And Father was scolding him for not attending the figurative beheading of the upper classes?
“You were supposed to be there, Tilburn, making your case.”
“Making my case?” That was exactly the sort of entanglement he’d been trying to avoid. “It seems you and I have very different ideas of what I—”
“Fortunately, I have already taken pains to make recompense on your behalf.”
James’s entire frame froze on the spot. “What did you do?”
“I sent her flowers along with your apology for not being present at the ball.” If the spinning signet ring was any indication, Father was quite satisfied with his efforts.
Flowers. And a missive. “She will think I am courting her.”
“Aren’t you?” The question was offered in too self-satisfied a tone to be anything but rhetorical.
“Of course not.” James jumped to his feet. “I befriended Miss Lancaster as a favor to you because you made an ill-conceived promise to the most dangerous man in the kingdom. Only befriended her. We were quite specific on that matter.”
“You agreed,” Father replied.
“But not to this.” Panic was quickly setting in. “I said I would stand up with the young lady on a few occasions, call at her home once or twice. You are speaking of courtship.”
“We have always been speaking of courtship, Tilburn.”
James choked back the immediate, very vocal objection he felt. He needed to proceed carefully. Once determined on a path, Father was difficult to dissuade. And James was already in far deeper than he’d ever expected to be.
“His Grace welcomed you, something the rest of Town has little expectation of. You have the advantage of acquaintance. You need only woo her, talk sweet to her, whatever you must. You could emerge triumphant.”
Father could plot and plan all he liked, but James would not stand idly by and watch it happen. Miss Lancaster was a sweet-natured and lovely young lady. She didn’t deserve to be tossed out like an eel pie past its peak of freshness.
“I have no intention of courting the girl,” he insisted. “You have not the legal ability to contract a betrothal for me, nor will I allow you to trap me into undertaking one.”
“Trap you?”
“You talked me into this mess in the first place,” James reminded him. “Now you have sent her flowers on my behalf. This feels far more like a trap than a tender moment of father and son togetherness.”
Father’s mouth pulled into a tight line. “I will not allow this opportunity to slip away. I will do what I must for the good of this family.”
The good of this family. That only ever meant the furthering of his own ambitions.
“I cannot like this, Father. I was invited to act as her friend only. I will not impose upon her further.”
Father didn’t take even an instant to contemplate James’s objection but immediately offered his counterargument. “A courtship from a gentleman who is already a friend is not an imposition.”
“It is when that courtship was enacted on false pretenses.” He was firm on this point. To continue on the path Father was laying out would be dishonest. James would not do that. “I have fulfilled my agreement. I will do no more.”
“Do you not care at all for your name? Your station?”
James despaired of making his father understand the importance of choosing the ethical path even if doing so meant personal inconvenience. His sire seldom bothered to ponder whether or not he should behave in a certain way, preferring instead to be guided by the simpler argument of whether or not he could.
“Our station in life is sufficient for me,” James said.
Father’s gaze narrowed. “That is a very selfish stance, Tilburn.”
“I do not see it that way.” He rose, then sketched a quick bow. “Good day—”
“Shall I tell your mother you no longer concern yourself with her well-being?” Father sat perfectly still. “You know as well as I do how much she depends upon you.”
This scheme had been concocted in part to bring Mother to London with the promise of the duchess’s friendship and support. James couldn’t say his efforts had guaranteed that, but he felt certain Her Grace would at least acknowledge Mother. He needn’t perpetuate a lie to garner further favor.
“No,” James said firmly. “I will not take this further.”
“Then I must.” Father’s confidence remained unshaken. “You subsist upon the income provided you by the estate, do you not?”
Apprehension inched over him. “You know that I do.”
“This estate need not support anyone who does not act in its best interest.” Father pegged James with a firm and painfully patient gaze.
“You cannot disown your heir. My coveted Oxford education taught me that much.” Father’s devotion to that institute of learning bordered on religious.
“Not ultimately, but I have complete control over your income during my lifetime,” Father answered.
“You would threaten to cut me off if I do not acquiesce? You would subject your son and heir to penury in order to have your way?”
“You force my hand.” The words emerged slowly. “I have the betterment of generations of this family in mind, and you can think of nothing but your own willfulness. If you will not do what is best, I must see to it that you are made to. If that requires that I take away your financial support, I will do it, however much it pains me.”
James didn’t imagine anything about the undertaking would truly pain Father other than the embarrassment of a penniless heir. And yet there had been moments in the past week when Father had seemed to soften the tiniest bit. Perhaps it had all been a ruse, a ruse he had been fooled by.
“What say you, Tilburn?”
“It seems I am to live in poverty.”
Father’s brow creased in deep confusion. “What of your pride?”
James squared his shoulders. He would not be forced into this. “Deceiving an innocent young lady by undertaking a feigned courtship, choosing a bride based on my father’s ambitions, making a liar of myself for the sake of social standing does not, in my mind, equate with taking pride in oneself.”
