Page 56 of The Spinster's Stolen Hear
The butler stared helplessly back. “Indeed, your lordship, but he is here and insists upon seeing you. He says it’s an emergency.”
Nathan bit his lip, leaning back in his desk seat. He had a veritable pile of work to get done before William and Lavinia’s soiree that night. It would be the first event they’d thrown as a married couple and was therefore quite noteworthy in Society. Nathan couldn’t miss it. However, if he entertained whatever emergency had brought Lord Davenport to his door, he might not get his work finished.
He bit back a sigh.I can hardly send the man away.
“Where is he?”
“In the parlour, your lordship,” the butler responded. “If her ladyship were here, she would doubtless attend to him, but at the moment he is alone.”
“Well, we can’t have that. Send in tea, and I’ll meet him presently.”
The butler bowed and slipped out, leaving Nathan alone in his study. He paused, tapping the end of his quill pen against the desk.
Something is wrong here.
I suppose there’s only one way to find out what it is.
Nathan arrived at the parlour door shortly afterwards. He paused; fingers looped around the doorknob. He could hear the rhythmic thud-thud of a person pacing up and down inside, the sure sign of an agitated mind.
Or of anger.
Nothing to be done.Nathan opened the door and stepped inside.
Lord Davenport was indeed pacing up and down in front of the mantelpiece, but he stopped short when he saw Nathan.
“Where have you been, boy?” he demanded irritably. “I have been here for a full ten minutes, which I marked on that clock. What do you mean, keeping me waiting for so long?
Nathan swallowed his annoyance.
“I beg your pardon, Lord Davenport, I was in the middle of some very important work. I believe tea was brought to you?”
The older man gave a disdainful huff. He glared at Nathan, tension in every line of his body, and it was clear at once that this was more than a simple social visit. Whatever theemergencywas, it was serious.
“You mentioned an emergency?” Nathan said, dispensing with small talk and pleasantries. “I was quite concerned. Pray, sit down.”
Lord Davenport did so, albeit reluctantly.
“I’m here to discuss your marriage,” he said at last, watching Nathan closely.
Nathan cleared his throat. “Marriage? I don’t understand. I am not married, or planning to be so.”
“Indeed, that’s exactly it. I’ve had quite enough of your procrastination, young man. If your father was alive, he would be appalled,” Lord Davenport drew in a deep breath, giving a short nod. “I intend to put a notice of your engagement to my daughter, Amanda, in theGazette.”
There was a brief silence. Nathan found that his mouth was dry. He swallowed hard, trying to work some moisture between his tongue and the roof of his mouth, which seemed to be somehow sealed together.
“I… I have not offered marriage to your daughter, Lord Davenport,” Nathan said, choosing his words with great care. Had he misheard? He must have misheard.
Lord Davenport snarled. “Don’t play games with me, boy. That’s exactly the trouble. I thought we had an understanding, you and I. I thought we’d agreed that you and Amanda would be a perfect fit. I took a step back because I assumed you wanted to court her in your own way. And now the end of the Season is looming, and there’s no proposal on the horizon. Amanda and my wife inform me that you avoid her, and never call on her. What am I supposed to think?”
You are supposed to think that I do not want to marry your daughter, Lord Davenport,Nathan thought, with a flare of anger. He kept his mouth shut, however. Probably for the best.
“And so, I am taking matters into my own hands,” Lord Davenport finished, with a decisive nod. “If you agree, I shall put the notice in theGazetteand go home to inform Amanda of her betrothal. It’s not a particularly manly way to woo a woman, and it’s most disappointing. However, I am willing to meet you halfway on this.”
He sat back, looking rather satisfied with himself.
Nathan took a moment to collect himself.
“You presume to direct my marriage, then?” he found himself saying, not exactly sure at what point he’d chosen the words. “You’d strong-arm me into a marriage that I do not want, with your own daughter, no less? Do you hate her so very much?”
