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“No brides.” He turned his back and refilled his glass from a decanter on the mantle.
“You must marry. You have the succession to consider. You sounded very amenable to my suggestions in the letters we exchanged while you were in Scotland. What changed?”
Perdie.
Although he paused to take a good hearty swig before turning around again, he heard the frown in his aunt’s voice. And why was she going on about a succession? He had six sisters, any one of which could give birth to a son. It would almost be a family tradition to pass the title on to his nephew in turn.
But his aunt was right, he had to marry. He’d never envisioned himself living the life of a bachelor forever, especially not now that he had a title. He wanted a family of his own. A large one like he grew up with. But did he have to add a wife to the title in the same bloody year?
If he’d met Perdie in Scotland instead of Hertfordshire, he would already be married and not have to worry about this. How would it even be fair for him to marry another when it was inescapable he had another lady lodged deep under his skin and within his heart. Thaddeus did not believe in faithlessness. The woman he married he would give her everything—his love, honor, loyalty, and fidelity. Marrying another while thinking and dreaming about Perdie was infidelity.
He turned to face his aunt as an idea took root. “There is a woman I might consider.” If he ever found her again.
Only the twitch of his aunt’s pale eyebrow betrayed her interest. “Oh?”
If he was going to tell the tale, he might as well do it right. He crossed to the chair most likely to hold his weight in the dainty frippery of his aunt’s personal drawing-room. He settled himself slowly into the chair. His reflection in the whisky gave him no answers—nor did another swallow of the spirits.
“I met a woman while traveling south. She and her companion and her lady’s maid were beset upon by highwaymen, and I felt it was my duty to safely escort them to their destination. She’s well-bred, lively, full of courage, wit and charm. She is also beautiful. She’ll make a fine countess.”
Aunt Beatrice started shaking her head halfway through his curtailed explanation. “Out of the question!”
Before he could reply, she continued, “Is this why you were late in arriving? Let me dissuade you of any romantic notions you have of saving your bride like a knight in shining armor. It’s not how things are done. You’ll marry for advantage, and a lady of any quality would have had footmen to keep her safe during her travels.”
Thaddeus bristled at the implication. “This particular lady believed she could best any brigands herself should she happen upon them.”
His aunt took up her embroidery once more. “And if you weren’t there, she would be dead.”
“No, actually. She acquitted herself well. The highwaymen ran off before I could interfere.”
Aunt Beatrice raised her eyebrows. She gave him a speaking look. “A likely tale. More likely, she and the brigands were in on it together. She hopes to hook herself a fortune, and you fell directly into her trap. Please tell me you didn’t do anything…indiscreet.”
Thaddeus hoped the burn along his cheeks didn’t show. He started to shift position before he realized it would make him look like a guilty schoolboy. Instead, he said, “Lionel and I were traveling alone, by that point. We didn’t exchange names or titles. She hadn’t the faintest idea that I was due to inherit an earldom.”
His aunt made a far-from-believing sound in the back of her throat. “Then a lady of quality would not associate with someone she believed to be a ruffian.”
Thaddeus, it appeared, could not convince her. “I don’t know how Uncle Angus ever won an argument with you.”
She smiled sweetly, but her eyes were sly. “He didn’t. But if you are so certain your ‘well-bred’ lady keeps the same society as do we, then she will undoubtedly attend your ball in a few days.”
Thaddeus felt like fingernails were raking down his spine. “To what ball are you referring?”
“To the ball we are holding in your honor, of course. It’s a lucky thing you arrived when you did, or you would have missed it altogether. We have to introduce you to society somehow.”
“I went to Cambridge. I know half the Lords in the house or their sons.”
Aunt Beatrice wagged her finger. “But none of their daughters. If this lady is as reputable as you believe, she’ll attend your ball. I sent out the invitations weeks ago before you even arrived in England.”
“You were so certain I would agree?”
She smiled at him. “If your young lady attends, I’ll give my tacit approval of the match.”
Thaddeus grunted. “You’re wagering a lot on the belief that she won’t attend. You are also misinformed to believe that I need your approval to marry.”
There was a small kernel of hope in his heart, even though he knew she would not be there. Perdie had been running away from London, not to it. Hell, she’d run from him. And he had tried to let her go, but had failed miserably, inadvertently scrutinizing every lady he passed. Thaddeus had been in London for two weeks and never had the fortune to encounter any lady who looked like Perdie or her companions. Her name was unique. Perdita. He was sure she was a lady of quality, but of what rung? Would she receive his aunt’s invitation? Thaddeus wondered if he could glance through Burke’s peerage and see if he would find her. The brother might truly be a duke, and how many dukes were there?
Aunt Beatrice worked one last stitch into the embroidery hoop, then admired her progress. “To the contrary, my dear. If she received an invitation, she is a most suitable match indeed. Of course, my approval would not be needed then.”
He rubbed his jawline thoughtfully. “A ball, you say.”
