Sir Abstrupus didn’t appear bothered. “Of course, you’re all welcome to stay at the Château as our guests.”
“Your hospitality is much appreciated.”
Sir Abstrupus gifted him with a royal nod.
In a flash, it occurred to Bran that Artemis wasn’t the only person with whom he needed to make amends in Yorkshire. He needed to say something to Sir Abstrupus, too. Something he should have expressed a while ago. He cleared his throat. “And I appreciateyou, Sir Abstrupus.”
His host tilted his head, his sharp birdlike blue eyes singly focused on Bran.
“And all you’ve done for me.”
Sir Abstrupus nodded in a manner that implied more words were expected.
“I was at my lowest,” continued Bran, “and your invitation to train Radish was the swift kick I needed to pull myself up.”
“Yes, it was.”
Still, Sir Abstrupus waited for him to say more.
“And I sincerely wish to thank you.”
Sir Abstrupus nodded once and seemed, at last, satisfied. “Perambulate the ballroom with me,” he said. “I have a matter I wish to discuss with you.”
Bran hesitated. His experience of Sir Abstrupus when the old rogue had a matter to discuss tended to result in a one-hundred-and-eighty degree revolution in his life, and presently, Bran felt himself on a decent trajectory—with one rather substantial caveat, of course.
That he could convince Artemis to spend the rest of her life with a dunderhead for a husband.
For that possibility to hold true, however, another possibility had to exist as its counterpart—that she’d had enough of him and would sayno.
In such a case, it only followed that he was on a bad trajectory.
Anyway, it wouldn’t be a terrible idea for him to brace himself for what Sir Abstrupus had to say.
It wasn’t until they had completed a full turn of the ballroom and had begun their second that Sir Abstrupus spoke. “I don’t know if it has occurred to you, Bran, but I shan’t live forever.”
Actually, it hadn’t occurred to him. But he couldn’t very well say that. “I’m sure you have yet another ninety years in you.”
Sir Abstrupus turned a sharp blue eye onto him. “You are my heir.”
The roar of organ music and gaiety faded, as if they’d suddenly retreated into the far distance. “I beg your pardon?” Bran asked, hardly able even to hear himself speak.
Sir Abstrupus paid no heed to the question. “But your inheritance hangs on a single condition.”
Ah.Now Sir Abstrupus was sounding more like himself. Nothing ever came for free with him. “And what is that?”
Sir Abstrupus didn’t blink. “That you marry Lady Artemis Keating.”
Was it possible the old scoundrel was playing a jape on him?
The seriousness of his gaze indicated otherwise.
Further, he was waiting for Bran to respond.
Somehow, he found words. “You can’t control what happens between two people.” In fact, those two people could hardly control it.
The lift of a single eyebrow communicated that Sir Abstrupus wasn’t impressed by this explanation. “Think of all the land and wealth that will come into your possession with the marriage.”
Bran saw what Sir Abstrupus was attempting to do—control the world, or, at least, his corner of it. He shook his head. “It’s not that simple.”
