The duke looked up at his son, his black eyes depthless. “It is not my fault the man met a coward’s end, now is it? Why should that stop me from getting what I am owed?”
“Money is truly the most important thing in the world to you, is it not?” Richard sneered. It was not as if he did not enjoy the finer things in life. Richard supposed that he used to like them a good deal more before he found out justhowhis father had become so wealthy.
He did not personally have the same ruthless ability to cut people down at their lowest in order to turn a profit. It was not the way that he would run the duchy. Though he also would not fully put it past his father to outlive him out of spite alone.
“Soft,” the duke muttered cruelly with a disappointed shake of his head. “That has always been your problem, boy, and you know it. You have always been far too soft!”
Richard scoffed. He already knew the direction that this conversation was going to go in. It was the same way thatallof their conversations wound up going, in some form or another. No matter how logically he would attempt to present an argument, his father would undermine him at every possible turn. As Richard did not, and would not, look at life in the same black-and-white view as his father, he was weak-willed and wrong.
“Problems are not meant to be handled with yourfeelings,boy. Honestly, you simper more than a woman does. It is why you have not accomplished anything worthy in your life.” The duke huffed and glared at his son. “A disappointment through and through. Coming to me to plead on behalf ofwomen? To what end?!”
“Have you no soul in that blackened heart of yours, Father? Is money and legacy all that you care about?”
Richard flinched as the duke’s fist banged on the desk.
“Some legacy that I have, indeed!” The man’s voice rose as he spoke bitterly. “Honestly, it is just about the only purpose left that you have to serve for me. Since you clearly cannot be useful in any other capacity. It is beyond time that you repay my generosity for whelping you, and that you produce an heir of your own to carry on my bloodline. Perhaps one that is not quite so underwhelming as you.”
Richard knew that his list of personal accomplishments was as long as he was tall. It was not without pride that he dismissed his father’s comments about him. He was confident enough in himself to know that his father would never be happy with an heir that was not the mirror reflection of him.
“You would like that, would you not? A chance to try your hand once more at corrupting the soul of a child? Well, I will never allow that to happen. Even if by some mistake I did have a child, I would do everything in my power to keep it far from you.” Richard laughed humorlessly.
“We both know you enjoy your position and the wealth that you claim to abhor too much to stray from my desires, boy.” The duke sank back into his chair.
“Though, it is amusing that you think you have any choice in the matter. You reside under my roof, and you will abide by my rules, no matter how grown you think that you are. I have plans for you to begin your courtship with your future wife at the Wallingham Place ball. You will be married before the end of the Season, or you will face my wrath.”
“I will not.”
The duke did not bother attempting to object to his words, but merely nodded his head toward the office door in dismissal.
Richard hated himself for the fact that he turned heel and left the room. He would get no answers, he would have no explanations—he would be forced to do as his father said.
He did not wish to marry some random decorated lady of thetonas if he were selecting a prize breeding mare for the racing season. He wished to have a love match, something that had always been so lacking in his life. He wished for something that his father could not corrupt. Something good and pure, all for himself. Just for once. He did not care if she came from thetonor was a person of no means, so long as the connection was genuine.
The few times that he had managed to bring up his desires toward marriage with his father had been wholly unacceptable since the death of his mother, the duchess.
Richard knew better than to risk bringing it up again now.
Chapter 3
Rosewood Haven
“This is for the best, you know,” Catherine muttered. She did not know who she was attempting to soothe at this point: herself or her mother. Arabella sat across from her daughter, gazing out of the window in the coach as she had been doing since the moment that they had finished boarding up the house.
Arabella did not answer with words, only with an indignant sniffle and a tear rolling down her cheek in silent protest. Catherine could not remember the last time that she had seen her mother sitting so still. Usually, she was everywhere all of the time and always simultaneously.
While Catherine could be content with herself and her hobbies, her mother was not that way. While they had always gotten along well, music was the only interest that they truly had in common.
“I will miss the city, I think.” Catherine knew that she said those words for her mother. As much as she had enjoyed her life and full social calendar, she had always enjoyed the quieter beauty of country life.
Though her mother had never liked it much. It was far too small for her. Arabella was the sort of woman who liked nothing more than to have a large house bustling full of people and noise. She liked hosting dinner parties and never sitting still.
The country life was not at all suited for those sorts of things.
“Perhaps we will be able to take some time in making the cottage our own?” Catherine offered. Personally, she was looking forward to removing every trace of her father that had ever been in that place. It was not as if he were some greatly accomplished hunter who had trophies in every room, but there was going to be some mark or another.
“With what money?” her mother finally answered. “All of our accounts have been closed. We no longer have lines of credit anywhere at all. We cannot even afford working dresses. I cannot honestly be expected to…to…garden and tend house in this!” Arabella was spiraling as she gestured to her fine gown. It was one of the only gowns that she had left.
Catherine chose not to bring up the fact that they were also going to have very limited help in their new home—meaning that a lot of the work they were going to have to do themselves. Work that neither one of them truly knew anything about. If they were to survive, Catherine also knew that most of those responsibilities were going to fall on her shoulders.
