some war or other. Papa had lucked into his father’s cheese fortune and his uncle’s little title, then lucked into Mama’s generous settlements. That made the old boy no expert on anything except being lucky.
And tattling to Mama at the worst possible time. “I’ll give Clarice babies,” William said. “I’m good at that too.”
Papa’s smile was pained. “Part of what you will give Clarice is connections, William. She’s the daughter of émigrés, desperate for acceptance. Your lineage can be traced back to the Conqueror on your mother’s side, and Clarice craves that evidence of English respectability.”
William nearly told his father, Then you marry her, except Mama would take a dim view of bigamy. Besides, a brand-new traveling coach was delightful to contemplate. The fancy ones had benches that folded out into sleeping arrangements, and the possibilities that presented to an enterprising and charming fellow were marvelous.
“I’ve said I’ll marry her.” William stubbed out his cheroot on the sole of his boot. “I would rather have married Della Haddonfield.”
“From the looks of things when I came upon you in Alconbury, her ladyship was having second thoughts.”
“I love it when the ladies have second thoughts,” William said, flicking the stub of his cigar into the fire. “Convincing them to see things my way is great fun for all concerned.”
“I’m glad you’re willing to put some effort into charming Clarice,” Papa said, pushing away from the desk. “Perhaps you will be glad to show off your pretty new wife at your godmother’s house party.”
“A house party?” William liked house parties. The food and drink were free, the opportunities for romping plentiful. He also enjoyed the evening card games, where a whole flock of pigeons who seldom frequented London gaming hells were available for plucking. “Godmama’s estate is ever so pretty this time of year. I could do some shooting.”
“Think of it as a wedding journey,” Papa said, tucking away the settlement proposal. “Clarice will be introduced to our circle of friends, and you can get to know each other better in pleasant surrounds.”
“Tell Godmama the happy couple must have separate bedrooms. A connecting door will do, but Clarice will need her rest.” William would make sure of that. Begin as you intend to go on, Mama always said. For once, her advice was worth following.
“I’m sure Lady Wentwhistle will be happy to oblige. I will send our acceptance to Clarice’s papa by special courier.”
“You do that,” William said, sauntering for the door. “I will contemplate my good fortune over a pint at the inn. Make my farewells to the tavern maids, so to speak.”
“Just be sober Monday morning,” Papa said. “Your mother will never let you hear the end of it otherwise.”
William bowed and withdrew, but Papa, of course, was wrong. If William was tipsy when he spoke his vows—and he would be somewhere between tipsy and roaring drunk—Papa would never hear the end of it. William would be too busy getting to know his wife better.
“So you intend to marry Ash Dorning?” Jonathan’s question was casually put, along the lines of, So I hear you’ve taken up the viola.
“I do,” Della said. “The solicitors are already at work on the settlements.”
Jonathan wandered from one piece of cutwork to another, from a childhood sketch to dried flowers in a frame. This parlor had belonged to Della’s mother, though Della considered it hers now.
“And nobody thought to consult me regarding the settlements?” Jonathan pretended to study a poem an eight-year-old Della had written for her mama, something about a cat and a butterfly. Mama had asked Nick to make the frame, and thus a child’s verse had been preserved for all to gawk at.
“I would not expect Nick to consult you,” Della said. “He is the head of my family and regards me as his responsibility.”
“Well, I expect Nick to consult me. Not only because I have more means than Nick and Casriel put together many times over, but also because I am your brother and well acquainted with Ash Dorning. What are you reading?”
“A medical treatise.” On disorders of the mind. Della shoved it into her workbasket. “If you are here to talk me out of the wedding, don’t waste your breath.”
“I would not dream of attempting to dissuade the most determined female in the realm from an objective she fixed upon months ago. Will Ash Dorning make you happy, Della?”
Della had seen Jonathan in a rage, bewildered, courting, and at cards. His commercial acumen bordered on genius, and his knowledge of politics