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“Anthony was a coward. He could never stand up to you, and in the end, it killed him.”
“He died of a fever!”
“Yes, a fever contracted when you sent him to a house sick with fever to steal papers from your dying father. He was warned not to go, but he was afraid of disappointing you, afraid of your anger if he did not. He was barely thirty years of age and had as much spine as a worm.”
Pale hands trembled violently, grasping the gold head of his cane, and the earl brought it up in a swift motion to lash out at Colter. It caught him across the chest, a slight brush that did no harm as Colter easily evaded the brunt of the blow. His father’s face was contorted in a snarl.
“Curse you! You’re a disgrace!”
“Yes. I agree. I’ve definitely been cursed.”
Colter turned on his heel and left with his father’s angry words still echoing in the room while Brewster tried to soothe him. A familiar end to their interviews, and as unpleasant as always.
He found the countess in her private sitting room. “I take it the interview went as usual,” she remarked as she closed the book she’d been reading. “Not even an entire wing of rooms can muffle his rage.”
“It’s always the same,” he replied. “What are you reading?”
“Ivanhoe by Sir Walter Scott. I find it entertaining. Have you read it?”
“Yes.” Too restless to sit, Colter moved to the wide windows and stared out. “I’m leaving tomorrow for the country and will be gone for a week or two.”
“At the beginning of winter?”
“It’s barely October, and I feel the need of a change of pace. If I remain here much longer, you’ll have me attending every ball, rout and soirée given by your untiring friends. Tell me, do you ever run out of women who feel compelled to press their daughters on me?”
The countess laughed. “Never. But you have the solution to that dilemma within your means, you know.”
“Yes, I know. If I marry, I’ll no longer be expected to dance with nervous, tittering girls who are barely out of the schoolroom. That in itself should inspire me, but I find that choosing which brainless ninny to spend the rest of my life with is something of a problem.”
“Then marry an intelligent young lady. There are bluestockings aplenty underfoot if you take the time to look. They don’t all have to be Prime Articles or Incomparables, you know, but good breeding is required.”
Colter turned to face her again, a dark brow cocked. “You speak the cant much too freely, ma me`re. There are facets to your character that I’m beginning to think are much more devious than I always suspected.”
“Yes, Colter, I am much more aware of what goes on in this world than even you know.” She smiled, and suddenly she looked much younger, the light on her face a soft glow reflected in her blue eyes. “Since you’re going to the country, why don’t you invite a few companions to join you for a week?”
“What companions do you have in mind, may I ask? Or shall I make a calculated guess—suitable females and their deadly dull chaperones.”
“You’re far too clever for me. Yes, suitable females and their deadly dull chaperones sound just the thing. It would please me, Colter. I’m not getting any younger and neither are you. There must be an heir to carry on after we’re gone.”
His jaw set. It was a familiar argument.
“There’s no guarantee marrying will produce an heir,” he said. “Just look at our illustrious prince. Marriage to a shrew and still no surviving heir.”
His mother’s soft eyes grew cold and her mouth thinned into a disapproving line.
“Forgive me for saying it so baldly, but our prince is far too busy constructing monstrosities and swilling syllabubs to father a strong child on his wife. He has no sense of proper duty. He prefers actresses to wellborn women. I fear you are becoming much too similar, Colter, and I know you resent me saying it. Yet what else am I to think? Your predilections are fairly well-known, though few would dare speak of them to me, of course. And I hardly consider an actress to be suitable as your wife. You’re thirty-one years of age now, and it’s past time you provide an heir for the Moreland name and title. Whether you appreciate your heritage is not relevant. I appreciate your heritage and mine, and wish to see our line continue.”
For the countess, it was quite a speech. She wasn’t given to long diatribes, and Colter recognized how much it meant to her that he marry.
“Christ,” he growled. “It was much easier on me when Anthony was the heir. I didn’t have to be concerned with providing an heir or being involved in my father’s eternal machinations. Thank God it was always Anthony, Father and Grandfather in their exclusive little clique. I fully appreciate that now.”
“Your grandfather never excluded you, Northington.”
Her use of his title indicated her displeasure.
He shrugged. “Not from his life but from their plans, yes. He had other ambitions for me. He taught me a great deal about investments rather than politics. Our time together was not wasted, nor was it unpleasant.”
Lady Moreland ran an idle finger over the binding of the book in her lap. “Your grandfather was a stern man in many ways, but I always found him to be fair. I think he often wished you were heir instead of Anthony.”
