Meet Me at Dawn

Chapter Eight

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The course of true love never did run smooth.

                                                                                       William Shakespeare

The early morning sunlight filtered in through the rippled glass windows of the morning room, spreading its luminous coruscations across the white linen tablecloth. Sleepily, I sat at the table as one of the footmen poured a cup of tea for me and then placed the Times on Sutherland’s place at the head of the table. He had not arrived yet, which was odd, as he was habitually early to rise.

I shrugged off his absence, assuming that he perhaps indulged in too much drink the night before due to our interlude with Miss Harding. I wondered if she would be gracing us with her presence once more today.

Without another thought, I began eating. His lordship could very well break his fast alone. I had just begun to consume my meal when Lord Sutherland burst through the doors, looking every bit the aristocrat I had forgotten he was. He had resumed the typical unreadable mask that all noblemen wore, and sauntered nonchalantly across the room to stand before the table.

“We leave for London in four days time.”

I paused, fork midway to my mouth, at the earl’s announcement. Why journey to London now, when the Season was already well underway? Gracelessly, with my mouth containing half-chewed food, I gave him a puzzled look. “But why, milord? Haven’t you been sayin’ that you need to be here, to manage things?"

The events of the previous day, and the encounter with his fiancé, appeared quite forgotten, as he seemed reluctant to mention it. Sutherland sighed and took a seat across from me at the table. “Have you no manners at all? How am I to take you anywhere in London when you cannot abstain from speaking with a full mouth of food?”

I swallowed the food in my mouth with one large gulp. “Aye, well, perhaps it is better for us all to avoid London all together.”

I smiled at my quip. Sutherland, however, failed to find the humor in my remark, and my smile quickly faltered. I eyed him speculatively, wondering why the sudden decision to travel into town. Could it be that he was truly in love with her? Perhaps he was more astute than I originally believed, and knew my identity. My heart fervently hoped it was the latter, for it held on to the distant hope that he was unattached to her.

However, in either instance, it was essential to curtail this venture.

He continued to find the tablecloth the most intriguing work of art in the room, staring down, unblinking. It was then, as I watched a myriad of expressions cross his face in a matter of seconds, that I realized he had yet to answer my original question: Why?

Carefully observing his expression, I resolved to hold my tongue, and find a more circumspect manner by which to reveal his thoughts. He caught my gaze and held it, breaking the trance only when I nodded in acquiescence to prepare for the journey.

He quickly stood and exited the room without another word, leaving me staring after him, striving to devise a strategy to delay our imminent arrival in London.

***

I saw little of the earl for the next few days before our departure. I was unsure if he was purposely avoiding me for some reason, or if he was increasingly preoccupied with ordering arrangements for his townhouse in Grosvenor Square.