belonging to the Marquess of Claverbrook, was traditionally granted to the heir as his home and main source of income.Duncan had always considered it his, by right of the fact that he was the heir after his father's death, even though he had not lived there for years. He had never taken Laura there.
“No answer,” the marquess said after a lengthy silence, a nasty sneer in his voice. “I produced one son, who died at the age of forty-four when he had no more sense than to engage in a curricle race and try to overtake his opponent on a sharp bend in the road. And that one son produced one son of his own. You.”
It did not sound like a compliment.
“He did, sir,”Duncan agreed. What else was there to say?
“Where did I go wrong?” his grandfather asked irritably and rhetorically. “My brother produced five lusty sons before he produced any of his daughters, and those five in their turn produced eleven lusty sons of their own, at least two each. And some of them have produced sons.”
“And so, sir,”Duncan said, seeing where this was leading, “there is no danger of the title falling into abeyance anytime soon, is there? There is no urgent hurry for me to get a son.”
It was the wrong thing to say—though there probably was no right thing.
The cane thumped the floor again.
“I daresay the title will pass to Norman in the not-too-distant future,” his grandfather said, “after my time and after yours, which will not last even as long as your father's if you continue with the low life you have chosen. I intend to treat him as though he were already my heir. I will grant himWoodbinePark on my eightieth birthday.”
Duncan's back stiffened as if someone had delivered him a physical blow. He closed his eyes briefly. This was the final straw. It was bad enough—nothing short of a disaster, in fact—that Woodbine and its rents were being withheld from him . But to think of Cousin Norman
, of all people, benefiting from his loss … Well, it was a viciously low blow.
“Normanhas a wife and two sons,” the marquess told him. “As well as a daughter. Now, there is a man who knows his duty.”
Yes, indeed.
BothNorman 's father and his grandfather were dead. He was the next heir afterDuncan . He also had a shrewd head on his shoulders.
He had married Caroline Turner six weeks afterDuncan abandoned her on their wedding day, and he had apparently got three children off her, two of them sons. He had taken all the right steps to ingratiate himself with his great-uncle.
Duncanfrowned down at the empty square beyond the window.
Though it was not quite empty. A maid was down on her hands and knees scrubbing the steps of a house on the opposite side.
DidNorman know that Woodbine was to all intents and purposes to be his in sixteen days’ time?
“If I had written down that promise I made on your seventieth birthday, sir,” Duncan said, “and if you had kept it, I believe you would discover now that my promise really was to marry by your eightieth birthday rather than my thirtieth, though they both fall in the same year, of course.”
His grandfather snorted again—a sound that conveyed utter contempt.
“And what do you plan to do when you leave here in a few minutes’
time, Sheringford?” he asked. “Grab the first female you meet on the street and drag her off in pursuit of a special license?”
Something like that. When one had been brought up to be a well-to-do gentleman, to administer land, to expect to inherit an illustrious title and fabulous wealth one day, one was not educated or trained to any other form of gainful employment. Not any that would give him sufficient income to support dependents, including a child, as well as keep his own body and soul together, anyway.
“Not at all.”Duncan turned to look steadily at his grandfather. “I have a bride picked out, sir. We are already unofficially betrothed, in fact, even though there has been no public announcement
“No answer,” the marquess said after a lengthy silence, a nasty sneer in his voice. “I produced one son, who died at the age of forty-four when he had no more sense than to engage in a curricle race and try to overtake his opponent on a sharp bend in the road. And that one son produced one son of his own. You.”
It did not sound like a compliment.
“He did, sir,”Duncan agreed. What else was there to say?
“Where did I go wrong?” his grandfather asked irritably and rhetorically. “My brother produced five lusty sons before he produced any of his daughters, and those five in their turn produced eleven lusty sons of their own, at least two each. And some of them have produced sons.”
“And so, sir,”Duncan said, seeing where this was leading, “there is no danger of the title falling into abeyance anytime soon, is there? There is no urgent hurry for me to get a son.”
It was the wrong thing to say—though there probably was no right thing.
The cane thumped the floor again.
“I daresay the title will pass to Norman in the not-too-distant future,” his grandfather said, “after my time and after yours, which will not last even as long as your father's if you continue with the low life you have chosen. I intend to treat him as though he were already my heir. I will grant himWoodbinePark on my eightieth birthday.”
Duncan's back stiffened as if someone had delivered him a physical blow. He closed his eyes briefly. This was the final straw. It was bad enough—nothing short of a disaster, in fact—that Woodbine and its rents were being withheld from him . But to think of Cousin Norman
, of all people, benefiting from his loss … Well, it was a viciously low blow.
“Normanhas a wife and two sons,” the marquess told him. “As well as a daughter. Now, there is a man who knows his duty.”
Yes, indeed.
BothNorman 's father and his grandfather were dead. He was the next heir afterDuncan . He also had a shrewd head on his shoulders.
He had married Caroline Turner six weeks afterDuncan abandoned her on their wedding day, and he had apparently got three children off her, two of them sons. He had taken all the right steps to ingratiate himself with his great-uncle.
Duncanfrowned down at the empty square beyond the window.
Though it was not quite empty. A maid was down on her hands and knees scrubbing the steps of a house on the opposite side.
DidNorman know that Woodbine was to all intents and purposes to be his in sixteen days’ time?
“If I had written down that promise I made on your seventieth birthday, sir,” Duncan said, “and if you had kept it, I believe you would discover now that my promise really was to marry by your eightieth birthday rather than my thirtieth, though they both fall in the same year, of course.”
His grandfather snorted again—a sound that conveyed utter contempt.
“And what do you plan to do when you leave here in a few minutes’
time, Sheringford?” he asked. “Grab the first female you meet on the street and drag her off in pursuit of a special license?”
Something like that. When one had been brought up to be a well-to-do gentleman, to administer land, to expect to inherit an illustrious title and fabulous wealth one day, one was not educated or trained to any other form of gainful employment. Not any that would give him sufficient income to support dependents, including a child, as well as keep his own body and soul together, anyway.
“Not at all.”Duncan turned to look steadily at his grandfather. “I have a bride picked out, sir. We are already unofficially betrothed, in fact, even though there has been no public announcement
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