Chapter Three
Cyrus could not believe the information Rebbie had just revealed. Lady Grey was a merchant's daughter? How the devil had she duped a baron into marrying her? He'd probably fallen for her great beauty.
Rebbie shook his head. "'Tis no jest. Her father owned the tenements and clothing shops which she now runs."
'Slud. A merchant's daughter who had become a lady when she'd married a baron. She was exactly the type of woman Cyrus had learned to avoid long ago. A moneygrubbing social climber from a poor background.
"I would advise you to stay away from her," Cyrus warned Fraser.
"Why should I? She's unattached… and wealthy, by all appearances."
His mood darkening, Cyrus clenched his jaw.
"Are you looking for a wife?" Rebbie sipped his whisky.
Fraser chuckled. "Nay. I have no need of one."
"You ken how he is, always chasing the lasses." Dermott glared.
"Shamus didn't need a wife either, but he's blissfully happy, aye?"
"Sickeningly so." Fraser grimaced.
Rebbie laughed. "As am I, and I highly recommend it." He turned to Cyrus. "Do you think you can make my sister happy?"
Frowning, Cyrus sat back and contemplated the answer. He'd never thought about whether he would make his future wife happy. But if he revealed that he found it of little concern, Rebbie might discourage the match.
Cyrus forced his annoyance to the back of his mind. "Of course. Why would she not be?"
"We must talk, my friend. I fear you're in for a rude awakening on the day you wed." Rebbie grinned.
"'Tis not a foreign concept. My parents had a strong marriage." Cyrus sipped the well-aged whisky, enjoying the peaty warmth in the back of his throat.
Rebbie nodded. "As do Dirk and Isobel, but I'm wondering if you have the time and patience for it."
Cyrus shrugged. "I admit I have much to occupy my time, aside from worrying over a woman's happiness. I'm hoping Lady Lily will find joy in raising our bairns and running a castle."
"Well, the lass is a mite spoiled. You ken how my father is. He gives my sisters whatever they want. I fear she will be like me and delay choosing a mate until she's a bit older."
Hell, what if Lily rejected him? Cyrus had not seriously considered it. Unthinkingly, he had assumed she would want to marry him since he'd received his new title. But, of course, her father's title was a step above his own. 'Haps she wished to marry a marquess or a duke.
"I'm guessing Lily is holding out for a love match," Rebbie continued. "She lives in a dream world and is most likely looking for a charming prince."
"Can you play the role of charming prince?" Fraser teased Cyrus.
Frustration twisted in his chest. "Nay, but I believe I can be a good husband. I'll provide whatever a wife might need or want—jewels, silken gowns, lavish furnishings, servants." He shrugged. "I'm having a new castle built."
"For some women, worldly goods account for little." Dirk sent him a pointed glance.
"You're speaking of my sister." Cyrus wondered if all women were as persnickety and fussy as Isobel.
"Aye."
"Do you truly want a cold and loveless marriage?" Rebbie turned serious, all teasing aside.
Cyrus had not expected the man to speak so frankly. "Sentiment complicates things and is unnecessary. There are a great many marriages among the nobility that have naught to do with feelings."
"'Tis true. Most are that way, but I thank God I don't have such a marriage." Rebbie shook his head. "'Twould be misery."
