Page 4 of Snapdragons
“I worried that would cause you discouragement.” She shook her head. “Your grandparents won’t be swayed. But take heart. The matches they have brokered for your siblings and your cousins have proven very happy.”
While that was true, it was not terribly comforting. Outside of his immediate family and the Gents, Niles hadn’t found many people who gave him a second thought, let alone came to like the person he was. Part of that, he fully acknowledged, was his own reticence. The rest was owing to how immediately forgettable he was. It wasn’t an observation he made out of self-directed pity; it was simply the truth.
He didn’t mind that most people thought that of him. But to be required to build a life with someone who found him entirely forgettable was a miserable prospect.
But Mother was correct: his grandparents would not change their minds on the matter. Niles had always known that.
Mother continued consulting with the tailor. Niles took the opportunity, as he’d done countless times over the past four months, to reconcile himself to his fate.
His grandparents truly had chosen well for the others. Grandfather was particularly careful to address material considerations and needs. Grandmother made certain the social benefits were sufficient. And Niles felt certain they gave at least a little consideration to the personalities and preferences of their individual grandchildren. There was some comfort in that.
Father arrived at the shop, having finished his business for the day. They would all be returning home the next day, and preparations would begin for the Seymours’ arrival. Niles dreaded it. Legitimately and fully dreaded it. But what could he do?
They finalized their order with the tailor, then climbed insidethe carriage to ride back to the inn, where they would pass the night.
“Is there anything you can tell me of Miss Seymour?” he asked his parents. “Anything to help me form some idea of who she is?”
“I suspect you know most, if not all, of what we do,” Father said. “She is twenty-five and Irish. Her family is well thought of.”
His father’s suspicions hit the mark. That was, in reality, very nearly the sum total of what Niles knew. So impersonal, so unencouraging.
“The Seymours are known for their horses,” Father added.
Thatwasnew information. Niles liked to ride, and he knew a great deal about horses. Here was a small hint of hope.
“The only sticking point your grandfather has encountered involves the property Miss Seymour inherited from a great-uncle. They have insisted it remain hers rather than become yours, as is customary upon marriage.” Father shrugged a little. “And they are further insisting that the trustees appointed upon her inheritance remain the trustees overseeing it.”
“Did Grandfather agree to those terms?” Niles, of course, would be the one signing the marriage agreements, he having long since reached his majority. But Grandfather always negotiated the contracts.
“Regardless of who is technically the owner of the estate,” Father said, “you would have a place to live and raise a family. It would be an odd arrangement, though not unheard of. Still, having a home is a valuable thing.”
A home, but not one he owned. To almost anyone else, that wouldn’t be the problem it was for Niles. He’d known for some time that were he to achieve one of his most personally important goals, he had to eventually own land.Hehimself. Not his wife.
Land ownership was a qualification for seeking election to the House of Commons. He’d wanted the chance to sit in Parliamentand make a difference in the world ever since Stanley had left to fight in the war with the colonies. He’d wanted a voice in those decisions that had the potential to irrevocably change lives. But he didn’t own land, so he didn’t qualify.
Pursuing that goal had motivated him for years, leading him to save as much of his income as he could and to listen closely as Henri and Aldric, two of the Gents, discussed which areas of the country had property at lower prices and which areas cost more but were worth the added expense because their locations offered important advantages. He’d made plans and done calculations. And he’d known in the back of his mind that there was at least a possibility that when his family chose a match for him, the lady in question would bring land to the marriage.
He’d told himself that the possibility of having claim on an estate and finally being in a position to move forward with the one future he’d found himself excited to pursue would make the prospect of an arranged marriage palatable.
“Miss Seymour’s family won’t budge on the matter of her retaining ownership of the estate?” Niles hadn’t heard of this aspect before, and his brain was struggling to sort through it.
“Not even a little.”
Mother offered another of her pseudo-pitying glances. “The house and land would still be yours in all ways except that one. Not all young gentlemen without estates of their own are so fortunate.”
He didn’t feel fortunate.
“And,” she added, “the next time it is your turn to host a gathering of your friends, you needn’t hold it atourhome.”
“Did you mind so much?” Niles asked.
“Not at all.”
Father added his agreement to Mother’s declaration. “And I hope all of them will come to Cornwall for the wedding in a few weeks.”
A few weeks.
Miss Seymour would be in Cornwall in only another month. There’d be no escaping at that point, no chance for claiming what he wanted and avoiding the fate that had been chosen for him.
