“When you said you were going to marry my daughter, I did not expect you to act this quickly.” Charnock watched his butler pour drinks. “I have respect for a man who goes after what he wants.”
The library contained very few books and the ones on the shelves appeared to have been in the family for ages. It was a room for men to gather.
Roman waited until the manservant had left and closed the door before answering. “It is not love, if that is what you are asking.” He spoke briskly, placing the truth out in front of them.
“Of course not. It rarely is, no matter what the blithering poets say. Look at my wife. I despise her.” Before Roman could think of a response to such a startling statement, Charnock raised his glass. “To your good intentions, my lord.” He downed his drink.
Roman watched Charnock swallow good whisky as if it was water with a sense of wonder. He’d been around drinking in his time. Soldiers were not ones to let their thirst go unquenched, but the indulgences he witnessed amongst the fashionable set would have made even sailors admit they’d been mastered.
He thought of Leonie entering the receiving room looking like Venus brought to life... with brandy breath.
What was he setting himself up for?
His stepfather would warn him to apply logic. If he did not like Charnock’s drinking, and he already knew the daughter had a taste for spirits, well, could he make peace with that?
“I suppose you are interested in her dowry,” Charnock said.
Roman decided in that moment, yes, he could sleep with a riverfront slattern if it gave him the money he needed for Bonhomie, and Leonie was a far cry from that description. “It is of significance,” he agreed.
Charnock grinned. One of his front teeth was crooked. “We could engage a lawyer for this, but why? We are both reasonable men.” He walked over to a desk by the window and set down his glass. He pulled a piece of paper from a drawer and dipped a pen in ink. He began writing.
Roman could almost hear Thaddeus say he was a fool to be making any legal arrangements without him.
Blowing on the ink to dry it, Charnock said, “Actually, I am pleased that you will marry my daughter. You almost have a responsibility to do so, you know.”
“And why is that?”
“Because of that bad business in India.” Charnock reviewed what he’d written while saying offhandedly, “Yes, you involved her in a scandal that might have been avoided with a deft hand.”
“Do you think?” Roman challenged, his voice reflecting a calmness he did not feel. What the devil was with Charnock? If he knew the truth, he’d be polishing Roman’s boots in gratitude.
That is, if he knew what such an emotion was.
Charnock didn’t hand the paper over to Roman. “It is almost justice that you marry her. She made a very unwise decision. Young girls will do that. However, now she will have you to keep her in line.” He punctuated his words by handing the offer he’d written to Roman.
“Fifty thousand pounds dowry,” Roman read aloud, almost not believing the amount. He stared slack jawed at the number.
With fifty thousand pounds, Roman could pay off his late uncle’s gambling debts and do whatever he wished to Bonhomie. And he could take care of his family—his parents and his sisters. Thaddeus’s suggestion to marry was genius.
“Have I made it worth your name, my lord?” Charnock asked.
Roman found his voice. “It is good.”
Charnock grinned as if he knew Roman struggled to contain his enthusiasm. “I want my blood to inherit your title.”
“If your blood is in your daughter, then that will happen.”
Unfortunately, his statement struck the wrong chord with her father.“Of course she is mine.”Color rose to his face and Roman realized he had insulted him.
Too late, Roman remembered the gossip that Leonie didn’t look anything like her father. Even Thaddeus had mentioned how different her features were. His voice calm, he answered, “I did not mean to imply she wasn’t.” But he did wonder why Charnock was touchy?
Her father glared as if he trying to divine Roman’s thoughts, and then he visibly relaxed. He lifted his glass to show it was empty. In a lighter voice, he claimed, “You may have misunderstood me, my lord. I was not offering a challenge.” He moved back to the table with its row of decanters. “Would you like another?”
“I am fine, thank you.” Roman looked down at the paper almost unable to believe his good luck.
“Don’t stare at that number too hard,” Charnock advised. “Your eyes will cross. Once you marry, the funds will be made available to you.”
Roman could never have imagined fifty thousand pounds in his accounts. He was going to need to dream again,bigdreams.
