Chapter Eight

Father summoned James to his library for the third time in a week. James was not generally a superstitious person, but he couldn’t help a feeling of foreboding. Father sat at his desk spinning that blasted signet ring. His eyes shone with anticipation. What was he plotting this time?

“Good afternoon, Father,” James said, hoping he sounded more self-assured than he felt. “I received your missive. What was your pressing matter of discussion?”

“You did not attend the Debenhams’ ball last evening.” It was a demand for an explanation. James knew there was no point ignoring it.

“No, I did not.” He had spent the night with a gathering of gentlemen at his club debating matters of Parliament, a far preferable pursuit than a ball.

“Kielder’s sister-in-law was there.” Father made the announcement as though James had neglected a direct summons from the Prince Regent rather than simply forgoing one in an unending line of balls.

Father took a deliberate breath. He slowly spread his fingers out on his desktop. “You agreed to pay her particular attention.”

“And so I have. I called during an at-home. I took her for a ride in Hyde Park. After I spent a few moments in their box at the theater, she had any number of others do the same.” He hadn’t broken his word to any of them.

“All of Town is quaking over Kielder’s mood last evening. He apparently insisted one of the young gentlemen there feign a loss of hearing or risk being run through.” Why did Father sound so pleased by the reports? “He ordered Devereaux’s heir presumptive to take himself off. He glared poor Mrs. Bower into a very unflattering bout of weeping. The social casualties last evening were staggering.”

And Father was scolding him for not attending the figurative beheading of the upper classes?

“You were supposed to be there, Tilburn, making your case.”

“Making my case?” That was exactly the sort of entanglement he’d been trying to avoid. “It seems you and I have very different ideas of what I—”

“Fortunately, I have already taken pains to make recompense on your behalf.”

James’s entire frame froze on the spot. “What did you do?”

“I sent her flowers along with your apology for not being present at the ball.” If the spinning signet ring was any indication, Father was quite satisfied with his efforts.

Flowers. And a missive. “She will think I am courting her.”

“Aren’t you?” The question was offered in too self-satisfied a tone to be anything but rhetorical.

“Of course not.” James jumped to his feet. “I befriended Miss Lancaster as a favor to you because you made an ill-conceived promise to the most dangerous man in the kingdom. Only befriended her. We were quite specific on that matter.”

“You agreed,” Father replied.

“But not to this.” Panic was quickly setting in. “I said I would stand up with the young lady on a few occasions, call at her home once or twice. You are speaking of courtship.”

“We have always been speaking of courtship, Tilburn.”

James choked back the immediate, very vocal objection he felt. He needed to proceed carefully. Once determined on a path, Father was difficult to dissuade. And James was already in far deeper than he’d ever expected to be.

“His Grace welcomed you, something the rest of Town has little expectation of. You have the advantage of acquaintance. You need only woo her, talk sweet to her, whatever you must. You could emerge triumphant.”

Father could plot and plan all he liked, but James would not stand idly by and watch it happen. Miss Lancaster was a sweet-natured and lovely young lady. She didn’t deserve to be tossed out like an eel pie past its peak of freshness.

“I have no intention of courting the girl,” he insisted. “You have not the legal ability to contract a betrothal for me, nor will I allow you to trap me into undertaking one.”

“Trap you?”

“You talked me into this mess in the first place,” James reminded him. “Now you have sent her flowers on my behalf. This feels far more like a trap than a tender moment of father and son togetherness.”

Father’s mouth pulled into a tight line. “I will not allow this opportunity to slip away. I will do what I must for the good of this family.”

The good of this family. That only ever meant the furthering of his own ambitions.

“I cannot like this, Father. I was invited to act as her friend only. I will not impose upon her further.”

Father didn’t take even an instant to contemplate James’s objection but immediately offered his counterargument. “A courtship from a gentleman who is already a friend is not an imposition.”

