“Yes, and she is more beautiful than I thought. Her eyes are completely enraptur—”
“A duke’s sister?”
“Yes.”
“So what’s wrong with her?”
Thad leaned back in his chair, a little stunned. “What do you mean?”
George faced him more fully and leaned forward. “Beautiful. Dowry. A duke brother with enough blunt to pay off your debt to the Lyon. So why isn’t she out doing the Marriage Mart? Balls. Soirees. Frequent visits to the modiste. What’s wrong with her that they would have to go to the Lyon’s Den?”
Thad’s mouth felt dry. “Mrs. Dove-Lyon said they needed her to marry before her brother left for India. He’s some advisor to a company, the government—I am not sure, somebody important. He and his wife will be there for a long time.”
“And there’s no one else who can escort her through a season.”
Thad tried to shake away the confusion. “Her mother has returned to the family estate, up near the Scottish border. Her brother’s in-laws, perhaps... George, what are you implying?”
“I’m not implying anything, except that it’s odd. It’s unusual for a woman to be so desperate to marry, more so than just her brother leaving the country. What did your father say again?”
Thad stilled, closing his eyes. “He considered it inconsequential. His word. Did not want to pay our solicitor to review it.”
George cheeks flushed and he stood, crossing to the liquor bottles. He poured whisky into two glasses, downed the liquid in one and refilled it, then handed the other to Thad. He sat again, studying Thad. “You have to sign—or not—tomorrow?”
Thad sipped and nodded. “Ten.”
George downed his whisky. “Sign or not, just know I think you’re getting into more than you’ve bargained for.”
“How so?”
George set down the glass and picked up the contract, flipped two pages, then pointed to a paragraph. “This. I worked with my father on both my sister’s wedding contracts, and neither had something like this in them: ‘Any children born to either partner, in whatever circumstance, shall be acknowledged by both when confirmed by one and have the right to claim either family’s name with mutual agreement of all parties, without claim to resources of the same.’ What does that even mean?”
“They wanted to be sure I had no by-blows hiding in the hedges.”
“Then they don’t know you as well as you thought they did.”
Thad’s face grew warm. “George . . .”
George laid the contract aside. “What if that was not aboutyourby-blows?”
The implication horrified Thad. “George! You can’t think—”
“I think you need to find out what’s truly going on. Go to your solicitor. I’ll pay for it. You may have to sign this tomorrow, but you need to know a great deal more about this woman before you stand before the vicar.”
“You are suggesting—”
“That your perfect angel may be with child.”
Chapter Four
Thursday, 27 April 1826
The Lyon’s Den, Whitehall, London
Ten in the morning
As the clockin Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s office chimed the hour of ten, the weight that had settled on Mary’s shoulders the last twenty-four hours felt like a burden not even two of the best workhorses at Kirkstone Abbey, their family estate, should have to bear. It ate at her mind and her soul, and a low anger had begun to brew deep inside as she wished to be free of all this. She shifted in the armchair as Kit paced behind her, a growly hound eager for the hunt.
So much had changed in so little time. Six months before, Mary had been a disgraced younger sister who had survived the worst of trials. She then found herself surrounded by two loving and devoted families, her only concerns being her daughter, Mina—who spent most of her time with a nanny—and new gowns for Mary’s upcoming debut. Then, at Christmas, Kit had received a vital position, a royal appointment, that would be taking him and Beth and their two wards to India. Upon hearing that news, their mother, who had come to London afterthe grand Christmas ball at the country estate of the Duke and Duchess of Kennet, had fled back to Kirkstone, unwilling to face alone the pressure of a Society season with Mary, despite all the previous claims to the contrary.
