“And you find that unacceptable?”
“No. Not at all. I’m glad of it for her sake,” he admitted. “I think she will need it.”
She nodded. “I did not take to Wakeham. He seems a charmless and unpleasant man.”
“Neither did I.”
Diane looked uncomfortable. “When we were upstairs, Madeline told me how much she wanted to go to London for the Season. And hoped that her aunt might be her chaperone. But her uncle refused even to consider it. She pines for some gaiety. I feel so very sorry for her. I suppose there is nothing to be done?”
“We cannot interfere. It is none of our concern. In any event, I must leave for London tomorrow to consult the bank manager. I’ll remain for their answer to my request for a mortgage. The quicker I show some improvements here, the faster I will receive my inheritance.” He eyed her. “Father was a darn skinflint where I was concerned.”
“Apparently, his finances have been sadly depleted for some time.”
“Father could have put the colliery in Newcastle-on-Tyne up for sale, although the Heaton Colliery disaster in ’15 might have made it hard to find a buyer a year ago. I will advise my solicitor to sell Grandmama’s Devon estate.” He frowned. “Why the devil didn’t he tell me he was in such bad straits? The last time I saw him, he said nothing about it. Just the usual carping, which only served to get my back up.”
“I suppose he thought you needed to…to find your way.”
He returned his cup to the saucer and sat back, observing her, aggrieved. Then he shrugged, abashed. “I wish my relatives didn’t feel I need improving. I am not a wastrel.”
“You are not,” she said soothingly. “But you’ve been enjoying your time in London, have you not? I’ve heard the gossip. It’s been on everyone’s lips since you became marquess. How you are one of the most desired bachelors in London. That is true, although much of your inheritance is at present tied up. You are not judicious, Hart, you must admit. I was also told you gave money to one of your previous lovers when she fell into debt.”
“How do you come to hear such things?” He shook his head, disconcerted. “Is it time for me to pay the fiddler?”
“You could solve your immediate problems by marrying a wealthy woman.”
He scowled. “Marry an heiress for her money? That’s not for me.”
“Then don’t consider Madeline.”
“I wasn’t…” he blustered.
“No? I saw how you looked at her. She is very attractive. I’m not sure how she is placed financially, but I am sure her father would have left her a generous dowry. It’s doubtful her ghastly uncle would agree to a proposal before she’s out, though. And she has told me there are no immediate plans for her debut.”
Hart rubbed his hand along his jaw, feeling the prickle of stubble. “She should make her curtsey to the queen this year.”
“Does that mean you might consider her when she’s made her come-out?”
“No. I must marry soon. And I shall choose a bride who fits into my life and causes little change.”
“A lady who never crosses you?”
Hart laughed. “Precisely.”
“Even when you are wrong?”
He raised an eyebrow. “I am rarely wrong.”
“How mind-numbingly dull.” Diane yawned. “I’m sure you’ll write and tell me when you become engaged to some milk-and-water miss. Forgive me. I simply must retire. I leave first thing tomorrow. My dear ones will be missing me. And I’ve promised to take them to the local fair on Saturday.”
“Thank you for coming and for your invaluable help, Di. I appreciate it very much.”
“No need. It was a pleasant change from my domestic life.”
She should remarry, he thought, but didn’t express it. Diane was too young at twenty-nine to spend the rest of her life alone. But she had dearly loved Edgar. For some people, there was only one true love. With a brief smile, he rose from his chair. His thoughts took a remarkably romantic turn tonight. “Give my love to Tom and Charlotte. I hope to see them soon.”
She rose with him, and they walked to the stairs. “Make sure you do.”
“Are all older sisters nags?” he asked conversationally as she climbed the stairs.
