“Lethbridge assured me they are all quality breeding stock. If you get one to bind herself to you, you’ll deserve the wealth that goes along with our name.”
“Then I select Lady Lanora Hadler.”
The marquess eyed him for a long moment. He slammed a palm down on the desk. William didn’t flinch, though the sound ricocheted through the wood paneled room. “Lethbridge.”
“Yes, Lethbridge. That’s what you get for leaving something as important as the Westlock line to a lackey.”
The marquess coughed again, for longer this time. The handkerchief came out, was applied, and disappeared. William watched with avid interest.
“Yes, I’m dying,” the marquess growled. “I’m sure you’ll have quite the celebration when I’m gone.”
“Only as is right to honor your exulted life, my lord.”
“Spare me your insolence. You will not court Solworth’s daughter. You know the risk.”
“If I wed her before she learns I never lived in Egypt, my secret will be doubly safe. She’ll be bound to me. She won’t dare reveal the truth then.”
The marquess drummed his fingers on the desk. He shook his head. “The risk is too great, greater than you realize. Besides, how will you marry the chit? She has what, eighteen years? You don’t have the time to write her father for permission and receive a reply.”
William forced a smile. Damn the old bastard for being right. William hadn’t considered that. “I’ll think of something, never fear. Perhaps a trip to Scotland is in order.”
The marquess grunted. “I’ve heard of the girl. They say she’s as warm as a corpse. You’ll have little luck there. If you wish to set yourself an impossible task, so be it.”
“You think she’ll prove impervious to my charms?”
“She’s Solworth’s daughter. She’ll prove too intelligent to bed you.”
William leaned forward. He took in the deep shadows draped under the marquess’s bloodshot eyes. “A wager? If I can get it in writing, within my twenty days, that she’ll wed me, you set aside this notion of signing the new will. Throw it on the fire.”
The marquess shook his head. “Women have no honor. What’s to say she won’t sign and then back out? No, I want one wedded and bedded before I die.” He fell into another fit of coughing.
“Fine, wedded it is, by Gretna Green, if I must. I put my name to that page and I will honor it, but you will honor the names listed.”
“Do as you will,” the marquess wheezed. “Pursue all the women on the list if you like. Manage to wed one of them, even Solworth’s chit, and the Westlock fortune is yours.”
“You’re too kind, my lord.” William stood. “If you’ll excuse me.”
The brief interview was all the time he could remain in the marquess’s presence before images of his mother, dying, and locked in a cell would fill his vision until it turned red with rage. There had been times before he went to university when only fear kept him from pounding the life from the man. In the years since, that fear had disappeared, leaving behind coiled anger.
The marquess answered with another grunt. He moved the ink blotter and retrieved his pen. William closed the door firmly on his way out.