“Do you dare presume to lecture me, boy?”
James took a calming breath. He had long ago promised himself to always treat his father with the respect he himself wished he received from his sire. Though he often fell short of the mark, he was determined to try.
“I do not wish to give offense.” He kept his voice level. “But I will not yield on this matter, even if doing so casts me into difficult straits.”
Father was unshaken. “I control more than your income, you realize. Bennett quite appreciates his quarterly allowance.”
James’s younger brother more than merely appreciated the income he received from their father; he required it.
“How would he live if he were cut off?” Father spoke more quickly, more forcefully, apparently realizing he had struck a nerve. “Bennett has far more to lose than you do should he find himself short on funds.”
Their maternal grandmother had bequeathed to Bennett a small estate in Lancashire. The bequest had come as a lifeline only a year earlier when Bennett had grown desperate to escape the tyranny of their father’s household. He had sunk every ounce of his strength and every penny he had into turning the rundown estate into a livable bit of property. That land meant the world to him, and without the quarterly allowance he received from the Techney estate, he hadn’t the means to keep his inheritance. It was not yet self-sustaining. He would lose everything.
“You would take away Bennett’s income?”
“I will not allow you to throw away the future of this family.” Determination had turned Father’s expression hard and unyielding. “If you will not act in their best interests, then I must.”
James didn’t move, his mind spinning.
How could he deprive his brother of the one thing they had both longed for all their lives: freedom? Losing Halford Grange would destroy Bennett.
“You choose, Tilburn. You can defy me and strip your brother of his land and future, or you can accept the good fortune that has been laid in your hands and do the right thing by your posterity.”
“I cannot—”
“I control your mother’s pin money as well.” Father’s piercing gaze didn’t waver in the least.
“You would punish your own wife?” Just how far was Father willing to go?
“I am doing nothing of the sort. You are tying my hands by refusing to do what is best for your relations.”
James couldn’t breathe. How had he found himself in such a position? Holding his ground, refusing to bow to his father’s dictates would destroy his mother and brother, rob them of their incomes and contentment. Bowing to his father’s demands would save Bennett’s land and Mother’s income and grant her entry into the Society of which she’d once dreamed of being a part. But giving them those concessions meant feigning an interest in a young lady who did not deserve his deception, who, if his assessment of her character was accurate, would be hurt quite personally by such ill treatment.
He needed to think, to find a way around this dilemma.
“You cannot expect me to make such a decision without so much as a moment to think it through.”
“I foolishly expected you to act rationally from the beginning.” Much of Father’s anger had dissipated, replaced by a calm James found even more unsettling. Father had made his decision; he would not be dissuaded from his threats. He would follow through, even if it meant making every person in his family miserable for the rest of their lives.
James was too upended to even pace. He could only stand there, frozen and mute, desperately thinking. Only one thing was truly clear: he could not allow the people he cared for to be hurt by Father’s selfishness.
He had already decided to continue being a friend to Miss Lancaster—although pretending a sincere interest in courting her was hardly the act of a friend. What he knew of her, he liked. That aspect of their acquaintance would not be a lie. There was the very real possibility that she wouldn’t accept his suit and an even greater possibility that the duke, should he discover James had not taken on the role of suitor with any degree of willingness, would simply challenge him to pistols at dawn, shoot him through the heart, and leave his carcass for the various wild beasts to devour.
How did this happen? He made a quick circuit of the room, trying to formulate some kind of plan. He could continue calling on her but keep his efforts as circumspect as possible, perhaps even helping the causes of any number of her other suitors. Father might be in a position to force James into a courtship, but he would never be able to force Miss Lancaster to accept.
That was his answer: continue his efforts without truly working to convince Miss Lancaster. She would choose someone else in the end. He could do that, and she wouldn’t be hurt by Father’s schemes. Neither would Mother or Bennett.
“I will have it in writing,” James said.
“You will have what in writing?”
“Your promise that should I pay suit to Miss Lancaster as you require, you will never deny nor diminish Bennett’s quarterly allowance nor will you deprive Mother of her expected pin money. And that you will never force Bennett into a courtship the way you are forcing me.”
Father raised an eyebrow in obvious surprise. “My word should be more than enough—”
“It is not remotely enough,” James said. “If I am to bow this much to your demands, I will protect my family from you.”
“You will protect the family from me? I, who am doing this for them?” Father shook his head, though whether in amusement or denial, James couldn’t say. “You are quite mistaken, my boy. It is I who am protecting them from your selfishness. None of these threats would have been necessary if you had been thinking at all of their well-being from the beginning.”
He doubted he would ever see eye to eye with his father on the matter of what constituted the best interests of the family. There was little point arguing with him.
