Page 55 of A Brilliant Match
“Taking in the fact that you’re about to bounce out of your seat, I can only guess that you have decided at long last to become leg-shackled.” Miles took another sip.
“Wrong you are. Unlike you, I have not found the right lady.”
“Unlike me?” The reminder felt unkind, and Miles frowned at him again, this time in displeasure. “I believe I was quite clear about the fact that I would not be marrying Dorothea. Our circumstances are too far apart.”
“Well, now, that is just the thing that I wanted to speak to you about.” There was the bouncing knee again. “Your circumstances are not quite as bleak as you think them.”
Miles stilled and looked at his cousin keenly, an unreasonable sprout of hope budding. He trampled it. His path had been set for him.
“What are you talking about? I have received a goodly sum for my estate, but it means…well…” He did not care to spell out that it meant a drop in his standing, and it meant the loss of the woman he loved.
“What am I talking about?” Rock grinned. “Only, my illustrious cousin, that I discovered in the middle of a set of papers from 1772 a document that was not meant to be there. It was from the late earl detailing the inheritance that was to go to your mother and any of her offspring.” He gave a crack of laughter, adding, “I am so pleased with myself. It was two o’clock in the morning, and I was just about to snuff the candle when I spotted it.”
Miles attempted to follow what he was saying and could only remain silent.
“The attorney destroyed every old copy of our grandfather’s will from before you or I were born—he told me so himself. I don’t think it was intended for me to see this paper, but somehow it was mislaid with the other documents. Of course, the testament is clearly labeled as outdated and no longer valid.”
His eyes twinkled underneath his clear brow. “However, it was of great value to me, for I was able to learn what my grandfather’s intentions were toward Lady Isabelle before she displeased him enough for him to cut her out.”
Miles continued to study him, striving to glean what his cousin was getting at.
“But as you say,” Miles went on slowly, “the testament is no longer valid. And therefore there is no reason for us to be having this conversation—or for you to be bouncing your knee as though you’re about to go galloping through Hyde Park.”
Rock shot up from his chair and walked over to the desk and picked up an official-looking document there.
“Wrong you are, coz. I am at liberty to distribute certain unentailed portions of the estate that are unrelated to the earldom as I see fit. And since I’ve learned that this particular holding of a modest five-hectare piece of land situated in the county of Herefordshire was to belong to you as its rightful heir, I’ve had my solicitor make it over to you. Here’s the deed.”
He handed over a sealed, folded paper, and Miles took it numbly, trying, through the fog that had settled over his mind, to comprehend the ramifications of what his cousin was saying.
“There is an independence set aside for your mother, and as the size of your holding is considerable enough, there is not only a dower house situated there, but the estate will bring you a not-unhandsome income of three thousand a year. If you don’t object to using my banker, he is expecting your visit.”
Rock resumed his seat, his hands clasped together, his smile reaching his eyes. “And the roof on the house is solid. I had them check.”
Miles found it difficult to speak over the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. He looked up at his cousin.
“You shouldn’t do this. You should keep the earl’s properties as one and not divide them.” He furrowed his brows. He had to try to make his cousin understand, tempted though he was to simply take this very generous gift.
“You will not change my mind on this,” Rock said more seriously. “This holding was acquired in my grandfather’s lifetime. It doesn’t touch any of the estates that were handed down to him or any of the holdings attached to my courtesy titles. My future children will not in any way suffer from the absence of this property in their inheritance.”
He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “Honestly, Miles. It’s the least I can do. Just take it.”
Miles dropped his eyes to the paper in his hands, broke the seal, and read its contents. He could scarcely take in his cousin’s generosity—or what this would mean for his life. He could care for the land from a position of wealth rather than one of disadvantage. He would retain the status of gentleman. He could care for his mother.
He could marry Dorothea.
Miles held the paper in his two hands and regarded his cousin, a slight shake to his head. “I don’t know what to say.”
Rock took him by the arm, pulled him up from the chair, and hauled him over to the door. “I believe you are supposed to say, ‘Lady Dorothea, will you do me the honor…?’”
He opened the door and pushed Miles out of it. “And don’t come back until she says yes.”
Miles’s heart began to thump and he moved with hastened steps toward the door, then stopped short. “Wait! My hat!”
Rock chuckled and shook his head, going into the study to retrieve the hat and hand it to Miles. “Leave it to you to ruin my forward charge.”
“Thank you,” Miles said, holding out his hand. Rock reached out and shook it. He clasped him on the arm and met his eyes. There didn’t seem to be anything else to say.
“Thank you,” he said again.
