“I don’t care what you would rather. It is time you thought about the future of this estate. I have done my best to produce a second son, but none of your stepmothers have achieved what your mother did, so I suppose it is up to you to make certain our line does not die out.”
Algenon clasped his hands tightly behind his back. “Thank you for your vote of confidence.”
“What do you expect? Four years, Algenon. I have given you four years of liberty to find a wife and all you can do is attract that blasted Harris girl.”
Algenon froze, his muscles tensing and his face turning to stone. He knew where this conversation would lead. Years of reminders didn’t fade because one wished it. As long as his father kept a civil tongue in his head, he would endure it. But one derogatory word about Javenia and there would be a rowlike none of the servants had seen since he’d finished school at Cambridge.
Had his father forgotten their long-ago quarrel, the one that had almost led to a round of fisticuffs? Being almost a head shorter than Algenon, his father had backed down, but he had something far more convincing than brute strength.
His father wielded financial and social power over him. Algenon could demand gentlemanly respect, but he could not broker his own freedom.
He worked his jaw back and forth, trying to ease the pain from his clenched teeth. “Miss Harris and I are just friends.”
“As you have always claimed, but she is the only female who has remained constant. You have not maintained any other woman’s interest for more than a month, even though you flirt and flatter more than London’s most derelict rakes.”
Algenon bit his tongue at the reference. The only reason he gave such unfettered praise was to keep his father’s demands at bay. Most ladies had come to expect his syrupy compliments and so dismissed him as a tease. The few that didn’t gave him enough attention to make his father think he was actually trying to fulfill his wishes.
There was, of course, an added positive—Javenia’s set downs. He’d always loved crossing wits with her. That she did not flatter or flirt with him showed her unmatched intelligence. It was no secret that their fathers had forbidden them from ever forming an attachment—even though it was never spoken between them—so why cross lines into dangerous territory?
Immediately his eyes wandered to the window where the chimneys of Hazelwood rose above the trees and a familiar ache settled into his chest. It hadn’t worked. Every time they bantered, he became more attached to her.
“Whatever happened with Miss Weston?” his father asked. “Did you pay a call on her when you were in Reading?”
The change of subject caught Algenon off guard. He focused back on the aging man in front of him, realizing his misstep in having the steward send the accounts by post. Of course his father would expect him to reconnect with the woman who had opened a gulf between him and Javenia.
There was a spark of interest in his father’s eyes that unnerved him. The question was too pointed. Did he know the havoc his request had caused? Javenia had nearly severed their friendship, and all because of a favor his father claimed was for an old friend.
That old friend happened to be the Viscount Falcross; a man with an obscene amount of wealth, little self-control, and even less interest in checking his daughter’s wanton behavior.
Miss Weston had been worse than a viper in the grass, trapping him in plain view before kissing him right in front of Javenia. Unlike other young women who had tried such tactics, she did not want to marry him. No, she kissed for sport, something that had become completely obvious when she made a show of casting a smug look over his shoulder at Javenia.
He’d never forget the look on Javenia’s face for as long as he lived. Pure devastation. It was his first sign that, despite their parents’ decree and their constant bickering, a significant tender regard had formed. In that moment, his heart had swelled with hope only to come crashing down. He doubted she would ever completely forgive him for the unwanted kiss, and it was all his father’s fault.
“Roberts, your silence is not very reassuring. Did you or did you not visit Miss Weston?” His father leaned forward, placing his palms down on the desk.
“I did not,” Algenon bit out. “And I never shall.”
His father pushed to his feet and shook his finger. “This is why I need to choose your wife. Do you think I am ignorant of whathappened in Reading? You kissed the poor girl and then left her to the consequences.”
“Ha,” Algenon barked out. “The only one who suffered consequences was me. No one of her acquaintance saw her accost me, so I must ask how you received such information?”
“It is none of your business.”
Algenon leaned over the desk. “On the contrary. It is only my business, which you are obviously meddling in.”
“That is my right. I have a title to consider. If I do not step in now, you are likely to make a muddle of your life and then where will our family legacy be?”
Like a knife to his gut, the words stabbed him, reminding him how little his father trusted his judgment. No matter how many tasks he completed, no matter how many edicts he followed, he still wasn’t good enough. Why did he even try?
Algenon’s hands shook with bridled fury. He’d allowed his father to have control his whole life with the hope that one day he’d earn his respect, but choosing a wife was the last straw. If his father tried to force his hand, he’d walk away. A life of poverty would be preferable to a life chained to the wrong woman.
“I will not agree to such an arrangement,Your Lordship.” He drew out the honorific, his lip curling with disgust.
“You have no—”
“Papa.” Phillipa burst into the room, Charlotte close on her heels. “We are going into Maidstone, but we have run out of pin money.” She clasped her hands in front of her chest and her lower lip jutted out. Charlotte followed suit. Just like that, the air in the room shifted.
Their father moved his hands behind his back, as if he was hiding his previous ugliness out of view of hispreciousdaughters.
