turned to Tristan.
He smiled. “That’s quite a litany, but I fear I can trump all your tales.” He looked down, turning his tankard between his hands. “I, too, returned to find myself encumbered—with a title, two houses and a hunting box, and considerable wealth. However, both houses are home to an assortment of females, great-aunts, cousins, and other more distant connections. I inherited from my great-uncle, the recently departed third Earl of Trentham, who loathed his brother—my grandfather—and also my late father, and me.
“His argument was we were wastrel ne’er-do-wells who came and went as we pleased, traveled the world, and so on. In all fairness, I must say that now I’ve met my great-aunts and their female army, I can see the old boy’s point. He must have felt trapped by his position, sentenced to live his life surrounded by a tribe of doting, meddling females.”
A frisson, a shudder, ran around the table.
Tristan’s expression grew grim. “Consequently, when his own son’s son died, and then his son as well, and he realized I would inherit from him, he devised a devilish clause to his will. I’ve inherited title, land, and houses,and wealth for a year—but if I fail to marry within that year, I’ll be left with the title, the land, and the houses—all that’s entailed—but the bulk of the wealth, the funds needed to run the houses, will be given to various charities.”
There was silence, then Jack Warnefleet asked, “What would happen to the horde of old ladies?”
Tristan looked up, eyes narrow. “That’s the devilish heart of it—they’d remain my pensioners, in my houses. There’s nowhere else for them to go, and I could hardly turf them into the streets.”
All the others stared at him, appreciation of his predicament dawning in their faces.
“That’s a dastardly thing to do.” Gervase paused, then asked, “When’s your year up?”
“July.”
“So you’ve got next Season to make your choice.” Charles set his tankard down and pushed it away. “We’re all in large measure in the same boat. If I don’t find a wife by then, my sisters, sisters-in-law, and dear mother will drive me demented.”
“It’s not going to be plain sailing, I warn you.” Tony Blake glanced around the table. “After escaping from my godmother’s, I sought refuge in Boodles.” He shook his head. “Bad mistake. Within an hour, not one, but two gentlemen I’d never before met approached and asked me to dinner!”
“Set on in your club? ” Jack voiced their communal shock.
Grimly, Tony nodded. “And there was worse. I called in at the house and discovered a pile of invitations, literally a foot high. The butler said they’d started arriving the day after I’d sent word I’d be down—I’d warned my godmother I might drop in.”
Silence fell as they all digested that, extrapolated, considered…
Christian leaned forward. “Who else has been up to town?”
All the others shook their heads. They’d only recently returned to England and had gone straight to their estates.
“Very well,” Christian continued. “Does this mean that when next we each show our faces in town, we’ll be hounded like Tony?”
They all imagined it….
“Actually,” Deverell said, “it’s likely to be much worse. A lot of families are in mourning at the moment—even if they’re in town, they won’t be going about. The numbers calling should be down.”
They all looked at Tony, who shook his head. “Don’t know—I didn’t wait to find out.”
“But as Deverell says, it must be so.” Gervase’s face hardened. “But such mourning will end in good time for next Season, then the harpies will be out and about, looking for victims, more desperate and even more determined.”
“Hell!” Charles spoke for them all. “We’re going to be”—he gestured—“precisely the sort of targets we’ve spent the last decade not being. ”
Christian nodded, serious, sober. “In a
He smiled. “That’s quite a litany, but I fear I can trump all your tales.” He looked down, turning his tankard between his hands. “I, too, returned to find myself encumbered—with a title, two houses and a hunting box, and considerable wealth. However, both houses are home to an assortment of females, great-aunts, cousins, and other more distant connections. I inherited from my great-uncle, the recently departed third Earl of Trentham, who loathed his brother—my grandfather—and also my late father, and me.
“His argument was we were wastrel ne’er-do-wells who came and went as we pleased, traveled the world, and so on. In all fairness, I must say that now I’ve met my great-aunts and their female army, I can see the old boy’s point. He must have felt trapped by his position, sentenced to live his life surrounded by a tribe of doting, meddling females.”
A frisson, a shudder, ran around the table.
Tristan’s expression grew grim. “Consequently, when his own son’s son died, and then his son as well, and he realized I would inherit from him, he devised a devilish clause to his will. I’ve inherited title, land, and houses,and wealth for a year—but if I fail to marry within that year, I’ll be left with the title, the land, and the houses—all that’s entailed—but the bulk of the wealth, the funds needed to run the houses, will be given to various charities.”
There was silence, then Jack Warnefleet asked, “What would happen to the horde of old ladies?”
Tristan looked up, eyes narrow. “That’s the devilish heart of it—they’d remain my pensioners, in my houses. There’s nowhere else for them to go, and I could hardly turf them into the streets.”
All the others stared at him, appreciation of his predicament dawning in their faces.
“That’s a dastardly thing to do.” Gervase paused, then asked, “When’s your year up?”
“July.”
“So you’ve got next Season to make your choice.” Charles set his tankard down and pushed it away. “We’re all in large measure in the same boat. If I don’t find a wife by then, my sisters, sisters-in-law, and dear mother will drive me demented.”
“It’s not going to be plain sailing, I warn you.” Tony Blake glanced around the table. “After escaping from my godmother’s, I sought refuge in Boodles.” He shook his head. “Bad mistake. Within an hour, not one, but two gentlemen I’d never before met approached and asked me to dinner!”
“Set on in your club? ” Jack voiced their communal shock.
Grimly, Tony nodded. “And there was worse. I called in at the house and discovered a pile of invitations, literally a foot high. The butler said they’d started arriving the day after I’d sent word I’d be down—I’d warned my godmother I might drop in.”
Silence fell as they all digested that, extrapolated, considered…
Christian leaned forward. “Who else has been up to town?”
All the others shook their heads. They’d only recently returned to England and had gone straight to their estates.
“Very well,” Christian continued. “Does this mean that when next we each show our faces in town, we’ll be hounded like Tony?”
They all imagined it….
“Actually,” Deverell said, “it’s likely to be much worse. A lot of families are in mourning at the moment—even if they’re in town, they won’t be going about. The numbers calling should be down.”
They all looked at Tony, who shook his head. “Don’t know—I didn’t wait to find out.”
“But as Deverell says, it must be so.” Gervase’s face hardened. “But such mourning will end in good time for next Season, then the harpies will be out and about, looking for victims, more desperate and even more determined.”
“Hell!” Charles spoke for them all. “We’re going to be”—he gestured—“precisely the sort of targets we’ve spent the last decade not being. ”
Christian nodded, serious, sober. “In a
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