“It is when that courtship was enacted on false pretenses.” He was firm on this point. To continue on the path Father was laying out would be dishonest. James would not do that. “I have fulfilled my agreement. I will do no more.”

“Do you not care at all for your name? Your station?”

James despaired of making his father understand the importance of choosing the ethical path even if doing so meant personal inconvenience. His sire seldom bothered to ponder whether or not he should behave in a certain way, preferring instead to be guided by the simpler argument of whether or not he could.

“Our station in life is sufficient for me,” James said.

Father’s gaze narrowed. “That is a very selfish stance, Tilburn.”

“I do not see it that way.” He rose, then sketched a quick bow. “Good day—”

“Shall I tell your mother you no longer concern yourself with her well-being?” Father sat perfectly still. “You know as well as I do how much she depends upon you.”

This scheme had been concocted in part to bring Mother to London with the promise of the duchess’s friendship and support. James couldn’t say his efforts had guaranteed that, but he felt certain Her Grace would at least acknowledge Mother. He needn’t perpetuate a lie to garner further favor.

“No,” James said firmly. “I will not take this further.”

“Then I must.” Father’s confidence remained unshaken. “You subsist upon the income provided you by the estate, do you not?”

Apprehension inched over him. “You know that I do.”

“This estate need not support anyone who does not act in its best interest.” Father pegged James with a firm and painfully patient gaze.

“You cannot disown your heir. My coveted Oxford education taught me that much.” Father’s devotion to that institute of learning bordered on religious.

“Not ultimately, but I have complete control over your income during my lifetime,” Father answered.

“You would threaten to cut me off if I do not acquiesce? You would subject your son and heir to penury in order to have your way?”

“You force my hand.” The words emerged slowly. “I have the betterment of generations of this family in mind, and you can think of nothing but your own willfulness. If you will not do what is best, I must see to it that you are made to. If that requires that I take away your financial support, I will do it, however much it pains me.”

James didn’t imagine anything about the undertaking would truly pain Father other than the embarrassment of a penniless heir. And yet there had been moments in the past week when Father had seemed to soften the tiniest bit. Perhaps it had all been a ruse, a ruse he had been fooled by.

“What say you, Tilburn?”

“It seems I am to live in poverty.”

Father’s brow creased in deep confusion. “What of your pride?”

James squared his shoulders. He would not be forced into this. “Deceiving an innocent young lady by undertaking a feigned courtship, choosing a bride based on my father’s ambitions, making a liar of myself for the sake of social standing does not, in my mind, equate with taking pride in oneself.”

“Do you dare presume to lecture me, boy?”

James took a calming breath. He had long ago promised himself to always treat his father with the respect he himself wished he received from his sire. Though he often fell short of the mark, he was determined to try.

“I do not wish to give offense.” He kept his voice level. “But I will not yield on this matter, even if doing so casts me into difficult straits.”

Father was unshaken. “I control more than your income, you realize. Bennett quite appreciates his quarterly allowance.”

James’s younger brother more than merely appreciated the income he received from their father; he required it.

“How would he live if he were cut off?” Father spoke more quickly, more forcefully, apparently realizing he had struck a nerve. “Bennett has far more to lose than you do should he find himself short on funds.”

Their maternal grandmother had bequeathed to Bennett a small estate in Lancashire. The bequest had come as a lifeline only a year earlier when Bennett had grown desperate to escape the tyranny of their father’s household. He had sunk every ounce of his strength and every penny he had into turning the rundown estate into a livable bit of property. That land meant the world to him, and without the quarterly allowance he received from the Techney estate, he hadn’t the means to keep his inheritance. It was not yet self-sustaining. He would lose everything.

“You would take away Bennett’s income?”

“I will not allow you to throw away the future of this family.” Determination had turned Father’s expression hard and unyielding. “If you will not act in their best interests, then I must.”

James didn’t move, his mind spinning. How could he deprive his brother of the one thing they had both longed for all their lives: freedom? Losing Halford Grange would destroy Bennett.

