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“No. We cannot, Your Grace,” Charles agreed.
“Except for one,” the Duke said, taking a seat at last.
“What’s that?” Charles asked, wondering what else the Duke could have come to discuss.
“Now, I need you to do something for me, Mr. Conolly,” the Duke said, crossing his legs.
“What is it?” Charles asked.
“I need you to talk to Lord Norton,” he replied. “I want Arabella to be my only heiress.”
“What should I offer him?” Charles asked.
The Duke scribbled a note on the paper, then handed it to Charles. He glanced at it, blinking in surprise.
“Do you think that’s enough?” His Grace asked.
“It should be,” Charles said. “I’ll let you know if there’s a counter-offer.”
“Please do,” the Duke said. “After all, if you marry my daughter, then as her husband, you benefit.”
Charles didn’t know what to say. “Thank you, Your Grace,” he said.
“I don’t particularly like that you will be master of Tiverwell,” the Duke said. “But in time, I will get used to it, I suppose.”
“Arabella will be the head of the household,” Charles replied. “I will let her take the lead at that time.”
The Duke stared at him for a long moment before nodding. Charles wasn’t interested in becoming a Duke himself. Arabella was much more suited to running the Dukedom. Charles would be her helpmeet.
“No one else could deserve her,” the Duke replied, standing up. “No one else could love and cherish her as you will. I trust that we should expect you to arrive at some point, today?”
“Yes, absolutely.”
Charles stood. They both shook hands, and then Charles saw the Duke out. Mrs. Osbourne came out of the kitchen.
“What did he want?” she asked, curiously.
“He just gave his permission for me to marry Lady Arabella,” he said.
“Oh!” Mrs. Osbourne cried. “That’s happy news!”
“It is,” he agreed. “Happy news at last.” It had been a long time since Charles had been allowed to have hope. He could hardly believe it.
He began to plan for the day—he would need to go and speak to Arabella. He would need to dress in something other than his usual jacket. He thought of Arabella, waiting for him just then. He needed to hurry.
* * *
Arabella had Annette dress her in one of her pale pink muslin dresses. She had her hair curled neatly. She had just finished preparing, when Mr. Blankley knocked on the door.
“Mr. Conolly is here to see you, My Lady,” he said. “Your father has said that he has permission to have a private audience with you.”
“Show him into the parlor,” Arabella replied. “I will receive him there.”
“Oh, My Lady,” Annette said. “How exciting!”
“Indeed,” Arabella agreed. “How do I look?”
“Pretty as a picture,” Annette replied.
