“Oh, don’t give in to despair,” Bancroft said, somewhat dismissively. “Fortunes are always changing one way or the other. You merely need a good turn of the tide.”
“‘Turn of the tide,’” Sebastian scoffed. Tossing back another burning drink, he added, “It’d be one hell of a turn.”
Browning gave him far more sympathy. “And there is nothing else? No land producing money? Nothing more to sell off?”
Sebastian shook his head. “My father was not a great steward of his holdings. A lot of land has gone fallow. Most of what hekept up was here in London, for his own pleasure, and it scarcely produces anything more than bastards, if his mistresses are unlucky.”
Reginald flinched at his coarse language. Sebastian told himself to reign things in; for all the rage he felt against his father, he would not allow himself to be the apple so close to the proverbial tree.
“After I sell everything, there will not be enough to turn my own tide. And I cannot borrow enough to do so without great gamble, as I would not be able to pay back even a fraction if my investments did not turn out. I believe I have thoroughly been painted into a corner, and my mother and Georgiana alongside me.”
Reginald nodded. “Welcome to the burden of being a gentleman. Suddenly every woman in your life is completely dependent upon you.”
After a pause, his friend cocked his head, a thought having struck him. “I know it might be a bit uncouth to suggest, but have you considered marrying? Even a modest dowry would be enough to put you back in working order.”
Sebastian had, in fact. The idea had lingered in the shadows of his mind, refusing to step out into the forefront. Now, it took its turn in center stage, ready to dazzle.
“I…” he groaned, running his hand along his face in resignation. “I don’t know that I could do it.”
This was the truth of the matter. He was thirty and one. It was certainly not the first time he’d had to think of marriage. In the past, though, he’d always thought about it with certain expectations. Children, fidelity, perhaps even real love or, failing that, fondness. He’d never considered it as a business prospect.
But it was, wasn’t it? For the lady as well as himself. For her,whoever she was, it would be to gain the protection of his title. For him, it would be to take over her dowry and try, in as fast a manner as he could, to turn it into a fortune before the debtors came knocking.
“I have heard, through some sources, that Miss Bloomdale’s dowry is as much as fifty thousand.”
Sebastian nearly fell out of his seat at hearing the number. He’d heard of large dowries, but that price was nearly extortion for all it could convince a man.
“And what is so wrong with her, then?” he asked, though a part of him struggled to care much about the answer. Fifty thousand pounds to a man facing ruin was a great balm, indeed.
Bancroft snorted with laughter. “What is not wrong with her?”
Sebastian’s brow furrowed in confusion. “I have seen her in ballrooms. She is not an ugly woman, and rather composed. What is her fault?”
“She is about the silliest creature I have ever met,” Bancroft said plainly, even unkindly. “Never once have I met a girl who tittered on for so long about absolutely nothing at all. And her voice is shrill. I cannot judge you in your current circumstances, of course, but I would advise you to at least dance with her a few times before you offer a proposal. I daresay you shall see exactly what I speak of, and will be able to know if it is a defect you could live with.”
Fifty thousand pounds no longer sounded so enticing. He hated silly people. Whenever he was in the company of one, he found that he grew embarrassed on their behalf, though they themselves rarely felt such shame.
That had to be the worst thing in the world, in his mind - to have a wife who was embarrassing. He could tolerate so many other vices. Shyness. Prudishness. Gullibility. But to have a woman byhis side who caused tiny scandals everywhere she went was a true sentence to societal death.
“Nevermind Miss Bloomdale,” he shrugged. “Bancroft, it seems that you are more attuned to the ladies of thetonthan either I or Browning. What say you about my future prospects?”
Bancroft winced. “They are bleak, if I am honest. I am sure you think it uncharitable of me to say, but the young women these days are not what they used to be. They do not know their manners well, and so many of them behave like chits as if it is attractive. Or worse, they deem themselves so superior in intelligence that they go on and on about any and all subjects as if they are experts.”
“It sounds as if all ladies grate on you at all times, regardless of virtue,” Sebastian quipped. In doing so, some of that tightness in his chest abated, and he felt freer.
Quickly humbled, Bancroft conceded. “There are some admirable women in the world, of course, but I do find that most are ridiculous.” Glancing quickly from Sebastian to Browning, he added, “Sisters of present company notwithstanding, I assure you.”
Browning rolled his eyes, then looked about the room. “I am going to go and procure more cigars. I have a feeling that this is going to be a longer discussion than anticipated.”
On a hunt, he disappeared into the adjoining room. In his absence, Bancroft leaned in closer and spoke discreetly.
“I will write a list for you, Brightwater.” Grabbing a nearby set of stationary, he returned to his seat and began writing. “There are only a handful of young women whose dowries make up for whatever defects of character they display. Stick with this list, and you may find that you are not so sorry for your future self.”
Though he did not concede as much, Sebastian was gratefulfor such direction. Bancroft was a bulldog in all aspects of his life - personal, professional, political. He knew everything about everyone, especially if there was sordid information to be wielded. Whatever names he gave would surely be the cream of the crop so far as Sebastian’s options went.
In a rushed flourish, Bancroft finished his list and handed it over. Sebastian read through the hastily-written names, recognizing most of them. It was the final name on the list that gave him pause.
Miss Augusta Browning.
