“Not if you continue as a wastrel. One day you’ll find yourself at the wrong end of a pistol when a husband catches you with his wife.”
Lord Barton’s jaw worked. “And what will you do with this new wife once you have your spare, Father? Surely you don’t intend to bring her round to London for a Season? The gossips would delight to have her among their ranks. There would be no end to tales of Lady Eve talking to herself or staring into dark, empty corners.”
Eve froze. Hiswife? But that would mean…
“I’ve spoken to her father. He assured me that no one else in the family suffers from her… affliction. She won’t pass it on to a child. We’re drawing up the marriage contract tomorrow. Once she’s given me a son, I’ll tuck her away in one of our lesserestates.” Another gentleman called Viscount Barton’s name and the two men moved away.
Eve wrapped her shaking hands around her waist. Her father was drawing up a marriage contract with a man she’d never met? A man who would breed her like a mare, then put her to pasture where no one could see his addled wife? Was she to become as mad as her grandmama?
“Whyever are you hiding behind a plant?” Aunt Cecily asked when she found Eve moments later. “What is it, dear? You’re pale.”
“I overheard someone say that father intends to draw up a marriage contract for me.”
Cecily flushed. “I had hoped you might find a young man to your liking at the ball tonight.”
Eve choked on a laugh that held no humor. “The young man to my liking is hisson. Viscount Barton is older than Father.”
“I’ve heard Lord Charles Barton is courting Miss Fairchild. But Eve, this could be your chance for a family. Many young women marry older men. They have children who fulfill them when their husbands are otherwise occupied and find much happiness in their lives.”
Occupied with their mistresses? Or their dotage? “Is love so rare then?”
Cecily sighed softly. “There are many kinds of love. Love of friends, of family, and sometimes when a woman is lucky, passionate love. But a young woman from an aristocratic family ought not set her heart on it.”
Whatever was she to do?
“There’s your father,” Aunt Cecily said. “I think he’s speaking with Viscount Barton now. Let’s go make his acquaintance. You might take a fancy to him.”
A few hourslater, Eve had not taken a fancy to him. Quite the opposite. He spoke to her as if she were a child, never asked her for a dance, and made no effort to come to know her. It seemed quite clear that her family’s money was of more interest to him than her. How could she marry such a man? She’d be expected to share the marriage bed until he got her with child, then by his own admission, he’d lock her away someplace where she couldn’t be an embarrassment to his family name.
“Please, Father. I don’t wish to marry Viscount Barton,” she said as they arrived home. Though her father was a good man, he had little time for a daughter he considered addled.
“Don’t speak such nonsense. Viscount Barton is an excellent match.” Her father handed his greatcoat, hat, and gloves to their butler. “Far better than you could do otherwise, I’ll warrant.”
“Have care, dear brother,” Aunt Cecily said. “Eve would like to choose her own husband. She has that right.”
“Not when it comes to our family. I’ll not allow a simple fool to make decisions that could ruin us.”
“Does the viscount bring so much to the match?” Eve asked.
“Eve, marriage to the Barton family would give you and your sons a better title. He’s offered to let me invest in his shipping company which will increase our family’s standings and provide further security to your aunt and me.”
“Don’t include me in this,” Cecily murmured. “You know perfectly well that my husband left me well cared for upon his death.”
“And Lord Barton is heir to the title,” Eve added. “Any child I have would never inherit the viscountcy.” His reasoning made little sense unless the investment in the shipping operation was his true motivation for securing this match.
Her father waved away her objection. “The Barton heir is nothing more than a young buck with dangerous proclivities.The viscount has a right to be worried about his title. I shouldn’t be surprised if the boy lived to see his next birthday.”
Eve gasped. What a horrid thing to say. “Father!”
“Enough, Eve. I’ll hear no more of this. You’ll do your duty to your family with no further objections.”
“But—”
“Do not force me to compel you, daughter. You will not like the consequences.”
“Roland!” Cecily said.
“Another word and you may be on your way home, Cecily,” he growled.
