Returning to his chair, Daniel said, “Now, where were we?”
Nervous, Anthony regarded the earl a moment before he said, “Despite her having proposed to me, I thought it best I ask your permission for her hand. I already have the late earl’s permission—he gave it yesterday in the park.”
“We’re well beyond that now, Breckinridge,” Daniel stated. “We’re onto the matter of her dowry. Thirty-thousand pounds if you take her to wife before the end of April.”
Anthony’s eyes rounded. “Sir?” Thirty-thousand pounds was well beyond the usual twenty-five-thousand pounds for an earl’s daughter.
“My countess has informed me there will be another spare heir or daughter in the house before summer comes to an end,” Daniel announced proudly. “When the boys are back in residence, it would be best if Dahlia had a new situation.”
Blinking, Anthony thought about what his mother had said the day before. “Lady Norwick will be in good company, sir, given my mother is also with child.”
Surprised by this revelation, Daniel lifted a brow. “They’ll both be in good company. Why, Everly informed me only last night that his countess is expecting,” he remarked, referring to Harold Tennison, Earl of Everly. “With any luck, Stella will finally give him a spare heir.”
Anthony had already learned the news of Alexander Tennison’s betrothal—as had every young miss in Mayfair and every young buck who’d had to compete for their attentions when Alexander was in the same room. “The Everly earldom will be in good stead,” Anthony said. “Alexander has proposed to a jeweler’s daughter, which means the most handsome heir in all of Mayfair will no longer be a bachelor,” he added.
“Tuesday night’s ball will be quite a spectacle,” Daniel murmured. “I rather imagine Weatherstone will delight in having all these betrothals announced. Pray tell, shall we have him include yours?”
Anthony dipped his head. “Of course, sir.”
“Very well. Now, back to business. I’ve a country house in Sussex. Norwick Park. It’s entailed but available should you wish to use it on occasion.”
“Very good, sir,” Anthony responded. He hadn’t considered other perks that might come with marrying Dahlia Fitzwilliam.
“I rather imagine my countess will wish to arrange a large wedding on behalf of her eldest—”
“I would expect nothing less, sir.”
“—Especially since she won’t have the benefit of doing it for her youngest,” Daniel added wistfully.
Anthony blinked. “Sir?”
Daniel furrowed a brow. “Oh, in my discussions with your brother, we agreed to a quick wedding for him and Danielle.”
“You did?” Anthony straightened on his chair, wondering when Andrew had met with the earl. He had assumed his younger twin was still off wooing Danielle.
“They’ll be off to Greece soon,” Daniel said proudly. “This is an auspicious day. Both girls betrothed?” He shook his head. “I would never have guessed it. In fact, I’m thinking I may wait until later this evening to tell my countess of the betrothals. Otherwise the entire dinner conversation will be about wedding preparations.” He turned his attention back to his desk. “I’ll have the dowry details drawn up and delivered to Aimsley House by day after tomorrow.”
Anthony inhaled softly, hoping Dahlia wasn’t sharing the news with her mother this very instant. “Thank you, sir.” He paused a moment. “What time should I return Lady Dahlia here this evening? So I can let my mother know she can’t keep her in the parlor all night?” he added in a teasing voice.
Daniel regarded the viscount with an assessing glance. “Is midnight too soon?”
Shaking his head—he had expected something closer to ten o’clock—Anthony said, “Not at all, sir.” He stood. “We should be off. I don’t wish to be late for dinner at Aimsley House.”
“Of course.” Daniel held out his right hand. “Best wishes and good luck,” he added as he shook Anthony’s hand.
“Thank you, sir.”
Anthony gingerly opened the study door, half expecting Dahlia to fall into his arms. When she didn’t, he stepped out, his attention immediately going to the marble staircase.
Dahlia was halfway down the stairs, her head held high and her gaze directed straight in front of her.
Dressed in a dinner gown of peach satin with matching gloves, her hair done up in an elegant chignon held in place with a jeweled comb, she looked the part of a future countess.
His current viscountess.
He swallowed and took a steadying breath.
Moving to collect her at the bottom the stairs, Anthony offered his arm. “My mother is going to be thrilled. My father is going to faint, and my brother is...” He paused, furrowing a brow.
