“I changed the terms of your inheritance. If you wish to draw from it before you turn forty, you’ll need to marry. And that woman will be of my choosing.”
This was not happening. He needed that inheritance. Drury Lane needed that inheritance. For reasons he wasn’t prepared to consider, Miss Sparrow’s image forced its way into his thoughts.
“Why the hurry?” He’d be damned if he would be forced into marriage before he was ready. Regardless, Felix would return home soon enough. Carter wasn’t a superstitious person, but he would know if something had happened to Felix. He would feel it.
“The duke and duchess and their daughter will be expecting you tomorrow evening.”
“They will be disappointed.” The man was bluffing. Carter would send for his solicitor later that afternoon to confirm just that. There was no way his father could legally alter the trust so drastically.
Carter smoothed the cuffs of his jacket. “Is that all you needed?”
“Don’t test me on this, Edmund Carter.” A hint of doubt shot through Carter at his father’s use of his proper name, something that never failed to make him feel like a child, even after years of independence.
“Felix will return.” Carter waved the threat off. How many times would his father attempt to betroth Carter to an appropriate lady before learning that his third son had no intention of marrying within the ton?
Unless it was absolutely necessary.
Which it wasn’t.
Felix would return before that time came.
“I’m not playing games.” His father rose from his chair, and Carter almost hesitated.
If he had allowed his life to be dictated by the marquess, Carter would already be acting as vicar in some country church, married to a simpering miss, raising half a dozen children by now.
Instead, he was carving out his own legacy—one he’d earned for himself—one he wasn’t even close to finishing.
“Send for me when you hear from Felix,” Carter snapped.
“Don’t force my hand, son.”
But Carter was already out the door. He hadn’t been the man his father wanted him to be for as long as Carter could remember.
That wasn’t going to change anytime soon.
Mother Knows Most
Home from one of her busiest days at the theater so far, Elle ran down the stairs but paused to catch her breath before entering the dining room. Following… the almost-kiss that afternoon, Elle had struggled to focus, and with half her attention on her duties, she’d fallen behind.
Which had her leaving the theater late. And arriving home late. She’d scarcely had time to clean up and dress for dinner.
Fiddling with the lace at her bodice, she mentally practiced her excuse for being tardy and then stepped inside.
“I was beginning to wonder if you were taking dinner in your chamber tonight.” Her mother spoke with just enough accusation in her voice to make Elle squirm.
As per her parents’ usual habit, the table had been elaborately set, covered by a pristine white tablecloth, gold-rimmed plates, sparkling utensils, and gleaming candelabras.
But only two places were laid out this evening.
“Father isn’t joining us?” Elle caught her breath as she took her seat.
“He retired early this evening.”
“Is he ill?” It was odd to think of her father as ill when all her life he’d seemed… immortal.
“I’ve begged him to slow down, but you know how he can be. He overtaxes himself with parliamentary responsibilities.”
“And at White’s,” Elle added with a conspiratorial look at her mother, and then smoothed her napkin on her lap as two footmen presented the first course, artichoke soup.
