Page 40 of A Murder, a Marquess, and Miss Mifford
"Just because I'm not keen to get leg-shackled, does not mean that I do not have a heart," Delaney harrumphed, "But no, this is nothing to do with women I am romantically interested in, rather women who I am obliged to suffer because of blood relations."
"Your mother?" Freddie guessed, feeling more certain he was correct.
"And my sisters," Delaney sighed, "They're ganging up on me, and they're rather formidable when they have a shared cause."
"The cause being to torture you, and, by default me, who has to listen to you?"
"A-hur-hur-hur," Delaney met Freddie's sarcasm with some of his own, "How you suffer. No, Mother has gotten it into her head that she would like to take up residence in Bath near Amelia."
"Understandable," Freddie conceded, for Delaney's sister had only recently given birth.
"Which has led to Nancy demanding I rent her an apartment there too," Delaney continued, rolling his eyes, "Which in turn led to Frannie demanding one for herself, so she's not left out."
"Can their husbands not facilitate these demands?" Freddie raised a brow.
"Apparently they're unwilling to indulge their wives' aching need to be close to their sisters, but as their brother I should understand better--even though I haven't been invited to join the coven."
"You're just here to fund them, Delaney," Freddie agreed, "Don't get ideas above your station, like joining in. One must know one's place."
"Sisters," came the dour reply, "Who'd have them?"
From the resignation in his voice, Freddie guessed that Delaney had already decided to yield to the demands of his siblings. No wonder the poor chap had no wish to marry, he was already hen-pecked as it was.
His woes, however, had inspired an idea in Freddie.
"Do Lord Crabb and Northcott both have residence in the Cotswolds?" Freddie queried, suddenly.
"Three minutes," Delaney looked at his pocket watch, "I got three minutes before you brought the topic round to the Mifford chit. And don't be pedantic and claim you didn't mention her directly. To answer your question, yes, both their estates are very close by; they border the same village."
"Plumpton," Freddie sounded out the name of the village Emily had mentioned numerous times.
"That's the one," Delaney agreed, finishing his drink in one gulp, "Are you of a mind to set up there, in the hope of winning Miss Mifford's hand?"
Delaney's tone had been teasing, but when Freddie did not immediately reply in the negative, he gave a whoop of laughter as he realised that he had hit the nail on the head.
"You're in much deeper than I had thought," he said, with a kind smile to his friend, "As a man with sisters, I will concede that you're on the right path. The bonds of sisterhood are too strong to break for any man."
"And if you can't beat them, join them," Freddie finished, with a grin.
"Indeed," Delaney, who had refilled his glass from the decanter on the table, now lifted it in toast to his friend. "Here's to admitting that we are powerless in the face of women, and to accepting our fate as nothing more than their devoted subjects."
Freddie raised his own glass in recognition of such a fine--and apt--speech. He was, he feared, completely lost to reason when it came to Miss Mifford. The only other thing capable of inspiring such devotion in him, was the fine tailoring at Weston's, and he'd even give up his exquisite collection of dinner jackets, if it meant a chance at having Emily's hand.
"Where would a man go about procuring an estate in Plumpton?" Freddie mused, having finished his second glass of brandy.
"Are you going to buy the estate before she agrees to the marriage?" Delaney gawped at his confidence.
"What makes you think she will not consent to the marriage?" Freddie frowned, "I have gone through all the reasons why Miss Mifford might refuse me, and I have ruled out that she might object to my looks, my clothing, or my personality--all are wonderful, as you well know. The only objection I can think she might have, is being separated from her family--a problem I can easily solve."
"If you're certain you won't end up master of an expensive folly," Delaney exhaled the breath he had been holding, "Then Chesterton in Kensington is your man--he knows every bit of land for sale south of the Tyne, and he'll arrange things for you, for a fee."
Freddie, who was always glad to delegate tedious tasks to a paid underling, gave a smile of satisfaction.
"My thanks," he said to Delaney, before standing up from his seat, "I shall go now to see him, before he closes for the day."
"Aren't you going to sleep on it?" Delaney blinked in surprise at his eagerness.
"What's there to think about?" Freddie gave a Gallic shrug.
