The following morning, Kennedy had just called for his carriage when a footman announced the arrival of a guest, Sir Stirling James. Kennedy frowned. What was the marquess doing here so early, and without an appointment?

“Show him in,” he said.

Moments later, the footman reappeared and announced Sir Stirling James. Kennedy rose, circled his desk and extended a hand toward Sir Stirling. They clasped hands.

“Forgive the intrusion,” Sir Stirling said, and released him.

Kennedy indicated the chairs and divan hear the window. Stirling took the seat and Kennedy sat on the divan.

“It’s no intrusion,” Kennedy said. “What can I do for you this morning.”

“I believe it is what I can do for you,” Sir Stirling replied. “I understand you need a wife—immediately.”

Kennedy blinked. “How the devil do you know that?”

Stirling flashed white teeth. “The news appeared in this morning’s gossip sheets.”

“I wouldn’t take you for a man to read gossip sheets,” Kennedy said.

Stirling’s smile didn’t falter. “A man needn’t read the gossip sheets for news of this magnitude to reach him.”

“How the bloody hell did the news get out so quickly?” Kennedy muttered. Then instantly knew the answer. Not only had his father known that he would show up in his home last night, he had known Kennedy would capitulate.

That made no difference.

Kennedy refocused on Stirling. “Forgive me, but I have important business this morning. I was on my way out when you arrived.”

“No doubt on your way to propose to whichever lady it is you’ve chosen to marry.”

The man was uncannily perceptive. But, then, perhaps it wasn’t that hard to guess. Or was it? Kennedy regarded him. “The fact that I’m on the hunt for a wife in no way indicates that I’m racing to the altar. Yet, I get the impression that’s what you think.”

“You must marry within one week, if I understand correctly.”

Kennedy started. “Surely that wasn’t in the gossip sheets?” That would ruin him.

Sir Stirling shook his head. “Forgive me, nae. Society only believes that you have decided to marry. However, I understand that your father gave you a week to marry.”

Anger surged through him. “My lord, you and I are not well acquainted. Forgive me, but how the hell do you know that?”

“The best I can say, is that servants talk.”

Kennedy cursed. “What has any of this to do with you?” His mind raced. He knew Sir Stirling only casually. He wouldn’t have pegged the man for someone who engaged in idle gossip, or who took advantage of those in a vulnerable position. But he’d been wrong about men—and women—before.

“It is well known that you have no interest in marriage,” Sir Stirling said. “To my knowledge, there is no one particular lady that you favor.”

“What of it?” Kennedy demanded.

“I assume, that you would choose a lady among your acquaintances to fulfill your father’s demands. However, I know a lady who I believe will suit your purposes quite well.”

Kennedy was at a loss as to how to reply. Of all the things this man might say, this had never entered his mind. He sat down. “How is it you know someone who will suit my needs?”

“Pure luck, I assure you. This is a lady who is in need of a husband with money.”

Kennedy barked a laugh. “That is a qualification that could include half the women in Edinburgh.”

Stirling nodded. “True. However, this is a lady who is sure to satisfy your father in a way most other ladies cannot. It’s an obvious conclusion to say that your father would like you to carry on the title. However, the earl strikes me as the sort of man who would like to leave behind, shall we say, a legacy.”

Kennedy gave a slow nod. “Your information is uncannily accurate.”

A smile tugged at Sir Stirling’s mouth. “This is more of an impression than information I have gleaned. I don’t know your father well. In fact, I’ve met him but twice, and the last time I saw him was five years ago at a soirée in London. He is a man who is certain of his place in the world, and the impression he will leave behind.”

“You almost make him sound noble.”

“He’s your father, and I would not speak ill of—”

“I have no illusions as to what sort of man my father is,” Kennedy cut in.

Stirling gave a slow nod. “He cares a great deal about how he is viewed by the world. By you and your son carrying on his title, he believes part of him will live on. That is not an unnatural feeling. However, he might consider your successes and even your son’s successes to be a result of his actions.”

“It’s more than that,” Kennedy said more to himself than Stirling. “Even now, with one foot in the grave, he can’t stand to have Society view him as weak. He must be the ever-constant force that keeps the world in motion.”

Stirling smiled, and Kennedy was surprised at the compassion he read in the man’s eyes. “What a shame that he’s wasted his life on meaningless pursuits, instead of caring for the one person whose world did revolve around him, if only for a little while.”

Kennedy felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. What tiny bit of love that had remained after his father tore him from his mother’s deathbed and sent him to university a year ahead of schedule, he’d killed when he’d married Jacqueline. Kennedy barely remembered the days when he’d worshiped his father. Yet those feelings cut like a knife.

“Of course, your father assumes you will choose from the pool of ladies with whom you are acquainted.”

Kennedy realized Stirling was speaking. “What? Oh, yes, I must marry a woman of breeding. He was very clear on that point.”

“This lady will fulfill that qualification. She is, in fact, Viscountess Kinsely, heir to the title. Her father died with no male heir.”

“A second title in the bargain,” Kennedy murmured. “You are correct, that would please my father.”

“It would please him even more if he thought the idea was his,” Stirling said.

Kennedy frowned. “What do you mean?

“I mean, if your father decided who you should marry…” His words trailed off and he shrugged.

In truth, Kennedy was surprised his father hadn’t chosen his bride. “How will my father come to this conclusion?” he asked.

Stirling grinned. “Leave that to me.”

