Page 2 of As the Earl Likes
“Can you really say that?” Min asked quietly. “Would you not be happier if you weren’t leg shackled to Father?”
Their mother sucked in a breath. She did not hesitate before answering. “I would not. Where would I be? Alone at my parents’ estate in Dorset. Reading the same books over and over, and probably herding cats.”
“That sounds rather lovely,” Ellis murmured.
Sheff swallowed a grin. Ellis rarely spoke around their mother, and she certainly didn’t take an adversarial point of view. He was glad she did just then.
Min was too, for she sent an approving smile toward Ellis. “Yes, it does. Anyway, Mother, I’m not in danger of anything horrible. I am quite content with my life as it is for now, and I’m not concerned about the future. So you shouldn’t be either. Why not pester Sheff instead?” She sent him a look, then mouthed an apology.
Now, Sheff did roll his eyes. “How do you think our conversation started?” He finished the port and set the glass down on the tray. “Time to go.”
He started toward the door, gesturing for the younger ladies to precede them. Then he offered his arm to the duchess.
She set her gloved hand on his sleeve. “Would you please just find a wife? Any wife will do at this point. Then your father will stop bothering me about what I’m doing to ensure you do.”
That was the truth, then. She was seeking to put a barrier between herself and her loathsome husband. Sheff not only didn’t blame her, he felt badly that his actions had caused her to be the focus of any of his father’s attention, let alone his anger.
“I will consider it,” he said in a low tone that made him feel as hollow as his intention. He would not find a wife. Not even any wife. But he would say anything to end the haranguing.
Would he also do anything?
An idea began to form. It was daring. Perhaps even foolhardy, but it would give him a much-needed reprieve. If they believed he was betrothed, their persistent harassment would end. But he couldn’t actually betroth himself, not unless he intended to marry, which he absolutely did not.
Was there a woman who might help him? Someone who would agree to a betrothal—but no marriage? Finding her might be a challenge, but Sheff was always up for that.
She wouldn’t be someone on the Marriage Mart, for such a young lady would never agree to the scheme. That meant finding someone perhaps older or less “appropriate.” He suddenly realized this plan could have the added benefit of horrifying his parents. That would serve them right after their years-long campaign to see him trapped in marriage.
He would consider this most sincerely. But was he desperate enough to make it happen?
After staying a dutiful hour at Northumberland House, Sheff departed in a hack bound for the Siren’s Call. He might play cards, or perhaps he’d just have an ale. He could not stop thinking about the plan that had been formulating in his head all evening. And there was no better place to continue his contemplation than the Siren’s Call.
He seated himself at the table in the corner where he and his friends usually sat. One or more of them might turn up, but it was early yet, not even eleven.
His mind turned to the matter at hand: marriage. More accurately, stopping his parents’ incessant demands that he wed.
If he were betrothed, he could put an end to their harassment, both of him and Min. Perhaps then he and his sister could breathe easier and live the lives they chose instead of what their parents or Society demanded.
But could Sheff really avoid that? He’d successfully kept himself from serving in the House of Commons, but that wasn’t something his father bothered him about. Why would he when the duke could hardly be moved to tend to his own duties in the Lords? If he went to Westminster more than once a month Sheff would be surprised.
Someday, perhaps sooner rather than later, if his father didn’t ease his indulgences, Sheff would inherit the dukedom. Then it would be his responsibility to serve in the Lords. Even if he paid only a modicum of attention, he’d do better than his father.
Though, he planned to do more than that. He also knew one of his friends in particular, the Baron Droxford, would ensure he did. No one took his duty more seriously than Droxford.
“If it isn’t the Earl of Shefford.” Josephine Harker, daughter of the owner of the Siren’s Call, approached his table with a sway of her hips and a quirk of her lush mouth. “You don’t have ale yet?”
“Becky’s been busy.” Sheff inclined his head toward the redhead balancing a tray of ale as she made her way to a table. “Are you short a serving maid tonight?”
Jo’s dark brows pitched over her hazel eyes. What would have been an expression of consternation on someone else was an arresting look of contemplation on Jo’s striking features, as if her mind churned faster than even she could keep up with. But then she was inordinately clever. “No, but I don’t know where Agnes has gone. I hadn’t realized she was missing until you just said something. Damn.”
“Is that a problem?” Sheff asked. “Perhaps she’s taking care of a personal matter.”
Snapping her gaze to his, Jo smirked. “I’m surprised you would think of such a thing.”
Sheff wasn’t sure if he ought to be offended or amused. “Why?”
Jo lifted a shoulder, which was covered by the slightly puffed sleeve of her otherwise austere blue gown. “Because you are a rogue with little consideration for the fairer sex.”
Touching his chest in mock affront, Sheff sucked in a breath. “I have great consideration for the fairer sex. Some would argue too much,” he added with a comical leer that prompted her to laugh, which had been his goal. Straightening his expression, he added, “I also have a sister and an almost sister, and I know that sometimes a lady just needs a moment—or ten—alone.”
