“What’s he going to do then?” Sir Peter asked, frowning. “Follow in his cousin’s footsteps and find himself an heiress?”
Theo shrugged. “He’d probably like to, but unlike Fletch, Piers doesn’t have a title to sell. I believe that's the going rate for an heiress.” Not to mention that, unlike his younger cousin, poor Piers wasn’t exactly the handsomest fellow.
“True, the lack of a title might be something of a problem for him.” Sir Peter sighed. “But he’ll have to do something. A man can’t live on air, and the Fletchers are currently about chin high in the River Tick.”
“He has employment now,” Theo replied. “A post at some ministry or other. One of his uncles on his mother’s side arranged it.”
Sir Peter’s face twisted with disgust. “How perfectly dreary.”
Theo’s father considered any form of work lowering for a member of the aristocracy. Hell, he’d think the position of Prime Minister beneath him. Not that Theo could talk. He didn’t much like the thought of sitting in some cramped little office either. In fact, it made him want to turn and run as fast as he could in the opposite direction.
“So,” Sir Peter said, interrupting his train of thought, “if you’re not staying in London for the season after the wedding, what are you doing?”
“I’m going back to Blackfriars.”
“Blackfriars?” his father said, frowning. “It’s not that long since you were there. Why do you want to go back so soon?”
Theo shrugged. “It’s not Timbuktu, Father. It’s only a week’s ride away.”
Theo had returned to England from the Continent six months earlier to discover he'd unexpectedly inherited an estate in Wales from a bachelor uncle on his mother's side. Theo had only met Stephen Lockhart once or twice as a child, and had been astonished by the bequest. On his first visit, two months after his return to England, he'd discovered the estate comprised a decent-sized house surrounded by land which was presently divided between two tenant farmers. Compared to his father’s landholdings it was exceedingly modest, but for now it provided Theo with a small income from the rents, and when he sold it—which he hoped to do quite soon—he planned on using the money to return to his travels.
“But why go back at all? I mean—Wales?” His father shook his head, all peevish bewilderment. Sir Peter considered anywhere outside of London—or, at a pinch, Bath—to be deadly dull, leaving the running of his own estates entirely to his man of business. His contribution was to spend the income generated as quickly as possible, and to mortgage off parcels of the land whenever his annual income ran out. All of which meant that, when Theo’s older brother, Robin, came into the title, he would mostly inherit a considerable burden of debt.
So, yes, Theo was quite grateful for Blackfriars, as small as it was. And if his first visit there, a few months earlier, had not exactly been a staggering success, he was determined that this one would be more productive.
At least this time he had a clear idea of what he wanted to achieve.
“I rather like Wales,” Theo said, in answer to his father's question. Then, purely out of devilment, he added, “I’ll probably spend more time there in the future.” The lie was worth it for the appalled look on his father’s face. Theo pressed his lips together to hide his amusement.
“For God’s sake, Theobald! Your income from that place must be minuscule! Not nearly enough to begin to pay your own way as a gentleman, never mind take your place in society.”
“It's enough for me to live as I want to,” Theo said lightly, thinking of the very welcome bank draft for a half year’s rents he’d returned to England to find waiting for him. “Anyway, you know I’ve no interest in taking my place in society.”
Sir Peter snorted. “Is that so? And what will you do instead? Dress like some rustic? Visit the local inn in the evenings to drink ale with your inferiors? How on earth will you spend your days? And what young lady will take you as a husband with so little on offer? One of the milk maids? The sort of lady you should be setting your sights on will expect a house in town, not to mention servants and a carriage.”
Theo only laughed. “As I’ve already told you many times, I have no intention of getting married.”
“Nonsense,” his father retorted. “The trouble with you is that you believe that when you marry, all the free and easy pleasures you’ve enjoyed will be over forever.” He raised his brows at Theo, adding, “Not so. Once you find a bride, take a few years to set up your nursery, and then you can return to your old habits, if you like.”
“As you did?” Theo put in, not much appreciating the implication of that—which was silly, because his mother wouldn’t give a hoot. She barely spoke to his father. They orbited one another like distant planets.
Sir Peter ignored his interjection. “You should take a leaf out of young Fletcher’s book. Find yourself a rich heiress.”
“In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not in possession of a title—or likely to ever inherit one.”
“So? You’re the second son of a baronet with a lineage stretching back to William the Conqueror,” Sir Peter said, lifting his chin. “You should be able to secure a lady with a substantial dowry. Enough to set you up in comfort for life. It may not be ideal—obviously, your mother and I would far prefer that you marry a lady of quality—but sometimes one must be practical. And after all, introducing a little plain stock into a more refined bloodline often does much good—certainly for my hounds. I don’t see why people should be any different.”
“I’m sure no heiresses would be interested in me,” Theo said firmly. “They will be searching for far richer prizes.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Sir Peter said. "With all these wealthy Cits clamouring for an entry into polite society, there must be a few young ladies of means seeking out well-born husbands this season. Imagine if you could land one like the Hewitt girl!”
Christ, he made the poor girl sound like a prize salmon.
“Don’t look so horrified,,” Sir Peter said, misreading his expression. “The girl may be common as brass, but apparently, she’s quite prettily behaved. Her father reportedly paid Lady Blackford a fortune to sponsor the chit. She spent a good few months learning how to behave and being kitted out by the best modistes before being introduced to society. I gather the rest of the family were kept out of the way, so as not to ruin her chances. The father practically reeks of the shop floor, and I’ve heard the stepmother can barely speak, but the girl herself isn’t horribly vulgar.” He shrugged. “If you could find one like that, with all her own teeth and young enough to breed a handful of times, you might count yourself very fortunate.”
Theo grimaced. “Yes, well, I have no wish to beget brats, thank you. You have Robin for that, and he seems to be doing a bang-up job of it.”
Theo’s brother, Robin, had married his exceedingly dull wife, Diana, five years previously, and they already had three boisterous male infants.
