Page 20 of The Vagabond Viscount
“You will marry who I damn well tell you to,” said the earl, his tone low and threatening.
“Please. That is unnecessarily cruel.”
The earl rose from his chair, and Flynn took a hurried step back. The safety of the door beckoned.
“What is cruel is having to see your face every damn day. Haunting the halls of my home. Carrying my name.”
Flynn’s gaze shifted to the other side of the chair, where he spied the end of his father’s weapon of punishment. Any minute now, it would be waved in his face.
“But why would you need to choose a wife for me? There are plenty of young ladies in high society who are perfectly acceptable,” Flynn asked.
Augusta’s name stuck in his throat. He was torn. Desperate to marry her, but still in fear of putting the woman he loved in harm’s way.
The why was more important than the issue of who in this situation. Where his son was concerned, Earl Bramshaw never did anything without there being a way to inflict some measure of pain.
“The cards and horses have not been running my way for quite some time. The particular chit I have in mind has a sweet papa who will clear all my debts if you marry his daughter. With the lure of a title and social connections for his little girl, her father’s purse will be open to me. Once you are wed, you will work your charms on your new wife and get money when I need it. Women tend to do what they are told if given the right sort of motivation.”
Flynn shuddered at that last remark. It held all manner of distasteful notions. Earl Bramshaw viewed most people as a means to an end, so a daughter-in-law wouldn’t pose any real problem for him. Which meant Flynn would struggle to protect her.
What was surprising about any of this to Flynn? Nothing. The debt-laden earl had solved his money problems and found his son a bride in the process. What Flynn thought of it likely didn’t figure into his father’s thoughts.
And I thought to ask you to let me marry Augusta. Perhaps she is better off marrying someone else. At least she would be out of your vile reach.
The pain of his father’s rejection continued to stab at his heart. After all these years, it really shouldn’t, but it did. Flynn hated himself for craving just an ounce of affection from his sire. Even one kind word would have been better than the sun shining brightly on a cloudless day. But that was never going to happen.
“What do I get out of this?” he ventured.
The earl scoffed. “You get a roof over your head and a warm body in your bed. It’s more than you deserve.”
When the other greyhound made a noise in its sleep, the earl turned to the dog. He stepped away from his son, his muscular hands flexing as he moved closer to his favored pets. Flynn caught a second glimpse of the hateful cane poking out from behind the chair. A familiar ripple of fear raced down his back. It was a warning. If he remained in the room, there was every chance he was going to be on the receiving end of his father’s wrath.
It was time to concede defeat and beat a hasty retreat. The earl was still fussing over the dogs as Flynn made his way to the door. As soon as he was outside in the hallway, he hastened his steps. He was at a half run when he rounded the corner, taking the stairs two at a time up to the next level of Bramshaw House.
Once inside his bedroom, Flynn locked the door. For a moment, he stood listening for any sign of his father having followed him. To his relief, there was only silence in the house.
He began to process the conversation he had just had with his father. Earl Bramshaw had chosen a bride for his son. A stranger whose father would not only settle the earl’s debts, but who would one day become Flynn’s countess.
The mere notion of marrying this unknown woman made him nauseous. How could he possibly share his future with someone he had never met?
I have to do something. I can’t let this happen.
He was going to have to come up with a plan, and quickly. If he didn’t, not only would Augusta be lost to him, but he would be saddled with some stranger as his wife. Flynn could just imagine that his father might already have the church and minister booked. And knowing how cunning the earl was, the first Flynn would know about it would be when the banns were being read in church on Sunday morning.
Augusta would suffer the same heartbreaking experience that he had felt watching her dance with another. The dance had ended, but marriage to another was for life.
No. I won’t stand for it. He has gone too far.
It was time to finally throw off the shackles of his life. To strike a blow for the future he wanted, for both himself, and the woman he loved.
He was not going to give Augusta up, nor was he was going to let his father near her.
ChapterTen
Flynn’s feet pounded the pavement as he made his way from Bramshaw House to his uncle Charles’s home the following morning. In his coat pocket were several pieces of paper covered in hastily scribbled notes. The fire of grim determination burned brightly in his heart.
Late last night he had roughed out a plan, but he needed someone to offer him strong counsel and confirm whether his thoughts made sense. His greatest fear was that he was deluding himself—that he was in real danger of throwing his life into the air, only to have the breeze pick it up and scatter it away to the four winds.
Charles Cadnam was the only man whose opinion Flynn fully trusted. He was also the one man who had a solid understanding of just how dire Flynn’s situation had been over the past years. Not even Gideon knew the full extent of the earl’s wicked ways.
