Alverleigh, hereditary seat of the Earls of Alverleigh.
England
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“YOU’RE LEAVING?NOW?”Maude, Lady Gosforth trained her lorgnette on her eldest nephew with exasperated indignation.
“I am.”Marcus Renfrew, the seventh Earl of Alverleigh, was in his library, sorting through a small stack of documents on the desk in front of him.Outside a footman and valet were loading baggage into his traveling coach.
“But I only just arrived from Bath.”
“I’m sorry Aunt Maude.Had you notified me you were coming, I might have been able to delay my departure.But I have appointments in the city I cannot put off.Peverill and Cook and several other servants have gone ahead to ready Alverleigh House, but the under-butler and Mrs.Allen and the remaining staff will take good care of you, I’m sure.”His aunt periodically descended on him—invariably without warning and with a purpose of which he was well aware.And so, since he really did have appointments to keep, he saw no reason to delay his departure.
“If you had a wife,shecould take good care of me,” she said pointedly.
Marcus didn’t respond.His aunt managed to introduce the subject of his wifelessness into almost every conversation she had with him.She watched him now, shuffling through papers.
“You’re going to London, I assume.”
“I am.”
“Atthistime of year?”she said with faint emphasis.
“Yes.Why not?”he said indifferently.“The worst of the winter weather has passed, and since there has been little rain in recent days, the roads will be in good condition.”
“Pshaw!I’m not talking about the roads.”
Marcus knew very well she wasn’t.But though he was fond of his aunt, he had no intention of dancing to her tune.No doubt if he stayed at home, within a few days, she would invite ‘friends’ to stay, the kind of friends who brought marriageable daughters, nieces or granddaughters with them.It had happened before.
“It is May, Marcus, and the season is well begun.So, are you going to London to seek a wife?At last?”
“No, I am going to London on business.And as you very well know, the season coincides with the sitting of Parliament, and my presence is required in the Lords, as is my duty.”Marcus selected a document and set it to one side.
“Duty!”She made an impatient noise.“Then while you are there you can begin the search for a wife—which is another of your duties.”
Ignoring her—it was an old song she sang—he concentrated on the documents.
She stamped her foot.“You are one-and-thirty years old, Marcus.It’s high time you married and got yourself an heir.”
“I have several heirs already.”
“Pah!Your brother Nash is in Saint Petersburg, and has no intention of returning to England to live.And don’t tell me Gabriel is next in line because as the Regent of Zindaria, he has his hands full, and will until little Prince Nicky comes of age, which is at least a decade away.So with both heirs out of the country indefinitely, what would happen to the estate if something happened to you?”
Marcus slipped the documents into a slim leather folder.“I understand that Nash’s wife is in an interesting condition and Gabriel’s wife has already given birth to a girl, and may well be breeding again, so the next generation is well on its way, and thus the succession will be secured.Now, while I am gratified by your concern for my continuing health, Aunt Maude, it is time I left.”
“I am not talking about your dratted health,” she said acidly.“You are as healthy as a horse—and just as stubborn—and yes I know it’s mules that are the stubborn ones, but you know what I mean.There are such things as accidents, Marcus, as you very well know.How would the estate fare if you had one?”
“Leaving my brothers aside, I have a number of excellent employees maintaining all aspects of the estate, so if I did happen to slip from this mortal coil, I’m sure everything would continue as usual.I hope that reassures you.”
She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully.“It’s your parents, isn’t it?”
He raised an eyebrow.“I understood they were dead.”
She made an impatient gesture.“You know perfectly well what I mean.Their marriage was a disaster and it has put you off the very idea of marriage.”
“You are mistaken, surely,” he said dryly.“I was under the impression they were passionately in love.”
She snorted.“I wouldn’t call that love.Obsession maybe, and utterly destructive.Their frequent tempestuous quarrels and dramatic reconciliations tore this family apart—literally!—and I know how damaging that was toallyou boys.”Her voice softened.“I know you’ve done your best to repair the damage, bringing your brothers—even Harry—back into the fold and reuniting the family again, and for that I praise you.But Marcus, dear boy, I fear the worst of the damage was to your heart.”
