Page 75 of To Bed the Bride
“The furniture, any items of decorative value, and unfortunately the horses.”
She stared at him for a moment. A cavern opened up in her chest. The echo of her heartbeat seemed to come from far away.
“Is there nothing I can do?” she asked finally. “Is there nothing you can do? Have I no power as my father’s only heir?”
His eyes darted left to right, and lit on the china, then the window. Finally he settled on the tip of one shoe peeping out beneath the tablecloth.
She waited with some impatience for him to speak. When he did, she almost wished he’d kept silent.
“As a woman you have no standing. Upon your marriage, your father’s estate essentially becomes the property of your husband, without the right to sell the structure and the land, as I mentioned. That’s simply the law.”
Her stomach was queasy. “You’re quite sure?”
“I am, yes.”
She couldn’t help but wonder if the elder Mr. Babbage might’ve had a different answer for her.
As if he’d heard her thoughts, his son added, “My father would’ve told you the same thing, Miss Craig. It’s settled law.”
In other words, Michael could do anything he wished and she couldn’t stop him. He could empty Hearthmere of all the antiques, the French furniture her great-great-grandmother had purchased, and the paintings her grandfather had so enjoyed. He could decimate the Clan Hall and sell all the volumes in Hearthmere’s library.
She waved away the tray of pastries she was offered. She wasn’t hungry. There was a terrible taste in her mouth, like ashes or dust. She wanted to apologize to her father for being unable to protect his legacy.
Picking up her reticule she clutched it with both hands on her lap. “Are you quite sure, Mr. Babbage? There’s nothing I can do? Nothing at all?”
He smiled at her, an expression that was oddly charming, making him seem boyish.
“Do not marry, Miss Craig. That way no one will have any say in your inheritance.”
“Except my aunt,” she said.
“Your aunt has no legal standing in regard to your inheritance. Nor could she keep you from Hearthmere,” he added, surprising her. “The arrangement for you to visit Scotland for one month out of the year was a social concession more than a legal one. As a single woman you would have autonomy over your inheritance.”
Was she willing to go that far? Was she willing to be a pariah to her family?
Family is everything.
What about her father, though, and his life’s ambition? Didn’t that count for anything at all?
She thanked Mr. Babbage for meeting with her, stood, and made her way to the front of the hotel where Liam was waiting.
“Back home, Miss Eleanor?” he asked before she got into the carriage.
“No, Liam. Take me to Mr. McKnight’s house, please.”
She couldn’t bear to return to her aunt’s home. Or hear more gushing praise about Michael.
Her family had heralded this marriage. At first she’d been bemused about the engagement. As it continued, she began to feel the first twinges of unease. The situation with Bruce had crossed a line. Now the prospect of selling Hearthmere pushed her onto the edge of a cliff.
Michael cared nothing for what she thought was important. All he’d demonstrated since they’d become engaged was that his wishes and wants were important, but hers were to be ignored.
For the great honor of making her his wife, his countess, she was to understand that she was only a vessel, a woman who would give him heirs but nothing more. She wasn’t to have an opinion. She wasn’t to have a dog. She wasn’t to disagree. She wasn’t to own anything. She was to turn her back on her country, her inheritance, and see Michael as an object of adoration, nothing less.
How could she marry someone like that? How could she consider a future with someone so selfish and insular?
She couldn’t.
Gain a husband, lose her inheritance.
