property, which I wish to return to the Lambourn estate, her various inheritances will remain hers to do with as she pleases." Charles's brows rose. "That is indeed generous." His gaze grew distant. "I have to admit that my marriage was arranged…" After a moment, he refocused on Gyles. "I fear I must ask, cousin—is there any particular reason you're so insistent your marriage be an arranged one?"
"If you mean do I have a mistress of long standing whom I don't wish to set aside, or something of that nature, the answer is no." Gyles considered Charles, considered his open and honest brown eyes. "The reason I wish to keep my marriage—every aspect of it—on a businesslike footing is because I have absolutely no patience with the concept of love in marriage. It's a highly overrated circumstance—one, moreover, with which I desire no closer acquaintance. I do not wish my prospective wife to entertain any notion that I offer love, either now or in some rosy-hued future. From the first, I want her to know that love is not part of our equation. I see no benefit in raising the prospect, and will and do insist that my intent is made clear from the outset."
Charles regarded him for some time, then nodded. "It could be said that you're only being more honest than others who think the same."
Gyles made no answer.
"Very well—I now understand what you're seeking, but why consider Francesca?"
"Because of the Gatting property. It was, centuries ago, a dower property. Indeed, it was probably the reason for an arranged marriage back then—the property completes the circle of my Lambourn lands. It should never have been separated, but because it wasn't part of the entail, some misguided ancestor bequeathed it to a younger son, and that became something of a tradition…" Gyles frowned. "Gerrard was the elder, wasn't he? How is it you inherited this place and he inherited Gatting?"
"My father." Charles grimaced. "He fell out with Gerrard, as it happens because Gerrard refused to marry as he'd arranged. Gerrard married for love and went to Italy, while
"Made the arranged marriage your brother refused?"
Charles nodded. "So Papa reorganized his will. Gerrard got the Gatting property, which I should have received, and I got the Hall." He smiled. "Gerrard didn't give a damn. Even after Papa died, he remained in Italy."
"Until he died. How did that happen?"
"A boating accident on Lake Lugano one night. No one knew until the next day. Both Gerrard and Katrina drowned."
"And so Francesca came to you."
"Yes. She's been with us for nearly two years."
"How would you describe her?"
"Francesca?" Charles's expression softened. "She's a wonderful girl! A breath of fresh air and a beam of sunshine in one. It's odd, but although she's quite lively, she's also restful—a contradiction, I know, but…" Charles looked at Gyles.
"I understand she's twenty-three. Is there some reason she hasn't married?"
"Not specifically. Prior to their deaths, Gerrard and Katrina, and Francesca, too, had discussed addressing the question of a husband more seriously, but the accident intervened. Francesca was adamant on observing the full period of mourning—she was an only child and greatly attached to her parents. So it was only a year or so ago that she started going about." Charles grimaced lightly. "For reasons with which I won't burden you, we don't entertain. Francesca attends the assemblies and the local dances under the auspices of Lady Willingdon, one of our neighbors…" Charles's recital died away. Gyles raised a brow. "What?"
Charles regarded him speculatively, then seemed to come to some decision. "For the past year, Francesca has been actively looking for a husband. It was at her request I solicited the help of Lady Willingdon."
"And has she met anyone she considers suitable?"
"No. Indeed, I believe she's quite despondent over finding any suitable prospect locally." Gyles regarded Charles steadily. "Indelicate question though it is, do you
"If you mean do I have a mistress of long standing whom I don't wish to set aside, or something of that nature, the answer is no." Gyles considered Charles, considered his open and honest brown eyes. "The reason I wish to keep my marriage—every aspect of it—on a businesslike footing is because I have absolutely no patience with the concept of love in marriage. It's a highly overrated circumstance—one, moreover, with which I desire no closer acquaintance. I do not wish my prospective wife to entertain any notion that I offer love, either now or in some rosy-hued future. From the first, I want her to know that love is not part of our equation. I see no benefit in raising the prospect, and will and do insist that my intent is made clear from the outset."
Charles regarded him for some time, then nodded. "It could be said that you're only being more honest than others who think the same."
Gyles made no answer.
"Very well—I now understand what you're seeking, but why consider Francesca?"
"Because of the Gatting property. It was, centuries ago, a dower property. Indeed, it was probably the reason for an arranged marriage back then—the property completes the circle of my Lambourn lands. It should never have been separated, but because it wasn't part of the entail, some misguided ancestor bequeathed it to a younger son, and that became something of a tradition…" Gyles frowned. "Gerrard was the elder, wasn't he? How is it you inherited this place and he inherited Gatting?"
"My father." Charles grimaced. "He fell out with Gerrard, as it happens because Gerrard refused to marry as he'd arranged. Gerrard married for love and went to Italy, while
"Made the arranged marriage your brother refused?"
Charles nodded. "So Papa reorganized his will. Gerrard got the Gatting property, which I should have received, and I got the Hall." He smiled. "Gerrard didn't give a damn. Even after Papa died, he remained in Italy."
"Until he died. How did that happen?"
"A boating accident on Lake Lugano one night. No one knew until the next day. Both Gerrard and Katrina drowned."
"And so Francesca came to you."
"Yes. She's been with us for nearly two years."
"How would you describe her?"
"Francesca?" Charles's expression softened. "She's a wonderful girl! A breath of fresh air and a beam of sunshine in one. It's odd, but although she's quite lively, she's also restful—a contradiction, I know, but…" Charles looked at Gyles.
"I understand she's twenty-three. Is there some reason she hasn't married?"
"Not specifically. Prior to their deaths, Gerrard and Katrina, and Francesca, too, had discussed addressing the question of a husband more seriously, but the accident intervened. Francesca was adamant on observing the full period of mourning—she was an only child and greatly attached to her parents. So it was only a year or so ago that she started going about." Charles grimaced lightly. "For reasons with which I won't burden you, we don't entertain. Francesca attends the assemblies and the local dances under the auspices of Lady Willingdon, one of our neighbors…" Charles's recital died away. Gyles raised a brow. "What?"
Charles regarded him speculatively, then seemed to come to some decision. "For the past year, Francesca has been actively looking for a husband. It was at her request I solicited the help of Lady Willingdon."
"And has she met anyone she considers suitable?"
"No. Indeed, I believe she's quite despondent over finding any suitable prospect locally." Gyles regarded Charles steadily. "Indelicate question though it is, do you
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