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“I…I beg your pardon?” Clarkston crowed, confusion now drawing squiggly lines on his face. He looked nearly cross-eyed.

What a foolish man, Adam thought.

Without saying anything, Adam walked past them both, picked up the document from the table, and held it out.

Clarkston took it. He read the first paragraph. He went back to the top and read it again, and his expression moved through several stages before settling into something that was not quite disbelief and not quite acceptance.

“This…This is…” He kept glancing at the paper, then at Adam, before he said, “These are old papers.”

Adam gave him a deadpan stare. “You and I both know that it is a contract, and the terms apply because it names descendants, not children. Since your daughter is a descendant of the Kingsford line, and I am the Ravenlocke heir, we are to fulfill it.” Adam removed the document from his hands. “And so, I am invoking it.”

Clarkston was still staring at him with that dumb look on his face. “B—but a viscount’s special license has already…Penhurst will not simply step aside, and the arrangements have been…There will be a scandal, Your Grace. You cannot⁠—”

Adam was not interested, but it confused him why this man would oppose a marriage to a duke over a viscount. Surely, any father with a working head on his shoulders knew that he was a better match for Lady Juliet.

“Any scandal that follows a viscount pressing his suit against a ducal claim will belong to the viscount,” Adam said. “He is welcome to it.” He held the man’s gaze, and Clarkston took half a step back without appearing to intend it. “Lady Juliet will remain at Ravenlocke tonight in proper accommodations. Tomorrow, I will obtain the necessary license from the archbishop, and the wedding will take place in my chapel within the week. You will not interfere with the arrangements. Do we understand each other?”

He did not phrase it as a question, and Clarkston knew that, as well.

Clarkston looked at his daughter. For a moment, Adam thought he saw anger there, but when he glanced at Adam and realized he was being watched, he quickly looked at the floor.

“I understand,” he said.

“Grieves.” Adam raised his voice toward the hall. “Have Mrs. Priscilla show Lord Clarkston to a guest room. He will leave after breakfast tomorrow.”

The butler appeared again, his expression still pleasant despite all the chaotic happenings of the night.

Clarkston moved toward the door, then stopped. “Since you have been so bold as to seek out a groom for yourself,” he hissed at Juliet, “I should warn you to make sure you don’t ruin yet another wedding.”

“Watch your tongue when you speak to my future duchess, Clarkston,” Adam found himself growling, and Clarkston lost all the fight in him, his shoulders slumping.

Lady Juliet simply looked at her father directly and said, “Goodnight, Father,” in a tone that was perfectly courteous but contained absolutely no emotion.

That, Adam thought, was very good.

Clarkston glanced at Adam once, then turned and followed Grieves from the room.

Then the hall door shut. He turned back to Juliet, and what he said was low and meant only for her. Adam caught the tone—compressed and practiced cruelty—before the man walked out of the room.

Adam watched him go, and listened as his butler closed the outer hall door.

He turned. Lady Juliet was still standing where she had been, but her eyes were wide with shock. Then, she took in a deep breath, her expression steadying again.

“You…Thank you, Your Grace,” she started to say, and he watched her cheeks bloom cherry red. “I presume… that you were being serious. About our, erm, marriage.”

“Yes,” he nodded.

She let out a long breath. “Thank you. I…I promise that I will do my best within our arrangement.”

Adam wasn’t quite listening. Just like a red cloth to the eye of a bull, Adam’s felt his lower half respond to the coloring, bombarding him with mental images best left behind the closed doors of a boudoir.

He was running mad, it seemed. “You should rest,” Adam said instead, clearing his throat twice. “The coming days will not be brief.”

She lifted her brows slightly. “No. No, I don’t suppose they will.”

“I’ll be leaving at first light to acquire the license.”

She let that settle, then said, “You leave at first light?”