Page 109 of Rogue of My Heart
A different kind of hope glimmered in Christian’s chest. Ned was the first person to refer to him by his given name since the accident. It was a tiny thing, but for the first time in days, it made Christian feel like a man and not a title.
“Thank you, Ned.” He returned the favor with as much of a smile as he could manage.
“Your father was a hard man, but a noble one,” Ned went on, standing tall and clasping his hands behind his back. For a moment, his gaze flickered to Lady Aoife again.
“Father was Father,” Christian said with a wistful look, then quickly said, “I hope you don’t mind if Lady Aoife takes tea with us. She’s come to inquire after my mother’s condition. I felt it would be cruel to send her away with just a short report or to stick her in a separate parlor while we conduct our business.” He glanced between the two, keeping an eye out for anything that would support Marie’s theory that there was something between the pair.
“How is your mother?” Ned asked, managing to be both compassionate and irritatingly vague about his feelings for Lady Aoife. Other than the initial looks, it was hard to tell if the man even knew she was there.
Christian sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, gesturing for Ned to have a seat on one of the parlor’s many chairs. “She’s no better than she was yesterday,” he confessed. Every thought of romantic undercurrents—or anything enjoyable and diverting—flew from Christian’s mind as he glanced to the ceiling and his mother’s bed chamber above. “She hasn’t awakened since the crash. Dr. Phillips says she may still be suffering from grievous internal injuries we cannot see.”
“They still don’t advise moving her to a hospital?” Lady Aoife asked, nodding to the maid who brought a tea tray into the room. Someone must have thought to fix tea for the guests before Christian could come up with the idea.
Christian shook his head. “Dr. Phillips says that as long as she is comfortable and as long as she is able to be fed by the nurses caring for her here, she should stay where she is.”
“You know that if there is anything I can do to help,” Lady Aoife began, leaving the statement open-ended.
“Thank you.” Christian nodded to her, genuinely grateful, but with no intention of asking her to help in any way. He knew beyond a doubt that if Marie had made the same offer, he would have whisked her up to his mother’s room immediately and had her take over his mother’s care.
That thought was interrupted when Ned cleared his throat. “Christian, I just wanted you to know that, until everything is settled and you are comfortable with your new position in life, I won’t press you about this property boundary dispute I had with your father.”
Christian’s brow lifted in surprise. “I was under the impression that you were adamant about your claims to the land in question. The land your father, and now you, claim is on your property encompasses the spring, does it not?”
“It does,” Ned said hesitantly, as if he truly didn’t want to talk about the dispute yet. “And as you know, that spring is vital to irrigation for both of our tenant farms, and as a source of drinking water for the tenants.”
Christian nodded in understanding, but already his mind was beginning to cloud again with the details. “All I know about the whole thing is that my father was firm in his belief that the land and water rights were ours,” he sighed. A headache was beginning to form behind his temples, so he rubbed them. “I’m sorry if I can’t recall the details about it off-hand. I’ll have to be brought up to speed with Father’s man of business. Surely, there has to be a way we can resolve the dispute.”
“I’m sure there is,” Ned said with a kind smile. He stood. “If you’ll excuse me, I truly don’t want to impose on you at this time, and it would appear now is not a good time for a social call.”
He must have thought Christian had more of a headache than he did. All the same, Christian wasn’t sad that the man wanted to leave. He rose as well and shook Ned’s hand again. “Thank you for your concern for my mother,” he said.
“I should go as well,” Lady Aoife said, standing and setting her barely-touched tea aside. She stole a glance at Ned. “Lord Garvagh, would you be so kind as to accompany me to where my brother is waiting for me in the village?”
“But of course, my lady.”
Marie was right. Christian was sure of it as they all said their final goodbyes. But even if Lady Aoife had feelings for Ned and those feelings were returned, what could any of them do about it? Even as part of him argued that the solution was so simple a child could see what should be done next, the part of Christian that was lashed with grief and fuzzy with mourning refused to let go of the idea that he owed it to his father to follow through with his marital plans. He couldn’t shake the feeling that marrying his father’s choice for him would finally make him worthy in the old man’s eyes, even if he was dead. Christian had killed the man, after all. He had an obligation to stick to the plan. That could make everything right.
Couldn’t it?
As soon as Ned and Lady Aoife were gone, he flopped onto the sofa beside the table where the tea tray rested. His head pounded more than he wanted to think about, and his heart throbbed achingly along with it. He knew full well that he wasn’t thinking straight, that he couldn’t think straight, under the circumstances. He wasn’t prepared for what lay ahead of him. He hadn’t worked his way up to it. Yes, he’d done well at Cambridge. He’d learned enough to get by. But he was an amateur when it came to running an estate and doing what was right for an old family name. But he could still hear his father telling him he was worthless and that he couldn’t even stick to a plan as simple as marrying the woman of his choice. Christian would have done just about anything to be able to speak with his mother about it. Her opinion would have gone miles toward helping him decide what he should do next.
He had to speak with someone. That truth hit him square in the gut. He might have been an earl and a proud man, but he wasn’t so proud that he couldn’t seek advice when he needed it. But who was there left to seek advice from? His father was gone. His cousin John was in England. Few other family members remained, and none of them were nearby.
The answer didn’t come to him until late that night, as he was crawling, exhausted, into bed. His family was either dead now or scattered to the four winds, but Marie’s family was still on hand. Specifically, Marie’s brother, Fergus. And while Christian didn’t know Fergus O’Shea as well as all that, he trusted the man. Anyone who had endured what Fergus had and came out stronger for it was exactly the sort of person Christian wanted to consult with.
He had to wait until morning, wait until the hour was reasonable to pay a visit to a neighbor. As soon as he could the next day, he washed, dressed, shaved, donned his hat, and made himself presentable enough to pay a call.
It was still embarrassingly early when he showed up on Dunegard Castle’s doorstep. It was a good sign that Fergus accepted his call all the same. The man even looked happy to see Christian when a footman showed him into the richly-decorated office deep into the family portion of the house.
“Kilrea,” Fergus propelled his chair forward, extending a hand to Christian once he entered the room. “How are you, man?”
“I’ve been better,” Christian said, removing his hat and gripping Fergus’s hand. He was more grateful than he would have expected for the strength Fergus showed.
“Understandable.” Fergus gestured for Christian to have a seat in one of the leather armchairs in the center of the room. Christian sat, feeling more comfortable once he was on Fergus’s level. “I take it there’s something I can help you with?” Fergus said, raising the eyebrow over his one eye.
Christian sighed, writhing with second thoughts about letting on that he was anything but prepared for his new life. “I need advice,” he said before he could change his mind. “About how to be an earl.”
Fergus blinked, inching back in his chair slightly. “That wasn’t what I assumed you’d come here for.”