Page 95 of Earl on the Run (The Duke's Estates 2)

“Distasteful? Grubby? Vulgar?” Lady Wilton had certainly said as much.

Tereford shrugged. “I suppose there’s a good deal of envy involved. Fortunes are being made in trade these days, while some of the ancient families teeter on the edge of ruin.”

“We may be in rags, but we have our lineage?” Jack suggested.

The duke examined him. “You are going to be a breath of fresh air in the House of Lords.”

Would he be? Jack wasn’t certain whether he’d bother. On the other hand, he could imagine speeches that would make these lords sit up and take notice.

“But all I know is Winstead does some sort of trading,” Tereford added. “You should ask him. I daresay he would be happy to tell you about his business.”

Jack nodded. Perhaps he would. It might even be interesting.

“You’re going to speak to him about the marriage settlements?”

Jack allowed him to think so.

He was received at Winstead Hall with a gratifying show of welcome and only a trace of surprise when he asked for its master rather than his fiancée. After a brief wait, he was ushered into Mr. Winstead’s study. A cowed young man, being hustled out as he entered the room, threw him a covert, curious glance. “The Earl of Ferrington,” Winstead said as he shooed the fellow away. “Going to marry my granddaughter.”

The young man murmured something that might have been a congratulation.

“You get that letter to Grankle today,” Winstead added.

“Yes, sir.” The weedy lad put a hand on his coat pocket as if to assure himself of its contents and went out.

“Sit down, my lord. You’ll take something, I hope? A glass of wine.”

Jack accepted the offer and the chair. Winstead, small and round but not the least jolly, sat down behind his large desk. He reminded Jack of a drawing he’d once seen in a book of fairy tales—a crafty gnome preparing to cheat the hero out of a hidden treasure. And then cut off his head, if Jack remembered correctly.

“I expect you’re here to discuss the marriage settlements, eh?” the older man continued.

There was to be no pretense of polite conversation then. Jack was relieved, as he had none to offer.

“Best to get things clear.” Winstead probably thought he was smiling. The effect was something else entirely. Predatory, Jack decided. “You needn’t worry that I’ll try to cozen you. We’ll have the documents drawn up all right and tight. The money to be settled on her at marriage. No loopholes for backing out.” He laughed as if this was a joke.

Jack tried to imagine having a granddaughter he would bargain over in this way. Without even mentioning her name. He couldn’t. He’d run a business. He’d negotiated bargains and made the best terms he could. But not about people he loved. Obviously, Winstead loved no one. Jack’s idea of asking about the man’s trade and possibly exploring some joint efforts died a definitive death. “There’s the matter of banns,” he said.

“Yes?” Winstead instantly looked suspicious. Clearly, it was his natural state.

“There’s no need…”

“Has that granddaughter of mine done something to put you off?” Winstead interrupted. “I’ll soon teach her better if she has. Don’t you worry aboutthat!”

“No,” Jack began.

“You can’t shab off now. Try it and I’ll ruin you.” His scowl was ferocious.

He was one of those men who must have every detail go his way or he threw a fit of temper. Jack had seen them before, and he didn’t think much of them. For them, power was oppression. It came to him that he could not leave Harriet and her mother in the clutches of this man, whatever happened. “There’s no question of that,” he said.

“There had better not be. I’ll make you pay.”

Jack didn’t think his influence would extend into the ranks of the English nobility. But there was his partner in Boston to consider. They did business in England. Jack summoned his father’s most refined accent. “It is simply that I’ve discovered banns are a bit…common,” he drawled. “Tereford told me so.” Let Winstead chew on that—the pronouncement of a duke.

“Eh?” The old man was brought up short. “Common?”

“And unnecessary,” Jack added. “The duke himself simply procured a license from the proper registry.” Parroting what Tereford had told him, he sounded supremely confident, which was the idea.

“We always did the banns,” Winstead replied.

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