George stood up so fast, his chair toppled over. He stalked to the other end of the table and leaned over his mother. In a menacing tone, he said, “You forbid it? Mother, may I remind you that I’m the Marquis of Hutchinson, not you. You may have controlled Father with your machinations, but I’m done listening to you. If you don’t like my decision or cannot be cordial to Miss Weston, you may retire to the country.”
“You’d banish me from my home?”
“In case you’ve forgotten, Madam, this ismyhome, and I alone have the power to say who lives here. Do I make myself clear?”
George saw the color drain from his mother’s face and knew he’d have felt guilty a few months ago. Not anymore.. He was done trying to please her. He’d tried for nearly ten months to be as sympathetic and helpful as he could while she dealt with her grief, but he was done catering to her every whim. He’d finally realized that his mother would never care for him the way she cared for his brothers, and it was time to follow his own dreams. Before Grace could recover from the shock of his announcement, he strode out of the room.
It was time to take control of his life. He called for the butler.
“You require something, my lord?” Peters asked.
“Yes. Have my horse saddled.”
Peters nodded and went to do his bidding while George went upstairs to change. He wanted to look his best when he asked Mr. Weston for Lydia’s hand in marriage. His mother pressing him to have him marry Miss Darvey was the last straw. He would take control of his life, and no one was going to deny him his most fervent desire. He just needed to convince Mr. Weston that he was worthy of Lydia’s hand. By the time he finished changing, his horse was waiting outside with a groom.
“He’s a little antsy today, my lord,” the groom said.
“Seems we all are,” Hutchinson said and vaulted into the saddle. He patted the stallion’s neck. “Come on, boy. We have a very important task to attend to.”
It didn’t take long to reach the Weston townhouse, where a groom appeared to take care of his horse. “No need to unsaddle him; I won’t be long,” Hutchinson said.
“Yes, my lord,” the groom said, leading the horse to the mews.
Hutchinson bounded up the stairs and let the knocker fall.
“Lord Hutchinson, a pleasure to see you again,” the butler said, opening the door.
Hutchinson nodded. “I know it’s early for morning calls, but I’d like a word with Mr. Weston if he’s available.”
“Of course, my lord,” Prescott said, stepping back to allow him inside. “Please wait in the parlor for a moment, and I’ll see if Mr. Weston is free.”
Now that he’d arrived at the Weston home, George’s nerves were getting the best of him. What if Mr. Weston denied his suit? What would he do then? As much as he hated to admit it, the Hutchinson estate needed the influx of cash that Lydia’s dowry would bring. Of course that wasn’t the reason he wanted to marry her. He loved her more than life itself and vowed to be the best husband he could if she accepted his proposal. First, though, he needed her father’s permission again. It had been ten months since he first asked and his circumstances had changed so he hoped Mr. Weston would still give his permission for him to marry Lydia.
“Lord Hutchinson, Mr. Weston will see you now. Please follow me.”
Hutchinson nodded and followed the butler down the hall. Prescott opened the door and announced him.
Thomas Weston was seated behind his large oak desk and stood when George walked in. “Lord Hutchinson, to what do I owe this most unexpected visit? It’s not every day a marquis comes calling.”
George was taken aback by the abruptness of the question but decided it was a good thing to get straight to the point and gain the permission he needed as soon as possible.
“Please have a seat,” Weston said, sitting down.
George took the chair in front of the desk. “Mr. Weston, I’m here to ask your permission—”
Before he could finish his request, they heard loud voices in the hallway.
“What now?” Thomas said, clearly annoyed at the disturbance.
The voices were becoming louder, and then George heard Prescott say, “My lord, this is most unorthodox. You cannot barge in here.”
“I will see him now! Where is he? You can either tell me where he is or I’ll search every room in this house until I find him.”
“Excuse me a moment. I must see what’s going on,” Thomas said, but before he could go see who was in his home, the door to his study flew open and to George’s shock, Lord Surry stormed in.
“Weston! How dare you?”
Thomas jumped up from his chair. “How dare I? How dare you barge into my home? You aren’t welcome here! Now get out!”
