not marry, only to find her the following week—after great consternation by Mother and an extensive search by all the servants—at the docks about to board a boat to America, having sold some jewelry to pay for the ticket.

After this incident, Lewis would have thought their parents might have tightened the constraints even further where their daughter was concerned.

But he had underestimated how great the impact of possibly losing Penelope would be on them.

Perhaps they truly cared. Maybe they feared a scandal.

Whatever the case may have been, an understanding had been reached.

Lewis suspected that his mother held a secret hope that, one day, a gentleman would prove so irresistible that Penelope would throw all caution to the wind and choose marriage after all. So far, such hope had come to nothing.

As far as Philip was concerned, his life followed a predictable and pleasing path.

He attended all the right functions, shook all the right hands.

He was expected to propose to Miss Irene Sangford any day now.

He said what he should, did what he should, and had few thoughts of his own.

He was therefore, ironically, free to do whatever he pleased.

If he gambled a bit too often or drank a little too much on occasion, well, it was all part of being a vigorous gentleman, was it not?

Provided he did not shame the family name, he might be allowed some leeway.

And then there was Lewis. Their second son.

Intelligent and successful, and friends with the most powerful man in Munro.

And yet all of that did not seem to count for much.

Lewis, as required, did not upset the apple cart.

And as long as this remained the case, he was all but invisible.

They neither worried about him nor commended him on his achievements.

Which was why, on this Sunday afternoon, Lewis’s news caused more of a stir than he thought it would have.

Penelope had confirmed she was doing nothing by way of marriage or causing a fuss. And Philip had briefly described a pleasant ride with the Sangford sisters. Chaperoned, of course. Everyone had returned to their meal. Lewis had been discounted as unlikely to have done anything newsworthy.

That was about to change.

“Mother,” Lewis began, “I should like to invite a guest to dinner next Sunday.”

“Sunday is a family meal,” Lord Bradford said firmly. “We do not invite guests. Choose another day.”

“And if the guest is to become family?” Lewis asked, waiting for understanding to dawn.

“Oh, Lewis!” squealed Penelope, first to draw the correct conclusion. “Is it Miss Kinsey? Have you asked her? Did she say yes ?”

“Who is Miss Kinsey, pray?” asked Lady Bradford, the tight line of her mouth matching the thin streaks of black and gray in her hair. “I am not familiar with the young lady. I do not recall you mentioning her before.”

“Oh, Mother!” cried Penelope. “How can you say that? Lewis has spoken of almost nothing else these past months! I can’t wait to meet her. She sounds an absolute delight.”

“Who is her family?” their mother inquired. “Why have we not been previously introduced?”

“She is not a resident of Munro,” Lewis explained. “Her family is from Ermenbrough, about four hours east of us by carriage.”

“Then how did you meet?”

“We were introduced by Lady Howell. Miss Kinsey is a dear friend of hers. They grew up together.”

“I assume she comes from a good family,” said Lady Bradford, ticking along with her interrogation.

“They are very good people, indeed,” Lewis said, feeling the first prickles of defensiveness. “I have never heard anything to the contrary.”

“And yet she has escaped my notice,” pondered his mother. “Is there something you are not telling us, Lewis?”

“I cannot imagine what else you need to know,” Lewis said stubbornly. “Miss Kinsey is friends with the Viscount Howell and his wife. She has not created a reputation for herself by which you might be dismayed. Most importantly, she has agreed to marry me.”

“What do mean, she has agreed to marry you?” Lord Bradford blustered. “We haven’t even met the lady. What do you mean by proposing without our knowledge?”

Lewis clamped his mouth shut, lest he say something untoward to his father.

He counted to ten. It didn’t help. With barely restrained annoyance, he answered.

“Father, I am thirty years of age. I am a man of independent means. And I have never done anything that warranted your attention before. I had hoped that my marriage might be a joyous announcement, but I owe you nothing more. I certainly do not need your permission to marry the woman I love.”

“‘ Love ’!” His father scoffed, his jowls billowing slightly. “What sort of foolish talk is this? A man of your standing must consider more than banal sentimentality.”

“Why?” Lewis retorted. “Since when has my role in this family mattered? I have done all that I should. I have not hampered Philip’s progress in society.

I have not exposed Penelope to anyone of bad character.

I have earned my independence, as a second son is supposed to.

Further than that, you have seen fit to all but disregard my existence.

And now you would claim rights over me?”

“Don’t be churlish, Lewis,” Lady Bradford scolded. “Your father is quite right to be concerned. You could yet harm your brother’s and sister’s prospects with a bad match. Why would you be so selfish?”

“‘ Selfish ’?!” Lewis nearly choked on the word. “When have I ever done anything for myself? And why would Miss Kinsey, when she becomes the wife of a humble barrister, be a threat to them in any way? You haven’t even met her, and already, you have decided she is not good enough.”

“Well, is she?” Lady Bradford asked pointedly. “If she is such a prize, you would have brought her to our attention sooner.”

“She is not your prize,” grumbled Lewis. “She is mine. As for bringing her to your attention, I have done so on several occasions. You obviously thought her too unimportant to pay any mind to the mention of her.”

“Hang on,” Philip interrupted. “I remember now. Isn’t Miss Kinsey the young lady who visits Munro House for weeks at a time? She was at the viscount’s wedding. Do you recall, Mother, you commented on her country manners? Isn’t she the daughter of the Trentons’ butler or something?”

“Groundskeeper,” corrected Lewis. “Though why that should matter escapes me.”

“Does it, indeed?” Lord Bradford sat back in his chair, elbows out, his chest expanding like a bird displaying its plumage.

“I would say, Regina,” he said to his wife, “that we have stumbled upon the heart of the matter. Miss Kinsey is of the working class. An alliance with her family offers no advantage, only embarrassment. You knew this, Lewis. That is why she has never been a guest here before.”

Lewis felt his hackles rise. His skin grew hot and irritable.

A pressure, as of steam needing to be released, built up in his head.

“Miss Kinsey,” he said through gritted teeth, “is no embarrassment to me, and I shall have every advantage with her at my side. Her class is an accident of birth. Her parents are sound. Her father is no mere servant, and he has the full trust of his employer. Miss Kinsey herself has a fine enough character to suit the taste of Viscount Howell as a houseguest and companion to his wife. Who are we that we are above such things? And who are you to tell me I have no right to be happy in marriage because my siblings might choose an arrogant spouse? Why should their poor taste in partner trump my choice? If, for example, Miss Sangford does not wish to be sister-in-law to Miss Kinsey, I say we are better off without her .”

“Now, just a minute!” cried Philip.

“No, Philip,” Lewis bit back. “I’m sorry, but this is one matter in which I will not compromise.

You have always had first choice in everything.

Even when I desperately wanted that pony for my seventh birthday.

You were frightened of the thoroughbred Father got you and insisted the little piebald would suit you better.

The next thing I knew, they were both yours.

It has been this way my whole life. I have had to accept it as an accident of my birth.

I don’t care what you tell Miss Sangford.

Promise her she never has to mix company with me if that’s what it takes. But I will not give up Miss Kinsey.”

He looked from one person at the table to the next.

They all met his gaze with their dark-blue eyes beneath brown-black hair—the only attributes they had in common.

Lewis’s glare softened when he looked upon Pen, her worried smile creating pity in Lewis’s heart for the sister who would wish him well but who was so thoroughly outvoted.