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“The younger, a Lord Phillip, left a married son who unfortunately then begat upon the world Richard Cadogan, a debt-ridden philanderer who married Lady Jane Cadwalader. Her family lacked male descendants, so a stipulation was placed upon the marriage contracts that they join their surnames and… Are you sure you wish to hear all this?”
“It seems a shame not to…if we are nearly there.”
“Well, their only son was Hugh, who prefers to use his mother’s name alone rather than the abomination that is Cadogan-Cadwalader and who can blame him. I have no idea what he truly is in familial terms.”
“And after him the lineage ends?”
“No, but one must delve back to the fifth earl before it careers down and ends up in Buckinghamshire with a Mr George Puddle who doesn’t even know he’s related to the Cadogans according to Elen. How I ended up with the English dukedom was even more convoluted, involving runaway sons and a suspect claimant who turned out to be an actor from Tunbridge Wells.”
Isabelle grinned. “And yet you refuse to marry?” She held fingertips to mouth. That was no one’s business but his own. “I’m sorry, that is what Lady Elen told…”
He lifted a brow and smirked. “I know Elen has many theories regarding my bachelorhood.” All of a sudden, humour dissipated as he leaned near, breath on her feverish skin. “But do you, Miss Beaujeu, wish to know the truth of why I have not as yet married?”
“I…” She could not feign disinterest and so fell silent.
His stubble grazed her cheek. “Indulge me in a game of truth or lie?”
