Page 24 of A Duke in Her Fate
“It won’t!”
“But if it does––”
Had she known? Ronan tortured himself day after day, year after year, wondering if she had known what might happen. That she wouldn’t be here to raise her child, that she would leave Ronan all alone after all these years.
I took so much for granted. I shouldn’t have, I didn’t mean to. If only I could take it back…
“Your Grace, I’m terribly sorry,” Anne said as she descended the staircase where he was pacing below.
A glance at his pocket watch proved he might be late if he didn’t leave now. The sun was nearly up. He didn’t like the idea of pulling Oliver and Anne out of their home into the carriage for such a long journey. But Isla deserved to know, to meet him. This was finally going to happen and then Ronan would stop feeling out of sorts about the matter.
“There is no need to worry,” he assured the nurse. “Are you almost ready? We can only delay a little while longer. The carriage is ready.”
He had risen earlier than usual to inspect it himself, ensuring the current conveyance was sturdy. It was small and was only meant for a small party and a driver. But he didn’t mind driving them to London. All he needed was the nursemaid and the boy. Except no matter where Ronan looked about Anne, the boy wasn’t there.
When he looked back up to Anne, the woman was apologetic. “I’m terribly sorry. He fell ill. I don’t think the milk sat well with him. We were up half the night, we were, with a bowl. He just now fell asleep again and I’d hate to move him. Your Grace,” she added kindly.
“No, no, of course not,” he automatically replied.
Ronan exhaled as an overwhelming sense of frustration toppled over him. Clutching his hair, he began to pace again. This time he went faster.
What was he to do? It wasn’t as though he could not go to Isla now. A gentleman didn’t renege on a meeting. But the whole point was to introduce Oliver. When else would they do this, the wedding? That wasn’t a reasonable option; no, it was today, when he had made this plan.
“I’m sorry,” Anne offered as she watched him move to and fro.
“No, I know. It’s not your fault. Or Oliver’s,” Ronan chewed out. When else was he supposed to make this meeting happen? He tried to reassure the troubled woman a little more even though he didn’t believe a word. “It’s perfectly fine. I’ll sort out another plan.”
Except I liked that plan.
There was nothing to be done about this, however. The boy needed rest. As well as a physician, who was promptly ordered to attend the house.
While he had lost some time over the change of plans, Ronan still carried hopes of reaching the tea house in London proper on time as he rode on the horse. The weather was misty and dampened his hair, making it curl and fall in his face.
Arriving just in the nick of time, he saw her arrive from strolling down the other side of the street. At once Ronan presented himself with a bow and offered his arm to guide her inside.
“What a lovely little place,” Isla commented as he helped her to a seat. “Is this a tea house you enjoy visiting? There are so many in London?”
“No. I don’t frequent London,” he added, remembering the need to be conversational.
There was still a stalling moment before Isla nodded. Did she expect him to say more? Surely, he had expounded enough. She opened her mouth to speak only for the hostess to arrive, displaying a menu of their current options.
“I should love the coffee, if that might be acceptable?”
Ronan furrowed his brow when she looked his way. The hostess did as well. Had he not told her she could do as she liked? Though her choice made him wonder if she would like totry some chai. “Coffee, then, and some pastries. Whatever is freshest.”
“Very good. And for you, Your Grace?”
“Black tea, I suppose.”
The hostess finally took her leave, but Ronan didn’t feel any more comfortable afterward like he had hoped. Shifting in the seat, he ignored the occasional glances falling on them.
Once, he had enjoyed the attention. Who wouldn’t? He had been a lad climbing the trees on the day his father returned home with a dukedom thrust upon his shoulders. New wealth was filthy, to be sure, but a new title? People were fascinated and couldn’t help themselves. For years, he relished the attention and side eyes with amusement. Having money and fame did much for a young man.
But he didn’t feel particularly young and the riches didn’t matter like they used to.
“Your Grace?”
He jerked his head up, realizing he had been lost in thought. “Hmm?”
