The older man sat back in his chair. Although he was approaching seventy, his back remained straight and his eyes sharp. “Pertaining to this issue?”
“Well, three things,” Charles amended. “The next is an aside, if you will, but this situation will put Lady Rosamund at a disadvantage, and I would like to make amends. Can you speak to Uncle Jacob about the prospect of a match between Richard and Lady Rosamund? I think they’d suit. She’s amenable and a highly eligible lady, so I can’t see why he’d refuse out of principle.”
“I’m aware of her eligibility,” his father said dryly. “That was why we recommended her. But I will do so, if you wish.”
“I do.”
His father’s brow quirked, the only indication of surprise—or anything else—he deigned to give. “And you? What is your plan now?”
“I—” Charles tucked his hands more firmly behind his back. “I intend to marry Miss Evelyn Davenport, if she’ll have me.”
Silence, save for the popping fire. Charles knew that was his father’s way, and he kept his peace. Eventually, the duke sighed and unstoppered the brandy. “It seems,” he said as he poured two measures, “we will be needing this.”
“I won’t have you try to convince me otherwise,” Charles said, accepting the glass. “I can’t say if she will accept my proposal, but I will marry no one else.”
“I have no intention of preventing anything, and I doubt I could convince you to entertain any course but your own.” His father’s mouth twitched. “Drink with me, son, and tell me about this newfound resolution of yours.”
“I daresay you’ll think me a fool.”
“I daresay I’ve thought you a fool these past twenty years. But I suspect this will be the making of you. Sit, Charles. You may have boundless energy for striding about, but I do not.”
Charles sank into the chair, leather creaking beneath his weight, and sipped the brandy. “This is good stuff, sir.”
“Miss Davenport, I take it, knows of your aspirations.”
“Actually,” Charles said with a wry grin, “she vowed she would not accept me if I asked. And she has turned me down twice already.”
His father’s brows rose. “Indeed? And still you persist.”
“I do. Before, she did not know—how could she?—that I meant every word. Now, however, I think she will. Or so I hope.”
“And how will you convince her of this?”
“I will tell her I love her, for a start.”
“Ah.” The word was soft, drawn out, almost lost to the crackle of the fire. “That is an admirable beginning. Do you think she loves you in return?”
“Yes.” Though he couldn’t be certain she loved him in the same way a wife loved a husband. She desired him—that much was evident. She trusted him. She loved him enough to have been his friend, even during the worst of his years. Perhaps that love could become more, or perhaps that was all it would ever be. If so, it would be enough—he would make sure of it, if she would just consent to be his wife.
“I know this may come as a disappointment,” he said, draining his glass and putting it down with a decisiveclink. “You wanted me to marry for an heir, and if I marry Evelyn, there is no guarantee she will bear one. Nor would I demand it of her.”
His father looked at him gravely. “It may surprise you to hear that I had not intended you to marry merely so you could treat your wife as a breeding mare.”
“Then why?”
“Because there comes a time in every man’s life when he faces a crossroads and must choose a path. I hoped you would choose yours. It seems you have, at last.”
“And my choice satisfies you?”
“I like Miss Davenport. Your mother and I have long thought you might suit.” His father drained his glass and put it down. “Admittedly, it took you a decade or two longer than I’d hoped for you to come to that conclusion, but now you have, and she remains unmarried. What else is there to do but wish you luck?”
“If you thought for so long we might suit, why didn’t you tell me?”
His father looked at him sternly over the top of his glasses. “Would you have listened? It was my misfortune to raise an unruly, contrary son who had only to hear I had an opinion to do the opposite. If I had recommended Miss Davenport as a prospective bride, I have no doubt you would have cut ties with her immediately.”
Charles crossed his legs and leant back in his chair. “You’re mistaken, Father. Evelyn is the one person I would not have given up for any reason.”
Evelyn tucked her cloak more firmly around herself as she followed her father’s painfully slow progress down the steps to the street and theirwaiting carriage. To her relief, he had decided that he wished to attend the party, which meant that Charles would not be obliged to accompany her.
