Perhaps he was acting too hastily and should check the temperature of those in the room.
“What do you think, Colleen?” West asked, turning his gaze to his sister.
“What she thinks doesn’t matter,” Haven spluttered, utterly affronted. “I have shared where the Havens stand.”
Gritting his teeth, West stared him down before answering. He had never liked his sister’s husband, who their father had chosen for her due to his sterling reputation and eventual earldom, and Haven was certainly not gaining his favor now with the controlling nature of his relationship with Colleen. “But as my sister is the Beaumont between the two of you, I’d like her to speak for herself. I value her opinion,” he finally replied.
Colleen remained calm throughout the exchange, but West observed her trying not to squirm as Haven placed his hand firmly on her shoulder, reminding her of her place before answering.
“I agree with you, brother. I think we need to leave this horrible business behind us as soon as possible,” Colleen said in a soft yet clear tone, determinedly looking at West and away from her husband.
“Anyone else have objections to moving forward now, rather than waiting?” he asked after nodding to his sister.
The room was silent, nine pairs of eyes fixed on him. Not used to having a say under his father’s lead, everyone who hadn’t already spoken seemed hesitant to voice an opinion. But off to the side, West noticed his brother fidgeting. John clearly had something to say, but knowing his brother as he did, West also knew he would not speak up without prompting.
“John, what about you?” he asked gently.
Looking a bit startled at being singled out, John cleared his throat. “I agree we need to dissociate with such business as quickly as possible. But how do you propose will we earn enough to maintain the estate, let alone make the needed improvements?”
“You’ll help me,” West answered frankly. John looked at him with a trace of concern, his eyes questioning. “Not just youspecifically, but all of you. We all have different skills and talents that have been wasted, as father wouldn’t allow anyone to do anything that even resembled work, heaven forbid it make us look ungentlemanly. But we can use those skills now to improve our position. I’ll not allow the estate and our tenants to languish simply for the sake of appearances.”
A smile crossed his uncle’s face as he gave a small nod of approval.
“John,” he continued, still focused on his brother, “you’ve always been excellent at numbers and figures, and I know you keep abreast of business affairs. I want you to take the bit of capital we do have and invest it as you see fit. I’m trusting you to find something with a good immediate return, as well as prospects that will benefit us over the long term. Can you do this?” John swallowed visibly but nodded in agreement.
“Good. Next”—West swung his head to look at his cousin Ethan—“I’d like for you to bring me up to speed on modern farming techniques.” Ethan’s eyes lit up at the proposal. West recalled that, though a practicing lawyer like his father, Ethan had always been interested in working with the land and animals, overseeing much of the horse breeding operation on his family’s estate.
“Happy to,” Ethan said with a wide smile. “There’s a lot that can be done with only a small investment.”
“And I’ve already spoken to Uncle John about representing the family holdings again as our solicitor. I welcome other ideas any of you might have.”
“Hampton . . .,” his mother queried hesitantly from her seat on the settee he’d been eying earlier.
Stifling a curse born of frustration, West asked his mother once again, “Please call me West, not Hampton.”
“It’s your title now, dear. It’s only proper.”
“Yes, and you may address me as such in public. But here in our home, I wish you’d call me by my name—as you’ve done for the first thirty-two years of my life.”
They’d been having this argument since the day he had ceased being simply West Beaumont and instead became known as Robert Westley Beaumont III, third Marquess of Hampton. After a year, he was slowly adjusting to the title and almost always responded to Hampton on the first call these days, but he still chaffed at the formality of it, especially since courtesy titles had yet to be bestowed upon the Hampton line, and West had always been a Beaumont. At least with the high rank of marquess, all offspring are granted the privilege of the titles ‘lord and lady’, so he was already accustomed to being ‘my lorded’.
“Whatever you say, dear,” his mother replied, head bowed as she smoothed nonexistent wrinkles from her skirt.
He immediately felt guilty for berating her in front of the family. West knew he needed to be patient with his mother. His father’s near obsession with propriety and respectability was ingrained in all of them, and it was taking time to learn to relax and take life as it came. While he didn’t believe that his mother was overly concerned with appearances herself, years of being reprimanded for even the smallest of social infractions left her fearful of judgment and aware of always being observed. And now here he was behaving in much the same way.
“What was it you wanted to say?” he asked her gently.
Looking back up at him, she took a deep breath. “I know you may not be thinking about this just yet, but you are the marquess now, and you will need to marry. It might be helpful to look for someone this season. A large dowry could be the answer to many of the issues facing the estate.”
“I’ll consider it, but I hardly want money to be the sole reason for choosing a wife.” West loathed the way many aristocratic marriages were arranged for social and financial gain. Theyseldom led to contentment. He only had to look at the marriages around him to see the evidence. His mother and father had rubbed along together, but only just, and his sister did not seem to be bubbling over with joy in her union to Haven.
The only happy couple in the room was Uncle John and his wife, Margaret, who had married for love. But it was that union which had driven the two brothers apart, his father not approving of Margaret as a worthy match for his brother. For twenty years the family had been separated due to such standards—and as a result, today was the first time he was meeting his own cousin, their daughter Nathalie, who had just turned nineteen.
His mother nodded but did not appear pleased. West rubbed at his temple again, his headache growing. “Why don’t we call it a day. Thank you all for joining me here tonight and for hearing out my plans for the estate and our family moving forward. I want us all to be a whole unit again, and I look forward to seeing everyone more once we all return to town next week for the season.”
As everyone began to rise, West approached his uncle. “I’d like to meet up with you in your London offices next week and go over everything in more detail.”
“Of course, just send me a note once you arrive. Margaret, Nathalie, and I are heading back right away, so we’ll arrive before you. I can have the Hampton town house prepared for your arrival if you’d like.”
