Page 21 of Romancing Daphne

James choked back the immediate, very vocal objection he felt. He needed to proceed carefully. Once determined on a path, Father was difficultto dissuade. And James was already in far deeper than he’d ever expected to be.

“His Grace welcomed you, something the rest of Town has little expectation of. You have the advantage of acquaintance. You need only woo her,talk sweet to her, whatever you must. You could emerge triumphant.”

Father could plot and plan all he liked, but James would not stand idlyby and watch it happen. Miss Lancaster was a sweet-natured and lovelyyoung lady. She didn’t deserve to be tossed out like an eel pie past its peak of freshness.

“I have no intention of courting the girl,” he insisted. “You have notthe legal ability to contract a betrothal for me, nor will I allow you to trap meinto undertaking one.”

“Trap you?”

“You talked me into this mess in the first place,” James reminded him. “Now you have sent her flowers on my behalf. This feels far more like a trap than a tender moment of father and son togetherness.”

Father’s mouth pulled into a tight line. “I will not allow this opportunity to slip away. I will do what I must for the good of this family.”

The good of this family. That only ever meant the furthering of his own ambitions.

“I cannot like this, Father. I was invited to act as her friendonly.I will not impose upon her further.”

Father didn’t take even an instant to contemplate James’s objection but immediately offered his counterargument. “A courtship from a gentleman who is already a friend is not an imposition.”

“It is when that courtship was enacted on false pretenses.” He was firm on this point. To continue on the path Father was laying out would be dishonest. James would not do that. “I have fulfilled my agreement. I will do no more.”

“Do you not care at all for your name? Your station?”

James despaired of making his father understand the importance of choosing the ethical path even if doing so meant personal inconvenience. His sire seldom bothered to ponder whether or not heshouldbehave in a certain way, preferring instead to be guided by the simpler argument of whether or not hecould.

“Our station in life is sufficient for me,” James said.

Father’s gaze narrowed. “That is a very selfish stance, Tilburn.”

“I do not see it that way.” He rose, then sketched a quick bow. “Good day—”

“Shall I tell your mother you no longer concern yourself with her well-being?” Father sat perfectly still. “You know as well as I do how much she depends upon you.”

This scheme had been concocted in part to bring Mother to London with the promise of the duchess’s friendship and support. James couldn’t say his efforts had guaranteed that, but he felt certain Her Grace would at least acknowledge Mother. He needn’t perpetuate a lie to garner further favor.

“No,” James said firmly. “I will not take this further.”

“Then I must.” Father’s confidence remained unshaken.“You subsist upon the income provided you by the estate, do you not?”

Apprehension inched over him. “You know that I do.”

“This estate need not support anyone who does not act in its best interest.” Father pegged James with a firm and painfully patient gaze.

“You cannot disown your heir. My coveted Oxford education taught me that much.” Father’s devotion to that institute of learning bordered on religious.

“Not ultimately, but I have complete control over your income during my lifetime,” Father answered.

“You would threaten to cut me off if I do not acquiesce? You would subject your son and heir to penury in order to have your way?”

“You force my hand.” The words emerged slowly. “I have the betterment of generations of this family in mind, and you can think of nothing but your own willfulness. If you will not do what is best, I must see to it that you are made to. If that requires that I take away your financial support, I will do it, however much it pains me.”

James didn’t imagine anything about the undertaking would truly pain Father other than the embarrassment of a penniless heir. And yet there had been moments in the past week when Father had seemed to soften the tiniest bit. Perhaps it had all been a ruse, a ruse he had been fooled by.

“What say you, Tilburn?”

“It seems I am to live in poverty.”

Father’s brow creased in deep confusion.“What of your pride?”

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