His father huffed. “No, she has managed to insert her claws into you and you are too weak to pull them out.”
“Au contraire,” Greydon said. “Lady Enid has already turned down my offer of marriage because she is worried about damaging my reputation.”
“That is the first sensible thing that girl has done,” his father muttered.
“I won’t lose her. I will prove to her that I am the man for her.”
His father shook his head. “You are such a disappointment.”
Rising, Greydon said, “I am sorry you feel that way, but my mind is made up. You may as well resign yourself to that fact.”
“You are making a mistake.”
“I don’t believe I am,” he said. “But if I am, it is my mistake to make.”
His father reached for a piece of paper and held it up. “Have you at least had a chance to look over the accounts that I left for you to review?”
“I have not, but I shall do so today.”
His father rose and walked over to the drink cart. “You are going to put me into an early grave,” he said. “Speaking of which, Phineas’ funeral is in two days’ time. Are you going to grace us with your presence?”
“I am, but it was in bad form that you only sent word to Helena about the arrangements.”
Picking up the decanter, his father asked, “What would you have me do? Should I roll out a red carpet for her?”
“You are neglecting Helena, your daughter.”
“I know she is my daughter,” his father snapped. “How could I forget, considering she is the spitting image of her mother?”
“That isn’t her fault.”
“No, but I don’t have time to run across Town every time I need to speak to her,” his father argued as he poured himself a drink. “It is much easier to have a servant send word.”
Greydon gave his father a knowing look. “You are putting her off on purpose, but it won’t work.”
“You know not what you speak of.”
“I know more than you realize.”
His father placed the decanter down and picked up his glass. “Fine,” he said. “If you are so insistent, we shall invite them to dine with us this evening.”
“That would be a start.”
“I do not know what good it will do,” his father muttered as he brought the glass to his lips.
Greydon knew he shouldn’t engage his father, but when had he done what he should have? “You have changed, Father.”
His father gave him a bored look. “I am the same man I have always been.”
“That isn’t true,” Greydon contended. “You used to smile, but I haven’t seen one since Mother passed away.”
“What is there to be happy about?” his father demanded.
“You still have me and Helena.”
“Oh, happy day,” his father declared. “Should I run up and down the streets and scream ‘Hallelujah’?”
Greydon shook his head. “You are pigheaded.”
