Page 2 of Bound By The Christmastide Moon

“Mutually beneficial?” Silas had never envisioned himself wedded, especially after his parents’ disastrous match. The only ones to suffer were the children of Edmond and Mary Louisa Anson. “What have I to offer a woman with a healthy enough dowry to sustain Ditchley Hall and provide for my siblings’ immediate futures?”

Silas was speaking in questions once again, yet, when a man had no answers of consequence, all that was left was questions.

His entire life since fleeing England had been about finding answers…solutions to the many looming problems that plagued his family. When his mother had embraced her creative ways once across the Channel and neglected her children’s upbringing, it had been up to Silas to find the means to educate his siblings, Slade and Sybil. He’d spent countless hours at the Bibliothèque nationale de France, first teaching himself to read, and then returning to their meager flat with the tomes necessary to instruct his brother and sister.

“You have a generations-old—and might I add, respected—title with connections to far more powerful members of society.” Peabody recited the line as if he’d practiced it the entire journey from London. “That being said, I do not think it wise, or advantageous in your precarious position, to speak of the strained ties between you and your most notable relations.”

Silas fairly growled. “Do you think me foolish enough to begin every conversation with the scandalous details of my mother’s banishment?”

The solicitor’s gaze swung back to Silas, his brow furrowed. “Your mother—errr, Lady Lichfield—was not banished. Has never been spoken of in anything but the highest regard by my employer, I mean to say, the previous Lord Lichfield…your father.” Peabody held up a single finger as he riffled through his papers once more. “Ah, yes, here it is. Your father commissioned this letter in the event that your mother returned to England after his death. It states that in accordance with British law, she is, always has been, and will remain, Lady Lichfield. While you are the Lichfield heir, your mother is entitled to a hefty allowance and an estate, if she so chooses to accept it.”

Chooses to accept it.

Most peculiar phrasing, indeed.

“I’m assuming this has the stipulation that it is only enforceable after my father’s death.” The statement drew another uneasy glance from the solicitor, and bloody hell if Silas wasn’t remorseful over his lack of enthusiasm to review the piles of paperwork littering his desk. “Because there is no other reason my father would have allowed his family to live in squalor in Paris if there were funds and property set aside for my mother.”

The solicitor once again focused on the folder before him, flipping pages until he found what he searched for. He lowered his head further, his lips moving as he read. “There is no such clause, my lord.”

“Then why—” Silas stopped himself once more, knowing his fury would find no peace by harming the messenger. There was little use demanding to understand the inner workings of his late father. “Let us return to your original plan.”

“Very good, my lord.” The man’s head bobbed up and down, obviously aware he’d avoided Silas’s displeasure for the time being. “I have it all written down before you.”

“Yes, however, there seems to be one crucial flaw.”

“Oh?” the solicitor asked, leaning forward over his stack of papers to see the page on Silas’s desk. “What would that be?”

Silas snatched the document and held it before him. “It details my need to wed—and marry for a healthy dowry—however, it does not purport whom, precisely, I should espouse.” When the solicitor remained silent, he continued. “Being new to society, you should be well aware I am blissfully unaware of whom, exactly, has a sizeable dowry—and who will only bring increased hardship to the Lichfield name.”

“I would never seek to command you in whom to wed, my lord.”

Odd, as the man had sent numerous correspondences about what was needed to keep the earldom afloat for another quarter.

Silas massaged his temples as he eyed the solicitor.

Would anyone truly miss the incompetent man if he were not to make it back to London?

Yet, he must needs remember he was in England once more, not the uncivilized country of France—as most Englishmen were fond to classify those who chose to live across the Channel.

“By chance have you any suggestions for proper, financially well-endowed ladies I should seek to court?”

Peabody broke into a broad smile as if Silas had finally asked the exact question he’d been waiting to hear. “I happen to have a client who—”

“How very fortunate…”

“Yes, well, he is not actively seeking a marriage for his daughter but has sought my advice on several occasions in regards to finding a match for her.”

“Her worth?”

“Pardon?” Peabody said with a gulp.

“What is her worth? If I am to sell myself to the highest bidder, I would know the reward is sufficient to see me through for several years.” Silas would never entertain a union unless he reaped adequate benefits: funds enough to see his siblings accepted into society, and prestige to overshadow his mother’s estranged family. “Also, I suppose I should hear what you know of the girl.”

“Her dowry is sufficient if you adhere to my other advice on managing your estate and investing in appropriately modest ventures. The woman in question is the only daughter of a marquess—a wealthy and connected marquess. If you have aspirations for the House of Lords, he will be an admirable advocate.”

“I have never seen myself as a political man.”

“Then, perhaps, you will be more in line with her brother. He is an earl and quite the man about town. A confirmed rakehell with an untouchable reputation in business, and a propensity for the gaming tables.”