He smiled, glad she seemed to know Caroline’s character so well. “Indeed, she is neither of those things.”
“Tristan,” Mother said again, her nerves sounding more frayed. “Speak plainly.”
“It is a delicate matter,” he hedged.
“The Whitbys are our friends,” Father said. “You can trust we will not repeat anything you say in confidence.”
They were saying everything exactly as they ought. He could not have planned a better conversation. Whether that was indicative of how well he knew his parents or howpredictable their motives were mattered little. He believed it was going to work.
Tristan held the seat as they rumbled over a bumpy patch in the road. “They lost nearly everything. James is doing his best to work with a man of business and correct their situation, but if they do not marry money, they could very well lose their estate.”
Mother drew in a compassionate gasp. “Oh, that poor family.”
“Rotten business, by the sound of things,” Father said.
Tristan agreed. “Even if Caroline chose me, it is very probable her father would not permit my suit. He needs money, and I cannot provide it. I only have the house to my name, and even that is not mine. It belongs to you.”
Mother was silent.
“Mr. Whitby has known you all your life, Tristan,” Father said. “Surely your character will speak for you.”
“I do not believe he is opposed tome, only my lack of funds.”
“That is ridiculous,” Father said. “You have plenty?—”
“Richard,” Mother snapped. “Be mindful of what you say.”
“Deborah,” he retorted. “The boy has a right to know.”
A deep and anxious foreboding filled Tristan’s gut. He was being bounced around the carriage seat, but found he did not care. “What is it?”
His parents shared a look. Mother sighed. “I might not have been entirely honest with you in the past.”
If she was preparing to inform him that he would not receive Marblegate House, as he had originally supposed, he did not know what he would do.
“When we realized your brother would inherit the estate and the income attached to it, we separated MarblegateHouse for you,” Father explained. “We also set aside a sum of money to come to you when we die.”
Tristan’s heart had been pumping wildly, but now it went mad. “A sum of money,” he repeated.
“Five thousand pounds.”
Tristan felt the floor fall out from under him.
“It was meant to provide you an income so you might support a family once we were gone,” Mother explained. “For the time being, Father and I will keep up the house and your quarterly allowance.”
“Yet you did not want me to know of it?”
“Not intentionally.” Mother frowned. “At the time we spoke of it, I had hoped you would court that wealthy young woman with the red hair…Miss Greene, perhaps? Ghering? I cannot recall. I thought if you believed you needed a wife’s dowry to continue living at Marblegate, you would be more enticed to propose. Never did it occur to me that it would stand in the way of a marriage.” She giggled. “Though now I can see how foolhardy that assumption was.”
Tristan would not use such blunt phrasing, but he couldn’t deny the amount of stress and concern he had needlessly endured was frustrating. He could not even recall the red-haired woman Mother spoke of. It must have been a passing fancy of hers. He knew Mother had the best of intentions. She wanted to see her sons married, with good reason, and she never schemed with evil intentions. This was just one more foolish thing she had done with his best interests in mind.
He was glad when the carriage came to a stop and the groom let the step down. He pulled his coat tighter as he left the carriage and followed his parents up to the house he would one day inherit—with five thousand pounds.
What would Caroline say to that? Indeed, Mr. Whitbycould have nothing to say against his marrying Caroline now, surely. He would have the funds he needed if James married Kitty, and Caroline wouldn’t enter an impoverished marriage.
Tristan rubbed a finger absently over his lips. The only thing left for him to do was ask for her hand.
Chapter Twenty-Three
