Lady Rosabella's Ruse - By Ann Lethbridge Page 0,71
Kit. He might be able to break the entail. It wasn’t as if his brother was relying on the title or the land, it had just seemed the right thing to do. A way of making up for stealing his brother’s birthright.
He glanced down at his wife to be. She looked none too happy. Might as well deliver all the bad news. If they were going to do this, they were going to do it right. ‘About the singing.’
She looked hopeful.
‘If you want your sisters to make good marriages, it is out of the question.’
Her face fell. The urge to comfort her took him by surprise.
‘There are lots of hostesses who have musical evenings. Once they hear your voice, I am sure you will be invited to sing, not for money admittedly, but people will want to hear you nonetheless.’
He hoped. Most of the ton’s hostesses shunned him as if he carried a disease. His own fault. Once he’d learned the truth about his birth, he’d shunned them and their trumped-up mores.
He would have to tell Rosabella that he wasn’t exactly considered good ton, but not until after the wedding. He wouldn’t give her an excuse to refuse him. Which was madness, since he should be glad she didn’t want to wed him. No. Not madness. No child of his would suffer what he had gone through.
‘Or we could have our own,’ she said more cheerfully. ‘You could invite your friends.’
His friends, most of them, were not the sort of men he wanted meeting his wife. He would have to enlist Mark’s help.
Or he could ask his mother.
He’d sooner be roasted on a spit over a slow fire than ask his dear mother for anything.
Too bad Kit had left England. He was probably the one person who would be happy to help, even if he was the person who should resent Garth the most. But Kit was abroad, so Mark it was. He hated asking his friend for help, when it seemed he had troubles of his own.
‘If you are having second thoughts,’ she said, pulling her nightgown on over her head, ‘I really would be quite happy to rejoin the opera company.’
Could she read his mind? He gritted his teeth. ‘I am not having second thoughts. I am just thinking about the best way to go about this.’
She leaned down and picked her discarded dressing gown from the floor. She turned her back and put it on, effectively distancing herself. He pretended not to notice, but rose naked from the bed and picked up his robe from the chair. He shrugged into it.
‘First thing in the morning, I will visit your grandfather and request his permission to wed you.’
‘Why? He cares nothing for what I do.’
‘Because it is expected and right. And it will help stem malicious gossip. I assume he has guardianship of your sisters until they are of age?’
‘No. He wanted nothing to do with us when my father died. I am their guardian.’
The whole thing was odd. To leave a young woman with so much responsibility and no wherewithal to carry it out. No wonder she had debts. ‘How old are you?’
‘Three and twenty.’
She said it as if that made her a woman of the world. ‘You are little more than a child.’
She shot him a glare and he wanted to laugh, but decided against it. He had her where he wanted her and women were unpredictable when their tempers were aroused. They threw things or cried. He hated tears. ‘Then we’ll ask for his blessing, if not his permission. He’ll give it, because he won’t want his name bandied around as the man who let his granddaughter be ruined.’
Suspicion filled her expression. ‘Do you have enough money to make good on your promises right away? My sisters’ need is urgent.’
‘I do. Give me a list of your debts first thing in the morning and my man of business will see to them immediately.’ Kit hadn’t kept his financial brilliance to himself and his generosity had filled Garth’s coffers very nicely, despite an expensive and dissolute lifestyle. He’d made sure of it for Kit’s sake.
‘Thank you.’ The words sounded heartfelt and full of relief. A considering expression crossed her face. ‘There is one other thing you could ask of my grandfather.’
Ah, here it came. The real reason for her sneaking around in Gorham Place. ‘What?’
‘My mother’s chest and my father’s writing desk. I’d like to have them as mementos.’