“I would like your permission to offer for Theo,” Nathanial said, judging it best to jump straight to the point.
Shrewsbury jumped, and his brandy sloshed across his breeches. “You want to marry . . . Theo?”
“I know it must come as somewhat of a surprise, but we have been close for a great many years, and I believe she is precisely the sort of wife I want.”
The Earl’s lips mouthed the wordduchess.
“I know how much you value your daughter’s happiness, and considering our fondness for each other, and of course the fact that I would take it upon myself to provide for a family I consider already my own, I am certain you would be happy to accept.”
“Happy to . . .” Shrewsbury swallowed. “This is a generous offer indeed, but I . . . I regret to inform you it is too late.”
Nathanial raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”
“You see, I have already—she has already received an offer.”
“And she has accepted?”
“She has.”
“I see.” Nathanial stretched his long legs out before him. “Considering I already know of her prior attachment to me”—an attachment he hoped Theo would be amenable to agreeing to—“I am inclined to wonder why she might have accepted another man. Who is the gentleman in question?”
Shrewsbury’s face reddened. “The Earl of Whitstable.”
This time, Nathanial didn’t try to hide his disgust. “A man old enough to be her father? I find it hard to believe she accepted his advances.”
“I’ve known you a long time, Norfolk; you should know I don’t take insubordination lightly.”
“If I’m wrong,” Nathanial said coldly, “be so good as to tell me.” For the first time, the Earl looked away. “I have it on excellent terms that she wishes to marry me, and I cannot but feel I will be better suited to her than a man almost three times her age.” His lip curled. “A man, might I add, who has already been married twice over.”
“And what do you propose I do?” Shrewsbury demanded. “Inform him that my word means nothing?”
“You may leave Whitstable to me.” Nathanial would take great pleasure inthatparticular meeting. “Consider your daughter,” he continued. “I do not pretend to be perfect, but I will make her a better husband—and a longer lived one, God willing—than that buffoon.”
“He’s a respectable man,” the Earl spluttered.
“He is taking advantage of a family in need of financial aid, and a daughter obliged to marry the highest bidder.” Reluctantly, Nathanial moderated his tone; much as he wanted to vent his disgust at the situation Theo was in, that was not the best approach. “Whitstable may be a respectable man, but can he make Theo happy? We both know he cannot.” He tucked one ankle over his knee. “And if it comes to a question of whose pockets run deeper, Shrewsbury, consider it a done deal.”
“I take it you would be willing to offer . . . assistance?”
“I understand the requirements expected of me, and rest assured I shall fulfil them.”
The Earl rubbed his face and tossed his drink back. Knowing this was the crucial moment of decision, Nathanial kept quiet. There was something compelling about silence: the strongest place of negotiation came from waiting for the other to cave.
“Very well,” the Earl said after a moment. “Although I expect—I would hope—Whitstable offered me quite the sum.”
“Consider it doubled.”
Shrewsbury choked and smacked his chest with his fist. Nathanial watched him dispassionately. That had been a foolish pledge, considering how fast the money would go, but he would hardly notice the dent. What was more, and considerably more pertinent, he’d already had enough of this interview.
“That is,” Shrewsbury said, spluttering, “extremely generous of you, Norfolk.”
“To win your daughter’s hand, sir, I would be prepared to do anything,” Nathanial said, freely perjuring his soul. “Am I to consider the deal done?”
“As long as you are prepared to—to inform Whitstable. I hardly feel—my reputation, you know, my boy. Wouldn’t want him to feel as though . . .” Feeling himself inadequate to the task of expressing his, no doubt, complex emotions, Shrewsbury lapsed into silence.
Nathanial rose and offered the beleaguered Earl his hand. “Believe me,” he said, a martial light arising in his eyes, “I am more than equal to the task.”
Chapter Four
