Page 34 of The Duke's Match
Max seemed equally as surprised as Dickie. “But something is better than nothing, is it not? I do not want her to be alone.”
“Better to be a spinster with dreams than shackled to a life of misery with an unworthy gentleman for a husband,” Percy recited, almost against his will.
A strange, spluttering sound came out of Dickie. “My good man, we must ask the countess to fetch a physician here at once. Evidently, that bruise on the side of your face is leaking madness into your brain. Why, in a moment, you might begin to perform poetry or start singing ballads of love! And I am sorry, but I cannot bear the possibility.”
“Leave him be,” Max chided lightly. “He is clearly practicing for when he woos his own future bride. Is that not so, Sinclair?”
Percy touched the bruise, wondering if itwasto blame. “Exactly so, Max.” He forced a smirk at Dickie. “Do not fear, if I feel compelled to recite poetry, I shall give you fair warning.”
“Please do,” Dickie urged, any concern dissipating from his perpetually cheery face.
Yet, for reasons he could not explain, Percydidwant Anna to have those things, to find someone who was everything she needed. It did not mean he had changed his mind about the silliness of love and manipulative emotions, but as with her glove, it was her life; she could do with it as she pleased. And after all she had done for others, he figured she deserved to have the husband she had dreamed of, all her life. Whoever he might be.
But Lord Luminport?He turned up his nose. Just thinking of the fellow made him want to yawn.
“Lord Westyork!” Dickie shouted, as the trio of men made it out onto the terrace. “My good friend, the Duke of Granville, has come to bend your ear about matters of business! And he needs your advice rather swiftly, for his house is falling down.”
Flashing Dickie a reproving look, Percy straightened his posture and squared his shoulders, putting on his most affable smile as he extended a hand to Daniel Barnet, the famed Earl of Westyork. Perhaps, the wealthiest man in England.
“I assume you are accustomed to Richard’s sense of humor by now,” he said to Daniel. “If not, I can only apologize.”
Daniel laughed and took Percy’s hand, shaking it firmly. “I am, indeed. I think all of society is, though I would say we tolerate it more than we grow accustomed to it. It is like the rain in Spring.”
“I am sorry we did not get to speak much that day in the park, but if you would not mind, Iwouldlike to ask you about some endeavors I am thinking of entering into,” Percy said, glancing at Caroline for a moment. But her doe eyes were fixed on Dickie, who was in the midst of telling a joke about how he had been a late bloomer.
Daniel nodded. “Of course. What can I help you with?”
The list was as long as Percy’s arm, but with a breath, he began. For the sake of his future wife, whoever she might be, he had no choice.
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
Daniel listened well and intently, giving Percy some hope that his financial difficulties were, at least, not the worst that the Earl had heard of.
Max and Dickie had fallen away at some point, returning to the revels inside the house, and Caroline had been whisked away by a group of young ladies to chatter among themselves, which turned out to be somewhat preferable. Percy did not want all and sundry overhearing everything about his business plans and his crumbling residence.
“My first piece of advice,” Daniel said, once Percy had finished, “is that you ought to find yourself a well-stationed wife. I cannot tell you how vastly it will improve your own situation.”
“Oh?”
Daniel nodded. “Doors open that were not open before, and if you find the right lady, half the battle is already won before you enter into a meeting with potential investors and associates. Wives talk, wives organize, wives encourage and persuade, and my own darling Phoebe has been the linchpin in my greatest endeavors thus far. She is immensely intelligent—more so than me, in truth—and once she understands what needs to be done, she does it. I had Lord Wickford shaking my hand and agreeing to invest before I had even sat down, because Phoebe had already had tea with Lady Wickford eight times, to introduce the idea.”
Lord Wickford was an extraordinarily wealthy merchant, known for being very,verydifficult to deal with. Many gentlemen wished he would invest in their endeavors, but the number of successful candidates was in singular figures.
“I am currently in pursuit of a wife. I hope to be married by—” Percy did not get to finish, or to hear any more advice, as Caroline hurried out onto the terrace looking flustered.
“India is having a tantrum, and I could not find Phoebe, and the nanny is beside herself, and I tried to calm her down—both of them—but it is no good. She keeps screaming for Mama and Papa,” Caroline blurted out.
Daniel laughed softly. “I shall tend to it, Caro. You return to your own exploits.”
“Thank you, Brother.” Caroline visibly relaxed. “Goodness, I am surprised you cannot hear her from here.”
Daniel bowed his head to Percy. “Let us arrange a more formal meeting in the next fortnight. I shall ruminate on your concerns beforehand, so I can be more prepared.” He paused. “But a wife—yes, find yourself a wife. It will change everything for the better. Love her, be loved by her, have children with her, and you shall be the richest man alive, whether your coffers are full or empty.”
Percy watched the man go, utterly perplexed by those parting words. He had not expected a highly respected gentleman of business to be so… sentimental. Nor could he understand why any gentleman would hurry off to tend to their own child, instead of his wife. He certainly could not understand why Daniel had seemed so heartened by the prospect of facing a child having a tantrum.
He turned around and gazed out across the immaculate lawns of the Grayling Estate, squinting at the shadows that moved in the torchlight. Couples who had stolen away to be alone for a while.
Hastily diverting his gaze to a patch of lichen on the balustrade in front of him, he took a calming breath and thought of his own father. Once, his father might have run to him the way Daniel had just run to his daughter. Once, he had been the center of his father’s world, alongside his mother. He tried to remember, but the memories would not come, buried beneath the silt of so many years of rejection and dismissal.
