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“Do you fence, sir?” she asked.
“I do, My Lady,” he said. “I was captain of the fencing team while I was in school.”
“She wants to challenge you to a duel, Mr. Conolly,” the Duke of Tiverwell said, a note of extreme pride and fondness in his tone. “This is how she measures up all of her potential opponents.”
“I would be happy to accept, My Lady,” Charles said.
She beamed, with genuine delight. “Then I will hold you to your word, Mr. Conolly. I always fence at eight of the clock, nearly every morning.”
“Tomorrow, then,” Charles said.
* * *
After they had greeted Mr. Conolly, Arabella returned to her room, where her lady’s maid, Annette, helped her to change quickly. She always sat in on her father’s business meetings, and she was interested to hear what Mr. Conolly would have to say in regards to her father’s proposed plan.
Arabella had been pleasantly surprised by Mr. Conolly. It was rare for any male person, aside from her instructor, to fence against her. There was often a lot of hemming and hawing, and then a soft denial. They all found the prospect of being beaten by a lady daunting, even though they always proclaimed that they were being “chivalrous.” Mr. Conolly had seemed pleased by her offer.
Dressed in a yellow silk gown, she walked straight to her father’s study. On the other side of the door, she could hear her father’s booming voice, then listened as Mr. Conolly answered.
He seemed to be an intelligent and confident man. He interested her immensely. She had never met anyone of his like. That is, she had never met anyone who hadn’t been scandalized by her wearing breeches. She was curious to see if he was merely able to hide his shock better than everyone else.
She knocked on the smooth cherry wood door. “Yes?” her father called out. She opened the door, peering inside. Her father and Mr. Conolly were both sitting across from each other at the desk, which was a riot of papers and ledgers.
“It’s just me,” she said.
“Come in,” her father replied. He turned to Mr. Conolly—who did not miss a beat, Arabella noticed. “My daughter always sits in on my business,” he explained.
“Very good, Your Grace,” Mr. Conolly said, turning to Arabella. “We were just discussing the estate planning that His Grace had in mind.”
“Ah, yes,” Arabella said, sitting down in a chair. “He’s told me all about it.”
“I ran it all by her before I enlisted your services, Mr. Conolly,” the Duke explained.
“Excellent,” Mr. Conolly said. “It’s all rather simple to do—however, it involves filling out and filing certain documents. That will take time. Particularly since the first version of your will seems to be incomplete.”
Arabella hadn’t known this. She frowned at her father.
“Never to worry,” her father said, waving her off before she began to ask questions. “We hope that you will enjoy your stay at Tiverwell. The country has its benefits.”
“This is the first time that I’ve been fortunate enough to stay out in the country,” Mr. Conolly said. “I’ve always lived in the city, myself.”
“Not to worry, Mr. Conolly,” Arabella said. “We will make sure that you don’t spend the entire time in my father’s dusty study.”
“That’s very kind of you, My Lady.”
Her father cleared his throat. “My one question is, Mr. Conolly—will we have any pushback from my cousin?” He was, of course, talking about Lord Farley Milton, the Viscount of Landsdale, who would, upon her father’s death, receive the lion’s share of her father’s estate, as well as the title of Duke of Tiverwell.
“I will do my best to—ease the way, so to speak,” Mr. Conolly replied. “If he’s to inherit the title and the county seat, then that may be all of the incentive that he needs to remain quiet. Certainly, I can point out the benefits of allowing Lady Arabella and the Duchess to inherit the funds as well as the London townhome, as you propose.”
“There are also certain—priceless objects—which must remain with my daughter and wife,” her father explained. Arabella, cursed with being born female, would be nearly penniless. Unless she married well, or Mr. Conolly was able to change the will, specifically the entail which took away the lion’s share of the money.
Should it not be resolved, then she and her mother would receive a modest income upon her father’s death, and nothing more. The title of Duke, Tiverwell Manor, all of the money, properties, and even her mother’s considerable inheritance from her own father would go to Farley Minton, Viscount of Norton, who none of them liked.
“Which we’ll go through and detail in the document,” Mr. Conolly was saying. “As I work, it would be of great use if you could make a detailed and thorough list of the items of which you speak.”
Arabella let her mind wander, just a bit. They were discussing those objects which her father wanted to remain within the bloodline. This included several paintings, a few sculptures, a silver tea service…nothing that truly interested Arabella, aside from a Middle Ages broadsword, which her father kept over the fireplace in the library.
“You see, Mr. Conolly,” her father was saying. Arabella focused when her father turned a fond gaze in her direction. “My wife and I have raised our only child as both son and daughter to us both. We wish to make sure that upon my demise, she is treated as she has been raised.”