“Have your solicitor draft a binding document with my required commitments from you.” James spoke as his heart dropped further into the coldest recesses of his soul. Even with a plan in place to protect him from an unwanted marriage and his firm commitment not to impose on Miss Lancaster if he could at all help it, he did not like the future that now lay before him one bit. “Then, and only then, will I so much as speak to Miss Lancaster again.”
“I will have the document ready by day’s end.” Father spun his signet ring about his finger quickly, eagerly.
Without a word of parting, James left the library. He was likely the only gentleman in the entire kingdom who desperately hoped a young lady with enviable connections, social standing second to none, and a fortune of £20,000 would meet his efforts at courtship with complete and utter rejection.
Chapter Nine
Daphne sat in her usual spot in Adam’s book room. He occupied a nearby armchair. Their daily time together had of necessity grown more rare with the start of the Season. She took tremendous comfort in the fact that he had seemed as grateful for her presence that afternoon as she had been for the opportunity to spend time with him again. How often she had pleaded with her father for a small space beside him while he’d worked or for a moment of his attention. For years, he’d turned her away, until she’d eventually stopped asking.
At twelve years old, she had taken trembling steps into this very book room and posed to Adam the same question she had to her father so many times. Years of rejection had echoed painfully in her heart and mind as she’d waited for his answer. He had nodded and motioned her to the same sofa she sat on now. For six years, she had spent time with him nearly every day. He had welcomed her, something for which she would be forever grateful.
“Talk of hostilities with the former colonies grows more specific by the day.” Adam often spoke to her of the matters before Parliament. “A great many in both Lords and Commons feel any difficulties across the ocean would be easily put to rest, as ours is the superior naval power.”
“As I understand it, that was the argument thirty-five years ago, and we all know the outcome of those hostilities,” she said. “And at that time, we weren’t already fighting a war nearer home as we are now. Parliament would do well to proceed with caution.”
He nodded. “If even a fraction of those in a position of influence had your intelligence, this country would be in far better condition.”
A knock echoed off the slightly ajar book room door. Daphne and Adam both turned in that direction. The butler stepped inside, a vase of bright flowers in his hand.
He addressed Adam, as was proper. “This has arrived, Your Grace, for Miss Lancaster.”
Daphne eyed the bouquet in disbelief. Athena had received countless floral tributes during her Season. After hostessing a ball or gathering, guests often sent flowers to Persephone. But Daphne had never received a single flower—not from Adam or Harry or either of her own brothers.
“You are certain they were sent to me?” she asked the butler.
“Quite certain, Miss Lancaster.” He set the vase on the end table directly beside the sofa, then, with a bow, stepped from the room again.
She pulled a small sealed note from amongst the blooms. Did a lady generally wait until she was in the privacy of her own bedchamber to read the accompanying message? Asking Adam would do no good. He wasn’t likely to know how she was meant to act in such a situation.
She attempted to appear quite casual as she eyed the as-yet-unopened note. Who could the flowers be from? Why were they sent? Adam would not have thought to do so, having referred to the offerings from Athena’s many admirers as “ridiculous” on multiple occasions.
“Holding a note and not reading
it seems a waste of effort,” Adam said.
“Are you eager to know who sent the flowers?” She tried for a teasing tone, hoping to hide her growing impatience.
“I only want to know if I need to squelch anyone’s presumptuousness.”
“Adam, we talked about this. You promised—”
He sighed, the sound full of exasperated acceptance. “I agreed to be less surly in public. I made no promise about my own book room.”
Daphne’s heart leaped as she slowly, carefully opened the note. Her eyes dropped first to the signature at the bottom of the note. “Ld Tilburn.” The flowers were from James. She kept her expression calm, not wishing to give Adam further reason to find flowers and those who sent and received them as ludicrous.
She eagerly read the note.
Miss Lancaster,
I must abjectly apologize for my absence last evening at the Debenhams’ ball. Though I had hoped to see you again, I was detained. I pray these flowers will serve as an adequate expression of my dismay at being denied your company.
Yours, etc.
Ld Tilburn
It was a far more earnest note than she would have expected. He had always been friendly, but this note felt . . . different from that somehow. It felt like something a gentleman would write to a lady with whom he had a much closer connection than they had. The wording as well as the sentiment felt mismatched to the sender.
“You appear deep in thought.”
When had Persephone come inside the book room? Daphne’s face heated as it always did at the slightest embarrassment. Her sister, however, did not appear disapproving nor censuring. If anything, she looked amused.
Daphne held her treasured note up but offered no spoken explanation.
“Am I to assume, then, this lovely bouquet is for you?”
Daphne nodded.
“Sent by a young gentleman whose absence you mourned last night?”
Daphne eyed Adam. She saw no surge of disapproval or irritation. He seemed legitimately curious. “What did the lordling have to say?”
Romancing Daphne Page 7
