![]() ![]() "Indeed." Reverend Somerton's smile managed to convey both understanding and a shared grief.Ī churchman's trick, Marcus supposed, but a good one. "I hope my marriage will be a source of strength for her." "The dowager's health is somewhat worse," he informed the reverend stiffly. ![]() More particularly, he couldn't bear any delay.īut the Earl of Spenford always behaved in a manner befitting his position. He couldn't bear to discuss his mother's fragile condition, even with her parson. He turned his neck slightly within the starched collar of his shirt, seeking relief from the constriction. Whether it was the room, or the awkward nature of his mission, he felt hemmed in. The reverend's study was a fine enough room, but smaller than Marcus was used to. Marcus spread his fingers on the arms of the rosewood chair and forced himself to appear at ease. ![]() "I gathered as much from the message you sent." Reverend Adrian Somerton removed his spectacles. Every father in England would be honored to hear those words from him. Marcus Brookstone, Earl of Spenford, was certain his position and wealth more than compensated for the urgent, somewhat irregular nature of the request. ![]()
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