Page 10 of The Spring Promise (The Starlings of Starling Hall #1)

CHAPTER TEN

W ill arrived at Lacey Farm in good time to accompany Molly to afternoon tea at Hunter’s grandmother’s house.

Molly was almost ready, her sister told him as he kicked his heels in their parlour. Mrs. Lacey was busy baking in the kitchen, and the delicious smells made Will’s stomach rumble. He’d have preferred to have remained here, he thought grumpily. He wasn’t looking forward to spending time with Hunter. And now, even Celeste had begun to irritate him.

After Molly had left the Norris’s ball Celeste had insisted on dancing with Will several times, no doubt causing raised eyebrows and gossip. Barton Lacey may be far from London, but the social niceties were still observed, and dancing so many times with Celeste would have tongues wagging, whereas his dances with Molly would not. Everyone knew they had been friends from childhood, so no one thought anything of it. Whereas Celeste…

Will wasn’t sure why that worried him. A few weeks ago, he would have been happy to have his name linked to Celeste. He wanted to marry her and spend his life with her. And now…

He didn’t.

It was as simple and yet as complicated as that.

He wasn’t sure whether he had fallen out of love with her, or whether he had never been in love with her in the first place. It was as if he had been under a spell and now that it had broken, he could see clearly again. He didn’t blame Celeste for clouding his mind and his eyes. That had been his own doing. A madness that had come and gone like a fever, and now he was well again.

Grace leaned closer to Will. “Are you listening?” she whispered. “You have a faraway look on your face.”

“Sorry. What did you say?”

“I said,” Grace looked behind her as if afraid Molly might be hovering. “Mr Hunter made Molly an offer of marriage at the ball. What do you think of that?”

Will was speechless. He stood up and then sat down again. “He asked her…”

“Yes. He said to think about it. She didn’t want to tell me, but of course I made her,” Grace said. “I could see she was big with news when we drove home.”

Will hardly heard her. He was still dumbfounded.

“If she marries him, I would like to go and stay with her,” Grace said dreamily. “Life is so boring in Barton Lacey.”

Part of him wanted to call Hunter out. Although swords or pistols were far too civilised for what he wanted to do to Hunter. How dare he presume to ask Molly to marry him! Molly was not Hunter’s and would never be Hunter’s. Molly was…

The truth hit him and he felt like the bad tempered bull in the west paddock at Starling Hall. Roaring and stamping and shaking its massive head. He felt exactly like that right now because Molly was his .

But she wasn’t, was she? Molly saw him as her brother and could never love him in that way. Just because he realised now that he loved her and couldn’t live without her, and wanted to marry her and take her home to Starling Hall and be with her forever. Well, that didn’t mean Molly was the least bit interested in it ever happening.

Will stood up again. Oh God, was she going to accept? Was she going to go off with Hunter? And Will had thrown her into his arms as a distraction as he pursued Celeste. What a fool he had been! Abby was right. He was an idiot.

Open your eyes, you idiot.

His sister had said those words to him just this morning as he was about to set out to Lacey Farm. It had seemed puzzling and a little extreme at the time, but now he understood. He had opened his eyes, and it was too late.

Or was it? Could he turn things around. Could he somehow salvage this situation? Will had warned her of the man’s reputation. Perhaps he had cushioned his words too much? Inadvertently made the cad sound appealing like in one of those blasted gothic novels his sister Abby read. Think, think! Don’t panic.

Will was a practical man, and he must approach this in a practical, commonsense manner. The direct approach, then. He would tell Molly he did not love Celeste after all and that he loved her. He would ask her not to go off with the cad Hunter because he wasn’t good enough for her. And Molly would…

He almost groaned aloud. Molly would laugh at him or she would be cross with him, because he had made all of this happen. If it hadn’t been for his obsession with another woman and the promise he had wrung out of Molly, then none of this drama would have happened. He would have woken up one morning and thought: I am going to ask Molly to marry me, and Molly would have said yes, and they would have lived happily ever after.

Or perhaps he would never have realised he loved her if this hadn’t happened? Perhaps he had needed his whole world to be tipped upside down so that he could see the truth that was right before his eyes.

“Will?”

He turned, startled. Molly stood inside the door, looking at him, puzzled. Grace scuttled out of the room, and Molly’s frown grew. She turned back to Will. “Come on,” she said, “or we will be late.”

