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"Such simple excuses," Nadia scoffed.
"Nadia, I've invited this man to our estate and now you're insulting him, and I'll not tolerate it," Lord Havenshire's voice gurgled out through a cough.
"Father, you've invited this man to try to marry me off, just as you called me back home to marry me off. And now, you're conspiring to take away my agency, simply because you think it'd be in my best interests. And how are you to say I'm not capable of acting in my own best interests? I'm a grown woman, with a mind, one that's seen far more of the world than a man like this," she sneered, before turning in disgust and storming from the stable door. Deflated, Lord Beckham realized he had, by now, done too much damage to any hope he had held on to reignite that spark; to strike the flint once more and create a raging fire of emotion between them. He had failed, just as he had failed Anna.
"You see what a dying old father has to deal with?" Lord Havenshire coughed loudly, shaking his head. "She's lovely, really, beneath the layers of willful scorn she wears like heavy plate armor, I promise. She takes from me - not her mother, who was as lovely a woman as the moors have ever seen. No, I was willful as she is when I was her age, and I blame myself for letting the world change her, make her hardened, and not the woman she should be, looking for a husband," he lamented. "I apologize for her."
"You needn't," Lord Beckham shook his head. "Willful, yes, and perhaps far too judgmental for her own good. But I would never fault a woman for thinking of her own freedom. Isn't that what all men do?" Lord Havenshire regarded him curiously, still stunned to hear these sorts of things said by a man of northern England.
"Lord Beckham, I have to be brutal in my honesty to you. I've not told anyone, not even Nadia, but... I've not got much time of my own left on this world. She's not stupid, and so I'm certain she grasps the urgency of my situation, but she... Ms. Mulwray, they've all deluded themselves into denial. The truth is that without some manner of intervention, I'll die without seeing her married, and she - and our family estate - will be lost," Lord Havenshire confided, his voice shaky. "You, though - you've shown an unusual sort of tolerance for my daughter's ideas, and... well, I can't be certain what was said between you, at that dinner, but I think that you're the only man I can say this to, right now, in confidence that you'll understand."
"It's gracious of you to trust me, m'lord, but..." Lord Beckham hesitated; he heard thunder begin to rumble, and as the sound stretched across the sea of grass waving beyond, he swallowed, flashes of the day on the Delshire Moors bringing fresh trauma to his mind. "...I'm not deserving of your daughter; or of any wife, in honesty. I've only disappointed those I've fallen in love with, and I've no doubt your daughter - finding herself a prisoner in her estate - would fare any better."
"A disappointment? Marshall, you're anything but," Lord Havenshire insisted. "Your tolerance for my daughter's odd ideas means you're the only man I've known capable of corralling her. Of convincing her of the importance of marriage."
"I..." Lord Beckham's voice trailed away as he thought on the old man's words. Perhaps Lord Havenshire had a point. Lord Beckham knew the sorts of men cluttering the aristocracy; outwardly they loved to play the role of the deferential gentleman, but within they harbored all those same predilections and basal passions that drove all the misery and woe of the world - greed for power, greed for control; greed for wealth and fortune. He knew she needed marriage - even if she didn't want it - and she knew that any other man would keep her in the cage she feared, and would stifle all those thoughts of hers.
"Lord Beckham, I beg you to at least, please consider the thought. I know how Nadia appears, but she's a lovely woman," Lord Havenshire pleaded, tears rolling at the edges of his eyes. With a weighty sigh, Lord Beckham glanced away, holding his eyes closed.
"I'll... consider it, m'lord," he answered in a deep, thrumming tone. "I'll... I'll consider it closely."
CHAPTER NINE
What nerve he'd had!
Lady Havenshire had lost the inclination to go riding; while it had always been one of her favorite pastimes, and she looked forward to her first afternoon spent atop her trusted steed Shadow, the sight of her father and that lord conspiring to usurp her individuality had put her off the stables; off of quite a bit of everything. Instead she stood now at the top of the stairwell, glancing down into the foyer, with her helmet, jacket and jodhpurs replaced by a flowing white gown and her messy hair falling across her shoulder, she waited indignantly for her father to return from the stables. She had quite a lot she wanted to say to him, even if it vexed her to think of his poor condition and how he had truly wanted the best for her.
