“But Theo is—” His mother struggled for words. “She’s a nice girl, of course, but she’s notduchessmaterial.”
“In what way?” he enquired, his voice hardening. It was perfectly true that Theo was, while not ineligible, not the glittering match his mother had hoped for. Her father was too done-up, and she was not endowed with a fortune of any consideration. But now he was committed, he found he would not tolerate criticism of his intended. At least, not to his face; he was well aware his mother would be vocal enough when he was out of earshot. “She is the daughter of an earl whose estate borders mine.”
“The daughter of an earl who is beyond destitute,” his mother snapped. “Everyone knows the Beaumonts don’t have a feather to fly with. They’ll leech you of everything you have.”
“It is fortunate, then, that I am rich.”
“Hardly fortunate when you will abuse your riches in such a way. Besides, you’ve hardly seen the girl recently.”
“Have I not?” Nathanial raised an eyebrow. “How can you be certain I have not been calling on her?”
“Well—” She stopped, frowned. “Haveyou?”
“I’ve seen her more than enough for me to be assured she is precisely the woman I wish to marry.”
“Nathanial,” Elinor said, leaning forward and taking his hand in hers. “Can you look at me and tell me you’re being utterly honest?”
“Of course he cannot be!” The Dowager pressed her fingers against her forehead. “He’s only saying it to vex us for persuading him to marry.”
“I am most certainly not,” he said. “I have every intention of marrying Theo, with or without your approval.”
“When I suggested you consider matrimony,” she said, “I had no thoughts of you choosing a penniless chit of a girl with—is she even in possession of a dowry, Nathanial?”
“It seems rather churlish to care about trifles such as dowries when I have no need of them.”
Elinor frowned at him. “Then youmustlove her.”
“Of all the ladies I’ve had the pleasure of meeting, I’ve only asked one to be my wife. You may draw whatever conclusions from that you will.”
Neither his mother nor Elinor seemed overly pleased with that statement, judging by the thinned lips and narrowed eyes they directed at him, but Elinor at least leant back in her chair. “I suppose it could be worse,” she said.
“Indeed it could! Theo is a dear girl and I have every expectation she will make me a splendid wife.”
His mother sagged in her chair. “She used to run wild in the woods with you at Havercroft, Nathanial.”
“Then she is already familiar with the estate,” Nathanial said, tired of the proceedings and the opposition he had anticipated but did not enjoy. Unlike Whitstable, whom he had positively enjoyed taking down a notch or two, his mother was a different matter. “I need not remind you, of course, that as my wife and a duchess, she will be deserving of every respect.”
His mother bristled, but Elinor laid a hand on her arm. “Theo hasn’t yet fully grown out of her tomboy ways,” she said soothingly. “I’m certain marrying a duke will lay a sense ofwhat’s proper on her head. And consider how handsome their children will be!”
He groaned. “Please, no talk of children.”
“Youwillsire heirs, Nathanial,” his mother said, sniffing. “As for respect—you may be sure I shall do my duty, and I shall becivil, but I don’t like it, and that’s that.”
“Luckily,” he said, his tolerance for his family quite exhausted, “the only people required to like it are Theo and myself. As I know you have every intention of informing Cassandra and Penelope of my decision, Elinor, I shall leave my news in your capable hands. Goodbye, Mama.”
He did not turn to see his mother’s expression as he left the room.
Chapter Five
Mrs Juliet Stanton had been unreluctantly widowed for approximately five years. In that time, she had taken a number of lovers. Not because she had any particular desire for many of them, but because they provided her with comfort and status at very little cost. It left her on the fringe of theton, but there were more important things, such as being able to afford the latest fashions, and having a carriage of her own. Money could buy almost anything, and a gentleman’s pocket was directly linked to his breeches—or so she had, in five years of widowhood, concluded.
One of her more esteemed callers, who never failed to leave a token of his appreciation, was His Grace, the Duke of Norfolk.
It had taken Juliet a long time to dig her claws into him, and she had no intention of letting them slip. When the Duke called, she wasalwaysat home.
“The Duke of Norfolk,” her butler said, bowing her guest into her dressing room. He, as did the rest of the staff, knew she would always receive him. As it was, she had been intending tovisit the opera, and had a dress already laid out, but that could be easily rectified.
“You may go, Mary,” she said to her maid, gesturing for the dress to be taken away. Luckily, she was wearing nothing but a silken dressing gown, and as she turned to the Duke, it slipped off one shoulder. She revelled in the way his gaze marked the movement. “Your Grace,” she said. “What a delightful surprise. Business or pleasure?”
