Page 18 of Rules for Heiresses
He took the money earned from engineering in railways and shipping, and he started procuring real estate and property. Acreage in the Americas, railroads, mining, hotels across continents, and ocean liners. He invested in anything that turned a significant profit and then reinvested his returns in the island. As his wealth grew, Courtland hired his cousins and anyone who was willing to work for fair wages. It wasn’t by chance that his business connections called him Midas because everything he touched turned to gold. A small, gratifying irony for a boy whose stepmother had told him that anything he touched would turn to shit.
Embry cleared his throat after the efficient footmen cleared their plates and refilled their wineglasses. “So about my sister.”
“As my wife, she will be afforded every luxury, Embry, that I can promise you.”
The duke let out a sigh. “That’s not what I’m concerned about. Even with her dowry, I’ve looked into your finances and know that you’re more than capable of providing for her.” Courtland arched a brow at that, but he should not be surprised. The Duke of Embry was not rumored to be a fool or dismissive where his family was concerned. “Ravenna is…headstrong.”
“Is that what you’re calling it these days?” Courtland smothered a laugh. “Not much has changed from the vales of Kettering then. She was muleheaded to a fault, if I recall correctly.”
Embry gave a rueful shrug. “I suppose growing up with three older brothers didn’t help.” He took a sip of his drink. “After the accident, when I became duke, I should have returned home. I blame myself for not being there when she needed me the most. She sentimentalized my absence and convinced herself that she also belonged out on the seas. Needless to say, she approached every London season like a hardened general marching to make war upon her enemies.”
A laugh burst from him. Courtland could see just see her, glaring down every suitor, mutiny in her gaze. Her hair would have been longer then, looped and coiled in whatever the popular women’s fashion was. In truth, he rather liked the short, velvety-soft curls that sprang and entwined around his fingers.
“She refused every single offer,” Embry went on. “It drove me mad, that stubbornness. But my wife insisted that some flowers bloom in their own time, and that she would wed when she was ready. Until I received your letter, I’d thought she was in Scotland with Lady Clara. I was shaken to learn that she was here.Alone.” His voice tightened, and for the first time, Courtland realized that the self-possessed duke was overwrought. “Thank you, Ashvale, for what you’ve done. My sister alluded to some actions on her part that were…reckless, and I am well aware of what could have transpired without your intervention. You have my everlasting gratitude. Anything you should ever need, please ask.”
Discomfort filled Courtland. He was not the hero in this story. He’d been willing to toss Ravenna into jail, and then he’d been the one to maul her in his office like a sex-starved cad. A marriage between them was theleastof what he should have offered. He kept his mouth shut on the subject, however, not knowing exactly what Ravenna had shared with her brother.
“It might have been better for your father to honor the childhood betrothal agreement after all,” he murmured, the barest hint of bitterness in his tone. Not that he’d ever wanted to marry in his youth—his younger self had viewed the engagement as a fate worse than death. Much as his young nemesis Ravenna had.
Marriage? I’d rather be coated in honey and left on an anthill.
Her insults had always been cleverer than his.
The duke leaned forward. “I wish he had. My father believed you dead. We all did.”
“The marchioness knew why I’d left. I suspect she hoped her son would take my place. You see, in her highborn opinion, my bloodlines weren’t of ducal caliber.”
Embry’s eyes narrowed. “While thetonmight agree with her limited views, your grandfather didn’t think so and his opinion, even posthumously, carries weight.”
“My grandfather was addled because of the advanced state of his illness. I expect he wasn’t in his right mind for many years.” Courtland sighed. “And no doubt Stinson will use that to discredit me, dispute the terms of the will, and take what he believes to be his. The only reason I’m going to England is for the sake of your sister and the future matches of my half sisters. The gossip surrounding our union was enough for my late father’s solicitor to insist on me showing my face as duke and putting to rest any questions that I am well and alive.”
“That is sound advice.” Embry blinked, frowning as if something had just occurred to him. “I admit I’ve been away from town for some time, and more recently in the past handful of years, my wife and I have spent most of our time in Hastings, apart from the demands of Parliament.” The frown deepened. “Stinson has been calling himself the Marquess of Borne for some time. Which isyourrightful seat, not his.”
“I did not care, to be honest.”
Embry scowled. “It wasn’t lawful!”
“Men will do whatever they want when they feel they are owed something, and the law cannot be trusted to be upheld when those very men are the ones who wield it,” Courtland said. “When our father died, Stinson was raised by the marchioness to believe that he was the rightful heir. I was simply an inconvenient obstacle that needed to be removed, and the only way for her to do that is by questioning my legitimacy.” He shrugged as they stood and walked to the foyer. “My parents were wed here on this very island. I saw the register myself. My birth had to have been recorded by my father, though I’m sure mistakes could have been made.”
“If your parents were legally married, then you are Ashvale’s legitimate heir.”
“So it would seem.”
Embry smirked. “Welcome to the club, my friend. I assure you being a peer is not as bad as it’s made out to be…as long as you stick to what you believe in and ignore all the noise.”
“It’s the noise that worries me. Not that I care what people think. I worry for Ravenna’s sake. I wouldn’t want her to be hurt by ugly gossip because of me. The marchioness is uncommonly driven.”
“Ravenna is stronger than you think.” The duke shot him an inscrutable look. “Remember, call on me when you get to London. We should be there for at least a part of the season while Parliament is in session.”
“I will.”
“And take care of my sister. While strong, she’s also not as hard-edged as she pretends to be.” He grinned, his blue eyes sparking. “Hurt her and this time your death will be more than a rumor.”
Courtland lifted a brow. “Safe travels, Duke.”
He watched as his new brother-in-law climbed into the waiting carriage and headed toward the local port. Anxious to return to his wife and infant daughter, Embry would not wait to go back to England with him and Ravenna in a few days, but would leave today. Courtland envied the easy way he spoke of his family with such love and adoration. He could never hope the same for himself. He did not intend to have children. He hadn’t even intended to get married, but here he was.
He’d been honest with Embry. Ravenna would want for nothing, and he would protect her as best as he was able, for as long as he was able. If she wanted a separation in time, he would offer her a divorce on any grounds—cruelty, desertion, or adultery—no matter his own public indignity. It was only fair. He would do what was required of him and stay the course.
