Eyes open, his attention caught on the page at the edge of the desk. A list of names. A few lines at the bottom. He crossed to scoop it up. “These are the women, then?”
Lethbridge nodded. “He ordered you to sign it, to agree you will marry one.”
William crossed to the fireplace. Behind the clock on the mantel hung the dreariest landscape he’d ever encountered. Beneath, the fire wasn’t lit. That would make the room too inviting. Coals glowed red in the grate, though. Perhaps when he was alone, Lethbridge permitted himself to be comfortable.
Leaning on the mantel, William studied the page. What a list. Diamonds of the first water, to be sure. Women with ice in their veins, all of them. The sort of women a man could never know happiness with, likely not even pleasure. Diamonds had sharp edges, after all.
His eyes caught on a name near the bottom of the page. Lady Lanora Hadler, the archaeologist’s daughter. “You said you drew this up?”
“Your father left it to my discretion, after setting his parameters.” Lethbridge sounded proud.
William cast a look over his shoulder, not hiding his disdain. Lethbridge smoothed back his stringy brown hair, used a kerchief to wipe the oil from his hand. Only the attorney would be proud to be asked to draw up such a list. The marquess’s toady, hopping at the chance to please.
William reread the name. The marquess would never have included Lady Lanora, only child of Robert Hadler, Duke of Solworth, a man much respected by the Royal Society for his work uncovering the secrets of Egypt. The marquess had no use for learned men, even dukes, but especially avoided Solworth. If anyone could uncover the secret of William’s past and tarnish the Greydrake name, it was the archaeologist.
Interest tugged at William. He’d long wished for words with the duke. In Egypt, Solworth worked in parallel with his fellow archaeologist, Mr. Darington. A man William had never met, despite well-circulated information to the contrary. Darington, who lied for the marquess, yet, somehow, was the only man William trusted.
Not that courting Lady Lanora would bring her father. It was common knowledge the Duke of Solworth hadn’t set foot in England in a dozen years. More than that, William had spotted Lady Lanora across many a ballroom. Though she had alluring midnight locks, sculpted features and lush curves, she inspired little desire in him. If women of her caliber had ice in their veins, Lady Lanora’s were frozen solid. It was a wonder she could move, let alone with such grace, given how rigid she was. She struck fear into the hearts of most men. Those who dared ask her to dance generally fled after one set.
William studied the coals in the grate, contemplating remembered glimpses of the black-haired beauty. His gaze caught on a scrap of paper in the ash, and he suppressed a start of surprise. The handwriting, so familiar, couldn’t be mistaken. Darington’s. William knew Darington was a client, referred by the marquess. What could warrant burning?
Surely not the list. Darington wouldn’t have anything to do with such high-handedness. Besides, the man wrote so often of his daughter, William had long since realized Darington hoped for the connection. Reading of her kind heart and generous nature, William often did as well, but Darington’s daughter wasn’t the sort of woman who would make Lethbridge’s list. Too low, and far too kind.
William took the page back to the desk and dropped it onto the dark wood. “None of these women will have me.”
“Perhaps if you mend your behavior.” Lethbridge’s tone was tentative.
William snorted. “The marquess requested a life bereft of sentiment or compassion, lived only for pleasure. Now, he wishes me to appeal to these?” He tapped the page.
“Some would agree for your wealth. Some for your title.”
“What if I refuse?” William sat on the edge of Lethbridge’s desk, carefree demeanor employed with practiced ease. “The old bastard asks much, after all. This isn’t like demanding I flaunt my circumstance among theton. This is marriage. Misery for all my days.” At least, it would be with any of the women listed. His eyes drifted to the fireplace and the words among the ashes.
Lethbridge frowned, craning his head at an uncomfortable angle to look up at him. “Then the marquess requested I inform you he had me draw up a second will. He hasn’t signed it, but he shall, if you do not concede to his demand.”
“Oh?” William drawled. “And what does this dreadful second will do that the first did not?”
“Leaves your half-sister everything but the entailed ancestral lands, which will be bankrupted without the rest.”
“Madelina? She’s sixteen. Who would run the estate?”
“I would.”
Did William imagine the avaricious glint in Lethbridge’s mud-colored gaze? “You,” he repeated, tone flat.
“I will be her guardian until she’s of age, or until I give her permission to wed.” Lethbridge squared his thin shoulders, snapped the stack of papers nearest him straight and set them back in place.
“So, my choices are to thaw the heart of one of these diamonds, or end up a pauper on a bankrupt estate?” William had plans for the marquess’s money. It didn’t surprise him the old man had conjured up a final hurtle.
“That is one way to see it, yes.”
“It is the only way to see it.” William pushed a hand through his hair. “Fine, I’ll marry a debutant off your list. How difficult can it be to find one willing to become a marchioness?”
“Excellent.” Lethbridge opened a drawer and pulled out a neatly trimmed pen. “You made the right choice.” He reached for the inkwell and slid it across the desk to a spot on William’s left. He set the pen beside it.
William wondered if Lethbridge was being thorough or intended to needle him by remembering he was left handed. The marquess considered it a defect in character. He’d paid many tutors to break the habit. Only, William’s writing instructors had failed. In all other matters, William could appear, as the marquess put it, respectable.
His eyes sought the mantel clock. He wasn’t actually one for drinking early, but it was drifting toward midday. Somewhere, outside of Lethbridge’s gloom-filled office, there was daylight to walk through, his club, and a bottle waiting. William felt a greater than usual need for a drink.
