“Of course you don’t, but people get sick and accidents happen. I’ll not risk putting Emma through something like that. Better I marry so she can have the life she deserves.”
Tristan hated Iris’s logic, but she was right. By running away they might make things worse, and with a ten year old in tow, it would be a highly irresponsible risk to take. But they couldn’t leave Emma behind either. Not with a father who’d stoop as low as he’d done with Iris.
Somehow he’d have to think of another way out. But first, he had a few words to exchange with his father.
“Very well,” he told Iris. “But I still mean to tell Papa I’m against this. If you’ll excuse me?”
“Of course. Mama is having tea with Mrs. Grisham and won’t be home until later, but you’ll probably find Papa in his study.”
“Thank you.” Tristan bent to kiss his sister’s cheek.
“And Tristan,” Iris said before he managed to leave the room. When he glanced her way she said, “Please look in on Emma afterward. She’ll be in that hideout you built for her in the attic, which is where she’s spent most of her time since my betrothal was announced.”
The anguish those words brought him could not be measured. He’d been gone, content in the misplaced knowledge that he was helping his sisters. While he’d been caught up in romantic bliss with Lilli, they had both been suffering heartache.
He should have known better. He ought to have realized Papa wouldn’t change – that nothing he did to help would make his father a better man.
Furious, Tristan burst into his study. The door flew wide, slamming against the wall. Something rattled and Papa looked up from behind his desk. He stared at Tristan with such apathy Tristan’s anger instantly spiked.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Tristan demanded. He marched forward, planted his palms on the desk, and glared into Papa’s uncaring eyes. “How dare you marry Iris off to a man like Shrewsberry?”
“How dare you burst into my study without a by your leave?” Papa countered, matching Tristan’s tone and glare. “Show some respect.”
“I’ll do so once you’ve earned it. As of right now, however, my understanding is that you’ve squandered the funds I sent and made a deal with the devil in order to dig yourself out of the mess you’ve made.”
“If you’d simply found a suitable heiress, we wouldn’t be having this discussion,” Papa seethed. “Instead, you decided to sully the family name by seeking employment. As if such paltry funds can even begin to cover our cost of living.”
Straightening, Tristan told him bluntly, “They would have helped if you’d saved them and spent them wisely rather than gambling them away.”
Papa shook his head. “I tried, but then the debt collectors came to call. Again. This time with threats to take the house. I had to quadruple the money for even the slimmest chance of having enough to settle all the bills. The taxes owed to the Crown make up the greatest portion. I saw no other way out. In exchange for Iris’s hand in marriage, Shrewsberry will settle my debts after which he’ll provide me with a monthly allowance. In addition to this he will pay for Emma’s debut and ensure she has a substantial dowry.”
“And in exchange he gets Iris.”
Papa hesitated briefly before confessing, “He’ll be getting this property too.”
“What?”
“It’s not entailed, Tristan, and considering the expense he’ll be covering, I had to agree to his terms.”
“In other words, you will in effect become Shrewberry’s tenant?” Tristan muttered a curse when what he really wanted to do was punch holes through walls. Or strangle his father. “And you worried I would bring shame to the family by seeking honest work?”
“No one will know.”
“Oh really? People will simply believe Iris fell in love with a decrepit pervert and that by some miracle your luck turned?” Tristan stared down his nose at the man who threatened to ruin all of their lives. “Nobody is that blind or stupid, so trust me when I tell you the whole world will know you’ve sold your daughter to save your own skin.”
“What the hell would you have had me do?” Papa shouted, his face turning a deep shade of red.
“Anything but this,” Tristan shot back. When Papa didn’t respond, Tristan took a moment to let all the details sink in. Shoving his hands in his pockets he crossed to the window and stared at the garden, where too many weeds revealed the lack of the gardener they’d had to sack.
Beyond the old oak tree he could glimpse part of the farmland that had been in his family for generations. The property was vast, consisting of twenty acres he’d one day been meant to inherit. It now appeared he’d be forced to step aside and let Shrewsberry take it.
His fingers curled into fists. Tension hardened his posture.
No.
Not in this lifetime.
He turned to his father, every hope and dream he’d ever enjoyed aligning themselves until the solution he sought became clear. It wasn’t ideal – there was a good chance he’d fail – but with both love and heritage at stake, he had to give it his best shot.
