Page 2 of The Spring Promise (The Starlings of Starling Hall #1)

CHAPTER TWO

W hat everyone was saying was true, Will Starling did have his sights set on Celeste Morton. From the moment first saw her, smiling at him from her uncle’s carriage, he’d been determined to win her heart. However, every other single gentleman in Barton Lacey seemed to have the same aim. But Will’s was unwavering, and once he set his mind on a thing, he did not give up until he had it.

He found Celeste fascinating in a way that kept him awake late at night. That little smile that curved at the corners of her pink lips, followed by a glance from under her lashes, as if she was checking to see whether he had noticed her. Which he had. Of course he had.

Abby, his elder sister, said he was infatuated. Sometimes she said he was besotted. She would shake her head at him and say, “Love takes time,” with all the wisdom her two years of seniority allowed. “It doesn’t strike like a bolt of lightning. That’s just a nursery tale. You need to know someone properly before you can fall in love with them. Everything else is make believe.”

Will didn’t have time for Abby’s cautious nonsense. If he didn’t move quick, Celeste would be lost to him. Once they were wed, his whole family—his eight siblings and his parents—would have to admit he had been right all along. She was perfect. He imagined Celeste living in Starling Hall, seated at the long table, picking flowers from his mother’s garden, and retiring with him to his bedchamber.

And if sometimes his imaginings felt more like wistful thinking than reality, and doubts tried to thrust their way into his bright and shiny dream, he pushed them aside and refused to consider for a moment that he was wrong.

The Starlings were a large, warm-hearted family that supported one another and shared everything, but Will wanted something that was his and his alone. A love to sustain him through the years of toil that lay ahead, of always thinking of someone else—whether his younger brother Nigel needed new shoes or his sister Christine had piano lessons that day, or his other sister Breana was involved in another scrap. Will wanted to be seen for himself rather than just the Starling heir. He was dependable and trustworthy, but at times it seemed to him as if he had been forgotten.

That was why he needed Celeste to marry him. With her at his side, he would never fade into the background.

As he rode past the Lacey farm he almost stopped. He used to, the Lacey’s farmhouse was like a second home to him, but he reminded himself he no longer had time to waste on social calls. Molly was his best friend, but he didn’t think she would mind his neglect, not when he presented Celeste to her as his future wife. Molly would be happy for him, just as he would be pleased for her when she married.

When he reached the Morton house, he noticed a horse tethered outside. His expression fell as he recognised it as Mark Hunter’s gelding. Hunter was an acknowledged ne’er-do-well, but for some reason Celeste seemed to like him. He had arrived in Barton Lacey shortly after Celeste and was living with an elderly grandparent. Word was he was rusticating here until some scandal or other back in London had died down.

Will didn’t care what Hunter had done, he just wanted him to go away.

When Hunter first arrived, he had tried to warn Celeste off him. He believed he had done so reasonably, without causing offence, but Celeste had laughed at Will’s well-intentioned efforts and called him ‘stuffy’. Abby always said he tended to be old-fashioned, and young women these days did not like to be told what to do.

He had not said anything to Celeste on the matter since. The thought of her seeing him as one of those stern, authoritarian husbands made him shudder. He was determined that his wife would live life at his side as an equal, and would never expect her to obey his every whim. Will needed only to look to his parents for a prime example of how a happy marriage was negotiated.

Not that Celeste would allow him to boss her around anyway. She was not a meek sort of girl.

Molly Lacey wasn’t meek either, but Will had never been concerned that she was going to do something outrageous if he didn’t correct her. She was easy company, comfortable in a way Celeste was not. Like a favourite slipper.

Well, that was a rather unflattering comparison. And why on earth was he suddenly thinking about Molly?

Will dismounted, prepared to put up with Hunter’s company for the sake of Celeste. As he drew near, he could hear laughter from the large conservatory at the side of the house.

Sir Reginald Morton was a keen botanist and the conservatory’s glassed interior was a jungle of greenery, and the scent of exotic blooms was far too heady for Will’s sensitive sinuses. What on earth was wrong with plain old roses and violets? Why did everything in Sir Reginald’s greenhouse have to be a rare treasure from a faraway land? Celeste loved the place, though, so Will pretended to like it, and put up with his subsequent headaches for her sake.

As he fought against the clinging tendrils of an overgrown vine, wondering if it was trying to strangle him, he finally spotted Celeste. She and Hunter were standing near a table set with a pot of tea with cups, and a lump of cake on a tray. Probably that nasty seed cake Hunter liked and which was forever getting caught in Will’s teeth. Last time he ate it, a seed had attached to his front tooth, which he hadn’t discovered until he arrived home. It still made him squirm to think Celeste had seen him in such an embarrassing state. These days he tried to smile without showing his teeth at all.

