“Her family will be amenable to our wishes.” It was his uncle who answered.
Her family?
Poor chit. Or perhaps not. Perhaps she knew exactly what she was getting herself into.
Again, Dev conjured up the lovely Miss Babineaux. She embodied all that was feminine. Her groom, no doubt, eagerly looked forward to their wedding night. He would be wise to provide her with the moon and the stars.
If he didn’t, he’d be a fool.
“The lady best not take issue…” His uncle spoke in a stern voice. “…for all the blunt we’ve put up to secure this charade.” Delightful. Such pleasantness that could only be Prescott. And a charade it was to be? The puzzle pieces logically fell into place now.
“It is an arranged marriage, then?”
Harold laughed ironically. “Did you think I’d fallen madly in love?” Harold had never been a happy person, even as a lad. “Father wants to move the date up. I’ve resigned myself to the institution, and yet it is still not sufficient for his grace.” Tension had flared between Harold and his father for years now. Dev doubted they would ever get past it.
“With everything settled, with the first installment paid, I’ll have a bride for you, and I’ll not wait.” Harold’s frown grew deeper as his father spoke. “The sooner we ease your mother’s worries, the better. What does it matter to you? It’s not as though it will change anything.” Ignoring his son’s obvious reluctance, the duke scribbled some notes on the ledger before him. “Besides, the announcements have been sent. The first of the banns are to be read Sunday.”
Another example of why Dev did not dwell in Prescott House.
Harold’s shoulders drooped in sullen defeat. “Does Mr. Scofield know? Does she?”
“Mr. Scofield is as eager as I to have this done. You may inform her tomorrow night at the theatre. They are to attend as our guests, of course.” Prescott’s disdain insulted his son more than a raving tirade would have.
“Do join us, Dev.” The duchess spoke up, dispelling some of the tension. She’d grown rather adept at that, soothing over the ruffled feathers created by her husband and sons. “Welcome her into the family with us.”
Dev nodded, sorry for his cousin. What a twisted world this was…
“What is it that’s brought on this visit, Devlin?” His father’s question broke into Dev’s thoughts. “Not that we aren’t pleased to be graced with your presence.”
So, his would be a family discussion after all. No reason to hem and haw, then.
“I’ve sold out. Signed the papers on an estate in the country, and as of this morning am a landed gentleman.” He would not soften the blow, so to speak. It was not his way.
He expected disappointment. He knew his uncle nurtured hopes of him achieving the status of colonel. He was less certain as to what his father’s reaction would be.
The room fell silent for a moment before his aunt stepped forward and embraced him. “I am so glad!” She effused her approval.
But Dev kept his eyes upon his father. He tried not to be concerned with pleasing family, but his father’s good will mattered.
Prescott reclined in his chair. “I would have provided an estate for you — something to cut your teeth on. In the country, you say? You’ve not much experience with land stewardship.”
But Dev’s father rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “You have earned it, I’m certain. You’ll learn the way of the land, the ways of the people. I know that you will succeed in whatever you set your mind to.”
Dev let out a breath he had not realized he’d been holding. He’d warred with a few niggling doubts. Was he taking the coward’s way out? He knew this was not the case, and yet… His father’s blessing reassured him of his decision.
“So, you will not be leaving England for months at a time? This is wonderful news! We won’t have the constant worry for your safe return. And we will once again have your company for the holidays, and for birthdays. Oh, Prescott…” She turned toward her husband. “…this is wonderful news indeed.”
St. John finally stepped out of the darkness. He was tall, slim, and Dev thought, more duke-ish than his father. “Well, if we aren’t to toast Harold’s wedding, then perhaps we ought to toast Dev’s new status.” He poured a splash of scotch in a short glass and handed it over. The others already held some sort of drink in their hands. “To Dev,” they all said.
“To Dev,” Harold echoed.
The drinks were tossed back heartily.
Wonderful.
* * *
When Miss Mossanthad first hinted to Dev that the ladies would be in the park this afternoon, Dev had thought it would be unwise to accept the bait.
