not come to fruition, then we shall move on to the Blankenship lasses.”
Ah, the giggling Blankenship chits.
The sisters might possess significant dowries, but they lacked rank, which had been a priority once. He winced at his complete about-face. It made him feel an arse—but that was nothing new. He’d generally felt like an arse these days. Ever since the wretched truth of his illegitimacy had come out.
It did not occur to Mama or Thurman that these heiresses might want more for themselves now that he had . . . well, nothing.
The Blankenship sisters had been kind enough to his face, as were most people, but who knew what they really thought and what they said behind closed doors.
No one in Shropshire had rebuffed him directly. Perhaps it was because his mother still occupied the dower house and was an important personage in the community. Or perhaps the residents of Shropshire were genuinely kind and accepting in true Christian spirit.
Except her.
Ironically, the vicar’s daughter treated him to her usual disdain. She was nothing like the kind and accepting residents of Shropshire or her benevolent father in that regard.
Miss Imogen Bates had always managed to look down her nose at him even though he stood a good half foot taller. She had not concealed her distaste for him—not since they were children and his mother had forced him to spend afternoons with the vicar’s daughter whilst his father and the vicar engaged in long philosophical conversations. What lad wanted to spend the day with a girl? Especially a priggish one who never wanted to do the things he wanted to do.
“And if the Blankenship lasses do not come to scratch, then we shall move down the line.”
Perry wasn’t even certain what—or whom—was down the line, but he was certain he would be told. Ever since he’d moved in with his mother, she and Thurman had resumed old habits. They treated him like a green lad who needed instruction on every matter—from how to attire himself to which ladies he should court. It was unendurable and yet he’d put up with it ever since he’d been evicted from his properties.
“Of course.” Perry gave a two-fingered salute. Unless he wanted to permanently spend his days residing with his mother in the dower house, he had best heed their advice and consider any young lady touting a dowry. That was the sad truth of matters.
Bloody hell.
Perry started eyeing the bottles to his right, desperate for another drink to numb his mind from the bleakness of his life.
He had no wish to spend the rest of his life leeching off his mother. Rather, he amended, the rest of her life. Her widow’s jointure would see her through the rest of her days, and she was granted the dower house until her passing. There was no provision for him, however.
He’d been raised a duke.
He’d been told he was the duke.
That had been the provision left to him. That was his legacy.
All lies.
The dukedom belonged to another and Perry was on his own, without property. Without funds. With only his wits and the strength of his two hands and the charity of his mother. He winced.
His gaze fell on the discarded paper again where the betrothal of Lady Circe to the Earl of Westborough was stamped in ink for the world to see. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut for one long blink as though the sight pained him. When he opened them again, the portentous words were still there. Irrefutable.
He swallowed against the bitter taste coating his mouth, longing to open one of the fresh bottles surrounding him, but he resisted the impulse. He’d imbibed enough for the night. He needn’t drink himself to oblivion. That was the act of a desperate man. He was not that. All was not lost. He would persevere. He would find another heiress. His life would improve. Somehow. He would make certain of that.
“Did, er . . . nothing untoward happen yesterday when you were in the village?” Thurman queried.
Perry considered that for a moment. The question seemed rather arbitrary, which was not a word he would have applied to the rigid butler in any sense. If one word could be applied to Thurman, it was deliberate. “Why do you ask?”
“You did nothing to offend anyone whilst there?”
Perry contemplated that, playing the morning over in his mind. “No. Not to my knowledge.” True, it was not in his habit to consider how others might perceive him, but certainly he would know