“Ah.” The tragic twist almost left him ashamed.Almost.“Groom two?”
“Viscount Cartwright. On the eve of their wedding, Cartwright fought a duel to protect his mistress’s honor and then fled with said mistress to the Indies. My father demanded a pecuniary heart balm from Cartwright’s father, the Earl of Merriweather. The fund is in trust, with Katherine the beneficiary.”
That, he recalled. Or at least he recalled that some familial event had caused Merriweather to miss an essential Tory vote.
“An unfortunate association,” he commented, “but not of her doing.”
Markham sipped his drink and then continued, “Speculation turned to Katherine following Brummell’s quip—lurid speculation.”
Bromton’s hold on the portrait tightened until his pulse beat in his fingers. “Since she removed from Society,” he asked, “has there been any scandal attached to her name—any at all?”
“No.” Markham turned to the fire, his expression a mix of frustration and affection. “For five years, she’s assisted in the stewardship of our,” he swallowed, “that is to say, the family’s estate. She raised our youngest sister, resolves most estate concerns before they reach me, and even teaches weekly reading classes to the tenants’ children.”
“Sounds like an ideal arrangement. Why involve me?”
“When I marry, as you know I must—she will lose all authority.” Markham looked up. “If she stays, she will be miserable.”
“So, you contrived to give hermyestate to manage?”
Markham stopped breathing, and then he nodded. “You are,” he pointed out sheepishly, “in want of a marchioness…and…and I truly believe the two of you would suit. She’s a good sort once you get to know her.”
Well. The pup wasn’t trying to rid himself of the problem of a dependent sister. He was trying to secure her a utile future.
A utile future stewarding the Bromton estate.
Bromton had devastated the hopes of Lady Clarissa and her brother, who’d believed Bromton would fulfill the late marquess’s wish and make Clarissa marchioness. He’d cheated in order to transfer the estates to Markham, and he’d prepared for life as an outcast. Could he, instead, bet the whole on a woman? And not just any woman but a woman whose character had been called into question?
His signet ring flashed in the candlelight, an ominous reminder of infidelity’s cost. He snuffed out his unease. The prospect of retaining his position and power left him nearly panting with hope.
“I assume,” he smiled without mirth, “Lady Katherine will agree to your scheme.”
“God, no!” Markham exclaimed. “She’d be horrified if she knew I’dwonher a groom. The last time I interfered ended in disaster.”
Wonderful. “So how, exactly, do you expect me to win her hand?”
“To start, I…I thought you could return with me to Southford.”
“…and sweep your unwilling sister right off her spinster feet?”
“Something like that.” Markham had grace enough to blush. “However, if you succeed, I swear you will never find another woman equally loyal.”
Loyal—the word ricocheted through his mind, as if spoken in a language he did not understand. He inhaled, filling his lungs. Oddly enough, the hellhounds’ howl had stopped. He’d spent months severed from his very essence while his former pride mocked at every turn; he could have wept with gratitude for the silence.
What stronger enticement could he imagine?
He slipped the miniature into his waistcoat pocket without asking Markham if it was his to keep. A shiver spiraled up his spine—fate’s blessing or a warning? Either way, he hadn’t a better option. Blood, honor, integrity…he was about to bet the highest of stakes on the most unmarriageable woman in the land.
“I do not appreciate being manipulated,” he said.
“But you will agree?” Markham asked.
“I’ll attempt to relieve you of your spinster sister—”
“Thank you,” Markham interrupted.
“On one condition. Should the anticipated nuptials fail to happen, you will take possession of Bromton.”
Markham frowned. “Why?”