But how could he or anyone other than her, know what she most wanted in the world?
The nerve, that Lord Beckham must've had, to answer a summons after last night. They'd spoken, and she'd realized he had been the same as every other man - always happy to step atop a woman to elevate themselves, even their own mothers, daughters, and sisters. Their conversation had been nil after that particular exchange
; she had no real interest in entertaining more words from a man who had benefited so crassly from the institutions she hated. Lady Henrietta had poked her head in between the two of them from time to time...
Lady Henrietta! Lady Havenshire's rage only grew as she thought on how this had all come to pass. No doubt that insufferable old woman had gotten into her father's ear just last night, crowing on about how wonderful the event had been; how Nadia had been chattering on with a lord whom Lady Henrietta thought to be a suitable suitor. This had all been her doing, hadn't it? Fuming, Nadia stared intently at the door, arming herself with one argument, and then another, preparing to eviscerate her father's own arguments about her fate and about Lord Beckham.
She had not been completely without base in making such assumptions. Of course, he had benefited from a crooked system, he had stepped over his sister! But Lady Havenshire had not failed to give him credit for his charms; for his open mind. He had made her laugh, after all; something none in England had managed in earnest for quite some time. His voice commanding, she could even appreciate how handsome he was; something she had long ago given up on finding properly in England. He had certainly been different from the others... but not so different, she reassured herself. As attractive, and interesting, as the man had proven, she wouldn't become just another woman like her friends, giving up their minds and wills to marry for inheritance and social gain.
Curious maidservants scrambled about the polished furniture and the long shadows of nightfall crossing through the foyer, their eyes flashing over angry Lady Havenshire, words of lilted gossip passing across their tongues. Nadia crossed her arms, her expression cross, as she watched the doors to the manor open slowly, a thunderstorm brewing without, rumbles echoing across the trees and grasses of the Emerys estate.
"I've good news," the tired duke announced as he closed the door behind him. "Lord Beckham has expressed a potential interest in courting you, Nadia."
"Did you see him off, then?" Nadia asked her father, ignoring his proud pronouncement, as he tiredly crossed the threshold. "Is he going back to his estate?" he lifted his gaze, his face weary; she felt a twinge of concern for her father in his heart, knowing that he had spent more time out of bed trying to impress today than he likely had in the months since he'd fallen ill.
"Nadia," he responded, his voice weak, "I had invited Lord Beckham here as a guest. I have respected you, my daughter, for your impudence for quite a long time, but treating my guests in this manner... it's not acceptable."
"He was no ordinary guest, father, and it's insulting of you to lie to me in such a manner," Nadia fumed. "I know just why you invited him, and I know just why agreed to come here. Lady Henrietta has been singing quite melodically into your ear all night and all day, hasn't she, father?"
"Lady Henrietta sings quite a great many tunes into my ear each day, Nadia, do you think I listen to every bit of gossip she blurts out?" her father responded harshly, dragging himself slowly towards the stairs.
"I think she mentioned the possibility of pairing me off with some man, and you leapt at the opportunity, having your courier send a message all the way to Berrewithe before dawn had even broken," Nadia sniped back.
"I work with haste because I haven't got all the time in the world to assure your future, and the future of my family and estate, is secure," Lord Havenshire rumbled in response. He began to scale the stairwell, one step at a time, each step a monumental task of its own.
"Father, please, you speak with so much certainty when you say that," Nadia retorted sharply.
"I speak with certainty because it is a certainty," her father exclaimed. "It is a certainty I will die - whether sooner, or later, and it is a certainty that when I do, my estate - my life, everything - either falls into your hands, or you lose everything; all of the servants lose everything. Do you know how precarious I feel, in this position?" he shuddered as he bounded another step, rain beginning to pour against the windowpanes.
"Father, have you ever considered my own thoughts and feelings in your calculations about this estate? About the inheritance? When you called me back to England, did that matter to you? What I wanted? Is it so selfish of your daughter to want the freedom that you've always enjoyed, father?" Nadia said, her voice warbling as the seriousness of her father's condition began to set in.