“I can take no chances,” Kennedy said.

“Of course not.” Stirling rose. “I would guess that you’ll hear from your father by tomorrow.”

Kennedy stood. “How do you plan on making him think this was his idea?”

Stirling shrugged. “Very simple, really. All that must happen is for him to learn of the lady’s existence. He will be unable to refrain from interfering.”

* * *

The carriage slowed, and Anne caught sight of a massive stone mansion through the window. She had to be dreaming. The last two nights she’d lain awake searching for a plan that would save her home and her family. Nothing short of ten thousand pounds would ensure they had a chance at survival. Two hours ago, she’d received a note. A summons, really. The Earl of Buchanan requested—commanded—her appearance at his home at three for the purpose of… Despite the presence of the maid sitting across from her, Anne couldn’t help pulling the note from her reticule and reading it for the hundredth time. …arrange a betrothal between you and my son, Viscount Buchanan.

A hundred questions swirled inside her head. Why couldn’t his son find a wife? Why did the Earl want to marry her to his son? How had the Earl heard of her? She was the daughter of an impoverished viscount who didn’t move in Society. She couldn’t remember the last time her father had visited Edinburgh. Had the Earl not heard the terrible rumors about her? Maybe he had, but his son couldn’t get anyone better than an unfaithful woman. Her head felt near to bursting with questions.

The coach tipped slightly and in the next instance, the door opened. Anne extended her hand and allowed the footman to help her to the ground, then he helped her companion. Lady Peddington had insisted the maid accompany her. In truth, Anne was glad for her presence, even if her companion couldn’t offer any advice.

The footman closed the coach door and Anne nodded her thanks, then walked with the maid up the walkway to the door. She knocked. A moment later, the door opened and a footman led them to a large parlor where they settled on a divan. Anne’s heart began to pound and her hands sweated inside her gloves. She had not the slightest idea what to expect. How she wished Lady Peddington had come with her, but other duties prohibited her from accompanying Anne.

The door opened and a short, thin man entered. Anne rose and Molly followed her example.

“I am Mr. Spector, my lady.” He bowed. “His lordship’s solicitor.”

Anne looked past him at the open door.

“His lordship will not be here,” he said. “He is very ill. I represent his interests.”

Anne nodded. “Oh, forgive me. This is Molly, my companion,” she said.

Mr. Spector bowed again, and said, “Please, be seated.”

They resumed their seats on the divan and Mr. Spector took the chair to Anne’s left.

“As I said, his lordship is ill. He wishes his son to marry post haste.” The man gave what, Anne assumed, was meant to be a comforting smile, but it looked more pained than comforting. “He is willing to offer you a generous settlement.”

Anne’s heart pounded. She had known this topic would arise, but had assumed that by the time it did, she would be on intimate enough terms with her prospective husband for him to understand that her title would be her dowry. But a man in line for an earldom had no need of a title as viscount.

“Sir, perhaps his lordship is unaware that I have no dowry to offer, other than the title that will pass to my future husband.”

Again, the man offered a smile, this one almost a grimace. “Indeed, my lady, the earl is well aware you have no dowry. He is pleased that his son will carry your title. If you will take a moment and review the contract.” He pulled a document from an inside jacket pocket, unfolded it, and handed it to her.

Anne angled her head in thanks, and began reading. When she’d finished, she was more than certain she was dreaming. The earl would settle five thousand pounds on her on the day they married—which would be two days hence—and another ten thousand pounds the day she bore his son an heir. On top of that, she would receive a thousand pounds a year to do with as she pleased. The five thousand pounds was enough to get them through the first harvest season.

Her thoughts threatened to churn into chaos, but she forced order and concentrated on one thing: the money. There was no guarantee she would bear a son the first year. A thousand pounds a year wouldn’t support the estate, but another fifteen hundred would get them by. As the wife of a wealthy viscount who was heir to an earldom, there had to be a way for her to get more money. But how? Never mind. She would figure that out along the way. She couldn’t possibly get a better offer than this one.

She looked at Mr. Spector. “I own property north of Perth as well as in the Highlands. That property will remain in my possession.”

“I believe that will be acceptable, my lady. So long as the property falls to your son at your death.”

She nodded. “My mother and sister live at Dover Hall. They will remain there as long as they wish.”

He nodded. “You will reside here in Edinburgh until you bear an heir. After that, you may retire to the country, if you wish. Of course, your son will remain here in Edinburgh.”

A chill swept through her. Leave her son? She hadn’t considered that. But then, she hadn’t considered children beyond the knowledge that children were an obvious result of marriage.

“Are you saying, I will be banished to the country while my children remain here in Edinburgh?”

“Nae, my lady. I am saying that you would not be allowed to leave your husband and take them to the country.”

“Not even for a visit?”

“Of course, you and your husband may decide to visit anywhere you like. But the children will be raised here in Edinburgh.”

Her heart sank. She hadn’t given a thought to where her children might be raised, but upon reflection, she couldn’t imagine them being raised anywhere but at Dover Hall. This was far more complicated than she’d considered. But then, like now, she had considered only the money. What a fool she’d been to think she could simply marry a man and live life as she chose. She had to marry, of that there was no question. But her life would no longer be her own. She could visit Dover Hall and Marr Castle, but even that was dependent upon her husband’s goodwill.

What choice had she? At best, she her sister and their mother would last one more year before the creditors swooped down upon them. If that happened, none of them would have a home.