Hunter looked up. “Ah, Starling.” He always said the name in a way that irritated Will, as if he was thinking of a common bird. There were times when Will wished his family name was St. John or Montgomery or Marchmont, anything but Starling.

Will nodded politely. “Hunter. Miss Morton. I think we can finally say it is spring in Barton Lacey. I noticed some daffodils flowering in the garden at the hall.”

Celeste dimpled at him, looking particularly fetching in a pale blue gown with a matching ribbon gathering up her dark curls. “Mr Starling. Have you seen the Aristolochia Hyperborea ? Uncle Reggie is very excited to see it in bloom. He is writing to the botanic gardens at Kew to tell them all about it.”

Will looked past her at the specimen—a particularly ugly one, in his opinion—and tried not to roll his eyes. All the same, Hunter seemed to guess his feelings and smirked. “Not to your taste, Starling? I suppose you prefer daisies, eh?”

Will ignored him and spoke to Celeste. “I’m sure the gardeners at Kew will be happy to hear your uncle’s news.” But he sounded awkward and uninspiring, and he wasn’t surprised when Celeste gave a disappointed sigh.

“You know, Mr Starling, you could try just a little harder to show your enthusiasm.” She fussed with the teapot, but her displeasure was obvious.

Hunter cleared his throat. Will expected another dig, but it was worse than that.

“I have an announcement. I have started a small collection of my own. Of course, it is nothing as grand as Sir Reginald’s. He is the master and I am but a disciple.”

Will felt a growl rising up in his chest and struggled to contain it. The man was insufferable. And then he wondered why he hadn’t thought of that. Possibly because outlandish plants were not his strong suit. Now if they were talking about which crops grew best in dry or boggy soil, Will was your man.

Celeste smiled sweetly at them both, peeping up through her long lashes. “I cannot tell you how glad I am I came to stay in Barton Lacey,” she said excitedly. “It is such a shame I have to return home to Shropshire next month.”

Both Will and Hunter stared at her. “Return home ?” they said at once.

“But of course.” Celeste folded her hands primly. “I cannot stay here forever, now can I? I came to visit because Uncle Reggie has been all alone since my aunt died, and he needed someone to manage his household. But all that is done now—he has employed an excellent housekeeper—so there is no reason for me to stay on. Is there?”

Will blinked. Was she hinting… Was she asking… Did she need a proposal as a reason to stay?

He could see from the determined expression on Hunter’s face that the cad had come to the same conclusion. The two men exchanged a long, challenging look. Will needed to act as soon as possible if he was to cut Hunter out of the race and win Celeste’s hand.

Tea was taken in a subdued atmosphere, despite Celeste’s efforts to enliven the occasion. Afterwards, Celeste informed them she had another engagement to attend. “Mrs. Norris has asked me to discuss the latest fashions with her.”

Mrs. Norris had four sons of marriageable age. Will ground his teeth at the thought of them circling Celeste like hungry wolves, but he had no choice but to leave. At least Hunter had to leave as well.

As Will mounted his mare, he looked at Hunter, doing the same with his gelding. The two men glared at one another.

“You know what this means?” Hunter said testily.

“What does it mean?” Will retorted. “Are you planning to go to war with me?”

Hunter snorted. “I was going to say, ‘May the best man win,’ but I think it a foregone conclusion, Starling .”

And what did that mean? Will wanted to make some furious riposte, but Hunter had already set off down the driveway at a canter, which turned into a gallop once he reached the road.

Will rode home more slowly, deep in thought. He needed help. He was floundering when it came to wooing Celeste. For every smile he won from her when she was pleased with him, there was a frown for his failure to agree to one of her many ‘capital notions’. Hunter, however, never seemed to misstep. And now whatever time he did have to show her he was the best choice of husband was almost gone. Hunter would be busy trying to lure her away with his London wiles, and Will’s country upbringing could not compete with that, title or no. He needed someone to help gain him the advantage.

He was passing the Lacey farmhouse, and made an impulsive decision to turn his horse up the lane. Who better to help him in his quest to win Celeste than his oldest friend, Molly Lacey? Molly was always full of sensible advice, and she was a woman. Surely she would know how Will could secure the hand of the woman he loved and wanted to marry?

Will felt a sense of tremendous relief. Molly would help. She would guide his next steps on his way to the altar.