Chastity frowned again. ‘You say his pockets are to let?’
‘Hasn’t a feather to fly with.’
‘Do you think he’s a good match for Mercy?’
‘What, despite the fact that he hasn’t got the blunt to do even the most basic repairs to his property and has a face that’s likely to give small children nightmares, you mean?’
She narrowed her eyes at him and nodded.
Christian opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again, his brow creased in thought. ‘I think our Viscount has a lot of demons,’ he responded at length. ‘From what he told me, I believe he was the result of an affair his mother had whilst married to his father - and I think saidfathernever let him forget it.
‘As far as I can tell, when his eldest son and heir died, Gerald Harding set about spending every penny he had – mostly on alcohol and gambling if I remember rightly. He left nothing but an almost derelict house and a title.’ He paused and shook his head before adding, ‘I’d thought the title had lapsed to be honest.’
‘Did he tell you how he got his hideous scar?’ The Earl shook his head.
‘Apparently, he told Mercy he received it at Waterloo.’
‘Ah, so he was confiding in her then.’ Chastity narrowed her eyes.
‘I cannot think that meant anything. Clearly, they had to talk aboutsomething.’
Chastity sat in silence for a moment, pulling at the ribbon tying back her hair. ‘So, if we put aside possible Banbury stories, do you think Mercy’s dowry would be sufficient to cover both the repairs to the house and allow him to keep her in relative comfort?’ Chastity asked bluntly.
Christian shook his head at her with affectionate exasperation. ‘I think you’re forgetting one thing, my love…’ He paused as his wife regarded him quizzically. ‘We have no actual idea whether Viscount Carlingford actually wishes to get leg shackled…’
Chapter Twelve
By the following morning, Mercy had come up with a workable plan. Of course, like any plan, it depended very much on the people executing it, and since her plan involved Viscount Carlingford pretending an attachment to her in order to provide an escort while she was in London, well … in truth, it was still a work in progress.
Would he even consider being party to a fake engagement in order to keep her safe?
Certainly, his presence would provide her with the additional protection she needed whilst ensuring she could peruse the current crop of young men on offer without feeling as if she was a prize heifer taken to market. It would also go a considerable way to providing the penniless Viscount funds needed to continue with the repairs to Carlingford.
Which led her back to her original question – would he do it? After all, he’d spent over fifteen years hiding away from the world - mostly because of his awful scar. But, while his face might well provoke considerable speculation, Mercy was persuaded that most women would see past it to the honourable man underneath. So, not only would she benefit, but there wasevery possibility that he would find himself a rich wife. ‘Like me,’ a small voice whispered in her ear.
Naturally, she ignored such a preposterous idea.
She dressed carefully for breakfast, having been told by Felicity Mackenzie - the Duchess of Blackmore’s oldest friend and mentor to all of them – that one should always regard clothing as a weapon to be wielded with careful precision. Today she needed to appear older than her years – both sober and sensible.
Muttering the words like a mantra, she made her way downstairs to the breakfast room where her three half siblings were already enjoying their breakfast.
‘Has somebody died?’ Kate asked, eying her admittedly sombre attire. Mercy looked down at herself with a slight grimace. Had she done it a little too brown?
‘No one’s kicked the bucket,’ Ollie scoffed. ‘If they had, Mama would be wearing black and she has her green dress on today.’
‘You shouldn’t saykick the bucket,’ Kate retorted. ‘Papa will put you over his knee.’
‘Grandpapa says it all the time - and he’s a vicar, so God must have told him it’s not rude.’
‘He says Tare an’ hounds too,’ Kit piped up and Mama says we shouldn’t say it because it has to do with…’ he paused and looked around before whispering, ‘Gambling.’
‘What’s gambling?’ Kate asked.
‘You’re too young to know about such things,’ Kit declared loftily, earning him a kick under the table. ‘Ouch,’ he yelled.
Mercedes sighed, seating herself at the table. ‘Where are Mama and Papa?’ she asked, taking a piece of toast.
‘Papa’s in his study. He said to tell you and Grandpapa to meet him there once you’ve finished breakfast.