Once in the carriage he had brought for the occasion, she didn’t waste time.

“Grace told you, didn’t she?” Her eyes flashed. “She swore she wouldn’t. I will have words with her when we get back.”

“I’m glad she told me,” Will said, struggling to be calm. “You can’t possibly… That is, are you really considering Hunter’s proposal?”

Molly turned to face the road before them. It was a pleasant day, and her straw bonnet shaded her fair skin, while a gold locket rested about her throat, and he could see the pulse there beating fast. She might look calm and neat and well turned out, but inside was surely another matter.

“That is none of your business, William,” she replied evenly, “and I won’t discuss it with you.”

“I told you about Celeste!”

Her green eyes narrowed as she turned them on him. “That was your decision. I didn’t want to hear about her. I would have preferred you kept it to yourself.”

He floundered. “But I thought we were friends?”

“I have decided there should be a limit to our friendship.”

This did not bode well for his plan to ask Molly to marry him, or at least to confess his love for her. He considered again explaining himself in a clear and concise manner, but he could see by the set of her jaw and her hands clenched in her lap that she would not be receptive. And yet, what other option was there left to him?

This indecision lasted until they arrived at the Hunter residence. He had not been there before, but knew the widow Hunter by sight. Hunter and his grandmother greeted them cheerfully, and Will struggled not to glare. He suspected Hunter understood why he was barely able to speak, and it seemed to amuse him.

Sir Reginald and Celeste had already arrived and were ensconced in a pleasantly decorated drawing room. The widow Hunter—he must stop calling her that in his head—was an artist and was keen to show off some of her work. Will’s mother was also an amateur artist when she had time, and he found what he saw here to be rather good. The elderly woman pointed out to Molly where some of the landscapes had been painted.

“I find Barton Lacey an infinite source of inspiration,” she said.

“It is a beautiful place,” Molly agreed enthusiastically.

“And yet you are young, my dear. You may move away once you marry.”

Molly shook her head. “I don’t think so,” she said. And then, as if afraid she had said something she shouldn’t have, cast a glance toward Hunter.

She need not have worried. Hunter and Sir Reginald were deep in discussion about their plant collections. Will tried to eavesdrop on more of Molly’s conversation, but Celeste had taken his arm and was chattering to him about all the things she hoped to do when she was home. “I am going to stay with my cousin in London ,” she said breathlessly, as if it was the most wonderful thing she could think of.

“Won’t you miss any of this?” Will asked, waving a hand vaguely around them.

“Oh. Of course,” Celeste said hastily. “I will miss you, Mr Starling. Perhaps you could visit me while I am there? You would be most welcome. Mr Hunter intends to call, although he tells me he is always very busy.”

She pouted and Will decided he would need to be direct.

“I am afraid I am very busy as well,” he said. “The estate keeps me very busy, and I do not have time to gallivant in London, Miss Morton.”

Celeste blinked at him in surprise. “Oh, that is too bad,” she said rather sharply. “But I believe if one does not venture outside of one’s comfortable little world, then one will become very boring. That is why I will treasure my time here, and the people I have met.”

“All very well, Miss Morton, but I am not a man of leisure like Mr Hunter. One day Starling Hall will be mine and I intend to run it as efficiently as possible, without compromising the wellbeing of my tenants or my animals.”

There, he had said what needed to be said in the sort of plain language he preferred. And Celeste seemed bewildered by his frankness.

“Will,” she said quietly, “we would not suit at all, would we? Why did you ask me to marry you?”

“If I am being honest, I was bewitched by you. Your-your beauty and your kindness. I have never met anyone like you in my life. You sparkle like the brightest star. Barton Lacey will be the poorer for your going, Miss Morton. But there is more to marriage than that. As you have pointed out, we would not suit at all. But I too will treasure the time I have spent with you.”

Celeste seemed very moved by that. It wasn’t entirely the truth, but Will thought it was close enough, and he didn’t want to hurt the girl.

“Oh Will,” she whispered, and blinked back tears. “Thank you. I will never forget you.”

Will gave her a bow and walked away. He felt lighter, as if he had shed a heavy weight. Now he wanted to find Molly. But neither Molly nor Hunter were in the room. A sense of foreboding washed over him. Was he already too late?