Page 89 of If the Duke Dares
“I am trying to change,” Acton admitted. “Bane’s behavior has shown me that we are all just an ill-advised promenade away from a massive mistake.” He glanced toward Droxford. “Perhaps notallof us.”
“I wondered if we should go to northern England,” Somerton said. “To support Bane.”
“No. He doesn’t need us.” Acton was still angry with Bane, both for not telling him of the betrothal and for what he’d done to Pandora. But Acton was angrier with Persey’s parents. How dare they put an announcement in the paper when their daughter had no intention of marrying this cousin?
Tossing the paper onto a nearby table, Acton stood. “I’m glad to see you both, but you must excuse me as I’ve an errand. You’ll come tonight?”
Both men got to their feet and nodded. “So long as I’m in Bath,” Droxford said without a trace of enthusiasm.
“I shall look forward to it,” Somerton said with a grin. “I always enjoy a good soiree.”
“Excellent.” Acton saw them both out, then went upstairs to fetch his hat and gloves. It occurred to him that he was headed to the exact same place as his friends, assuming they were returning to the White Hart.
Acton intended to speak with Persey’s parents. He would put a stop to their officious behavior once and for all.
The sitting room at the White Hart was well appointed, with two seating areas and a beautifully carved marble mantel surrounding the fireplace. Being at an inn reminded Acton of the time he’d spent with Persey at the utterly terrible Black Ivy. The White Hart would never have rats or allow unsavory men.
At last, Persey’s parents entered the room. They were finely dressed, as on the last occasion of their meeting, but in different garments. Knowing they lacked funds, Acton wondered how they afforded such garb. The answer was they couldn’t, which explained their need to sell their daughter to the highest bidder.
Except Acton hadn’t been given a chance to bid. Actually, he had. He just hadn’t realized what was at stake, that if he didn’t leap at the chance to marry Persey, her parents would simply betroth her to someone else.
“Good afternoon, Duke,” Radstock said with a tentative smile. “What a pleasant surprise to see you. We imagine you’ve come to speak with us about our daughter, Pandora?”
Somehow, that hadn’t occurred to Acton. But of course they would think that. “Not at all. I’m here to speak with you about leaving both your daughters alone and to instruct you to stop trying to negotiate marriages that neither of them want.” The baron didn’t know that Pandora wouldn’t want to marry Acton, but that wasn’t even an option considering his intimacy with her sister.
Radstock’s face reddened. “See here, our daughters are none of your business.”
Acton took a step toward them. “Aren’t they? You sought to betroth me to one without her consent only to betroth her to someone else,alsowithout her consent. Now, you want to betroth me to your other daughter because of some mindless gossip?”
“How do you know so much?” Lady Radstock asked, her eyes glinting with suspicion.
“I am a well-informed gentleman. And I have been spending time with your daughter—Persephone—to determine if we will suit, which was, if I recall, your original scheme.” Acton turned his full attention on the baroness. “You are a friend of my mother’s. I must draw upon that longtime association to beseech you to allow your daughters the freedom to choose their own husbands.”
Radstock scoffed. “Your meddling is inappropriate and curious.”
Acton swung his furious gaze toward the baron. “You invited my meddling when you tried to betroth me to each of your daughters in turn.”
“Pandora would make you a splendid duchess,” Lady Radstock said with a placid smile, as if Acton hadn’t been nearly yelling at them in anger. “I understand you are seeking to help her recover from your friend’s mistreatment. There can be no better resurrection for her than to become the Duchess of Wellesbourne.”
Resurrection? She wasn’t bloody dead. But perhaps her social downfall was as good as that to them. Acton was somehow more disgusted by them than when he’d arrived. “I regret to inform you that I have no plans to marry your younger daughter. Indeed, if I am to wed anyone, it will be Persephone!” He did yell that last part and wished he hadn’t. In fact, he ought not have said that at all.
Their eyes rounded, particularly Lady Radstock’s. Her lips parted, and her cheeks flushed with anticipation.
Acton moved closer until he stood directly in front of them. “I saidif. I have no plans to marry either of your daughters, and you’d do well to remember that. If you say anything different to anyone, I will ensure you are ruined in every way possible.”
“Seems I was wrong to think you were a more affable version of your father,” the baron said.
“You didn’t know my father.” The baron might have, but it couldn’t have been well. The duke had kept a very particular set of friends.
“Enough to know he was dictatorial and arrogant, always talking down to people and expecting them to do as he commanded.” Radstock sniffed. “You sounded just like him then.”
For a moment, the comparison stung. Or perhaps it was the man insinuating that Acton wasn’t affable. He prided himself on being pleasant and charming, someone who was welcome everywhere and not just because of his title.
“How hypocritical to note someone else as commanding when you yourself are arranging marriages for your adult daughters without their consent. I would advise you to get your finances in order instead of attempting to sell your firstborn. I’m sure you’d rather people didn’t hear about that.”
The baroness gasped, and Acton knew he’d made his point. He pivoted slightly and stalked past them to leave the room. He would never reveal such information, but only because he cared too much for Persey and it would be detrimental to her.
As he departed the inn, he didn’t feel as triumphant as he thought he would. Now he was thinking of his father, which he’d started to do yesterday after his conversation with this mother.
