Almost immediately, Clayton wished he had not said that. Auric smirked at his obvious discomfort. It occurred to Clayton then, not for the first time, that the lack of chair in front of the desk was, as everything else in Auric’s life, carefully curated to cause discomfort and awkwardness in others.
“I’m quite comfortable here,” Auric responded.
“Now. I suspect you will know what I am talking about when I mention the name Lady Isolde Belford.”
For one heart-stopping moment, Clayton thought that Auric had found out about the wager.
Shame and anger filtered through him, coupled with the humiliating knowledge that if Auric was angry about the wager, he would be, for once in his life, right.
Then Auric continued speaking and destroyed that illusion.
“I read that scandal sheet article; you know. It’s clear the girl is making a play for you.”
Clayton let out a long, slow breath. “Oh, that article was nonsense. She has no interest in me.”
Auric eyed him. “I find that difficult to believe. A woman of her age and position will be tearing out her hair by now. She’s overestimated her power, going after a gentleman like you. She’d be better going after an older gentleman, or one of the plain old Misters cluttering up Society these days. She’s no debutante. In fact, she’s quite past her best. I wonder how she has the gall to present herself in Society at all.”
And just like that, the anger was back. It filtered coldly through him, raising goosebumps on his skin.
“Lady Isolde is three and twenty, I believe,” Clayton said, voice clipped. “She is hardly old.”
Auric harrumphed. “She’s past it, boy. What fool man would marry a woman of that age when there’s fresh young seventeen-year-old girls coming out every year?”
“I do not want to marry a seventeen-year-old child, sir.”
There must have been something about his tone that irritated Auric more than usual. He paused, glancing up at his son, and narrowed his eyes.
“You seem to believe that your marriage concerns only yourself.”
“Am I wrong?”
“Naturally you are wrong. I care not if you choose not to marry, and let your estate and title pass away to some distant cousin, or even go extinct altogether. But if you do marry, I must consider how your choice of wife will affect me and my family. And marrying a pathetic, grasping spinster will be a great shame indeed.”
Clayton found himself breathless. The anger was intense, and he didn’t even like the woman.
He was attracted to her, certainly, but that was all, and she was remarkably beautiful. She was also intelligent, he had to admit, but again, that was just a plain fact. It was natural that he should admire her, really.
Before he could speak, however, Auric continued, waving a hand dismissively in the air.
“But I can see that you have no interest in the woman, thankfully, so it’s of no matter. I simply wanted to set my mind at rest.”
Later, Clayton would reflect on that moment, and on the excellent opportunity he had had to end the conversation on a positive note and preserve his father’s moderate good mood for the rest of the day.
A fine opportunity, indeed.
Instead of smiling and agreeing politely, Clayton took two steps forward, planting both hands on the desk and leaning forward.
“Lady Isolde is a better woman than you could ever comprehend,” he hissed. “She is beautiful, intellectual, and a lady I truly admire. How could you possibly understand her? You, who took away your own daughter’s beloved dolls simply because you cannot think of her as a child anymore, but a woman ready for you to marry off for your own benefit within a few years. She is a child, do you hear me? A child, and it is her birthday!”
Red-faced, Auric rose to his feet. “You wretched boy. She is my child, and therefore mine to dispose of. I thought I had taught you better, or have you forgotten that lesson?”
He pointed with one shaking finger to the cane hanging above the fireplace. Clayton’s vision actually blurred with rage for a moment.
“You lay one hand on those children,” he whispered, voice low and sibilant, “let alone touching them with that stick, and I’ll lay hands on you.”
Auric sneered. “Perhaps that dried up old spinster would be a good match for you, after all.”
“If you mean to insult me by saying I should marry Lady Isolde Belford, I can assure you it is not working. It is not the sweeping insult you believe it is. And my point still stands – they are my siblings, after all.”
