Page 5 of The Earl's Reluctant Artist
“So you decided the only way to get me here was to threaten me with my inheritance?”
“No, I threatened you with it so you would marry this Season.”
“Oh, how kind.”
The old man’s eyes narrowed. “You cannot put it off any longer, my boy. Do you remember your younger cousin, Lady Rosamund Barrow?”
“What does Rosie have to do with anything?” Tristan asked, raising his hands.
The duke leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table. “She is getting married in a fortnight. Tristan, she is five years younger than you, and she is already married.”
Tristan sighed. “I am sorry if I am not keen on the idea of dedicating my life to someone else, Grandpapa.”
“Well, perhaps you should be keen on the idea of losing the estate and everything that comes with it after I die.”
Tristan’s voice cooled. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because you are my only heir, and I cannot have you waste the rest of your life in a hunting lodge in Northumberland.”
“I could not find anyone I like in time to marry this Season.”
“You could not find anyone in time to do anything,” his grandfather said dryly. “You do not like anyone enough to fall in love with them. Which is why I have asked my solicitor to arrange an advantageous match.”
Tristan felt his stomach twist. “Garrett?”
“Yes.”
Tristan’s brow narrowed. “You went to such lengths before even sending a word to me?”
“I do not want you to refuse, my boy. I hope you do what I say this time around. If you do not, I will hand off my estate to someone else.”
Tristan rolled his eyes. “You do not need to make the threat twice, Grandpapa.”
“I am being serious.”
“And I am here. Is that not enough proof that I am aware of that?” Tristan muttered.
His grandfather ignored it. “Garrett will be here tomorrow.”
Tristan’s jaw flexed as he turned around.
“Fine.”
Chapter 2
Eliza stood before the mirror as it captured her face in the soft light of the morning. Her eyes settled on her reflection, and she watched in wonder as her reflection stared back at her. Her cheeks were framed with brown hair, and they fell in rather loose strands that seemed to brush her shoulders. Her hazel eyes looked wider than usual and had a slight hint of red about them.
She hadn’t been sleeping properly as of late, and she needed to remedy that as soon as possible. Her frame was slight and her shoulders were narrow. They filled out her gown, which was plain in color. She brushed her hair with slow strokes, pressing her lips together as if the motion would steady her thoughts.
She was halfway done with her hair when the door creaked open.
Ruth, the serving maid, curtsied before stepping in, her voice low and careful. “Miss, your brother is here.”
Eliza’s brush stilled. “He is back?”
“Yes, miss. And he brought a friend with him.”
Eliza swallowed. “Thank you, Ruth.”