“You choose, Tilburn. You can defy me and strip your brother of his land and future, or you can accept the good fortune that has been laid in your hands and do the right thing by your posterity.”

“I cannot—”

“I control your mother’s pin money as well.” Father’s piercing gaze didn’t waver in the least.

“You would punish your own wife?” Just how far was Father willing to go?

“I am doing nothing of the sort. You are tying my hands by refusing to do what is best for your relations.”

James couldn’t breathe. How had he found himself in such a position? Holding his ground, refusing to bow to his father’s dictates would destroy his mother and brother, rob them of their incomes and contentment. Bowing to his father’s demands would save Bennett’s land and Mother’s income and grant her entry into the Society of which she’d once dreamed of being a part. But giving them those concessions meant feigning an interest in a young lady who did not deserve his deception, who, if his assessment of her character was accurate, would be hurt quite personally by such ill treatment.

He needed to think, to find a way around this dilemma.

“You cannot expect me to make such a decision without so much as a moment to think it through.”

“I foolishly expected you to act rationally from the beginning.” Much of Father’s anger had dissipated, replaced by a calm James found even more unsettling. Father had made his decision; he would not be dissuaded from his threats. He would follow through, even if it meant making every person in his family miserable for the rest of their lives.

James was too upended to even pace. He could only stand there, frozen and mute, desperately thinking. Only one thing was truly clear: he could not allow the people he cared for to be hurt by Father’s selfishness.

He had already decided to continue being a friend to Miss Lancaster—although pretending a sincere interest in courting her was hardly the act of a friend. What he knew of her, he liked. That aspect of their acquaintance would not be a lie. There was the very real possibility that she wouldn’t accept his suit and an even greater possibility that the duke, should he discover James had not taken on the role of suitor with any degree of willingness, would simply challenge him to pistols at dawn, shoot him through the heart, and leave his carcass for the various wild beasts to devour.

How did this happen? He made a quick circuit of the room, trying to formulate some kind of plan. He could continue calling on her but keep his efforts as circumspect as possible, perhaps even helping the causes of any number of her other suitors. Father might be in a position to force James into a courtship, but he would never be able to force Miss Lancaster to accept.

That was his answer: continue his efforts without truly working to convince Miss Lancaster. She would choose someone else in the end. He could do that, and she wouldn’t be hurt by Father’s schemes. Neither would Mother or Bennett.

“I will have it in writing,” James said.

“You will have what in writing?”

“Your promise that should I pay suit to Miss Lancaster as you require, you will never deny nor diminish Bennett’s quarterly allowance nor will you deprive Mother of her expected pin money. And that you will never force Bennett into a courtship the way you are forcing me.”

Father raised an eyebrow in obvious surprise. “My word should be more than enough—”

“It is not remotely enough,” James said. “If I am to bow this much to your demands, I will protect my family from you.”

“You will protect the family from me? I, who am doing this for them?” Father shook his head, though whether in amusement or denial, James couldn’t say. “You are quite mistaken, my boy. It is I who am protecting them from your selfishness. None of these threats would have been necessary if you had been thinking at all of their well-being from the beginning.”

He doubted he would ever see eye to eye with his father on the matter of what constituted the best interests of the family. There was little point arguing with him.

“Have your solicitor draft a binding document with my required commitments from you.” James spoke as his heart dropped further into the coldest recesses of his soul. Even with a plan in place to protect him from an unwanted marriage and his firm commitment not to impose on Miss Lancaster if he could at all help it, he did not like the future that now lay before him one bit. “Then, and only then, will I so much as speak to Miss Lancaster again.”

“I will have the document ready by day’s end.” Father spun his signet ring about his finger quickly, eagerly.

Without a word of parting, James left the library. He was likely the only gentleman in the entire kingdom who desperately hoped a young lady with enviable connections, social standing second to none, and a fortune of £20,000 would meet his efforts at courtship with complete and utter rejection.