Chapter Eleven
Drake stared morosely into his brandy, watching the amber liquid catch the light as he swirled it in the crystal glass.
“Marriage,” he muttered under his breath. “Confound it all.”
The elegant confines of White’s felt stifling tonight. All around him, London’s elite gentlemen engaged in quiet conversation, placing wagers in the famous betting book, or reading newspapers by the ample light of expensive beeswax candles.
Normally, the club’s atmosphere of restrained masculine privilege suited Drake perfectly. Tonight, it felt like a prison.
“You look as though someone’s just informed you of your imminent execution,” Harrison observed, dropping into the chair opposite Drake’s. “Though I suppose impending matrimony might feel similar to a confirmed bachelor.”
Drake shot his friend a withering glance. “How did you know?”
“Your expression, for one,” Harrison replied, signalling to a passing footman for his own drink.
“And Lord Carrington mentioned something about your solicitor making inquiries about eligible young ladies this Season. It wasn’t difficult to deduce the reason, given the peculiarities of the Greythorne entail. ”
“You know about that?” Drake’s laugh held no humour. “How was I the last to find out? My solicitor informs me that I must secure a bride within months or lose everything I’ve begun to build at Greythorne, and you think I ought to be delighted?”
Harrison studied him thoughtfully. “When I’ve seen you face business setbacks in the past, you typically respond with strategic planning, not brooding in corners of gentlemen’s clubs. This seems to have affected you differently.”
Drake drained his glass and set it down with more force than necessary. “Because this isn’t business. This is my life.”
“Is it the marriage itself you object to, or the timeframe?” Harrison asked as a footman delivered his brandy. “You surely realized that an earl must marry eventually.”
Drake considered the question.
“Both. Neither.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair.
“I’ve never been opposed to marriage in principle.
But I’ve always assumed it would happen when I met a woman I couldn’t imagine living without, not because some long-dead relative decided the Halston line must continue according to his timetable. ”
“A romantic notion for a businessman,” Harrison observed with a raised eyebrow.
“I saw the alternative up close,” Drake replied, his voice dropping. “My parents’ marriage was a carefully negotiated alliance between families of similar standing. Appropriate in every way Society would measure. And utterly devoid of affection.”
Harrison nodded, familiar with the broad strokes of Drake’s family history but perhaps not the details that suddenly seemed important to share.
“My father treated my mother as an ornament,” Drake continued, the words flowing more freely than he’d intended.
“Beautiful, expensive, and ultimately meaningless beyond her ability to enhance his standing. When I was twelve, I found her crying in the conservatory. Not sobbing—my mother was too well-bred for that—but silent tears while she arranged flowers as though nothing was amiss.”
“What happened?” Harrison asked quietly when Drake paused.
“She told me never to marry unless I found someone I respected as much as I desired. Someone whose mind engaged mine as thoroughly as her beauty pleased my eye.” Drake’s mouth twisted in a bitter smile.
“The next day, she was back to playing the perfect lady of the manor, and my father never noticed anything amiss. But I couldn’t forget. ”
“Is that why you left for America? To escape that legacy?”
Drake nodded slowly. “Partly. After Oxford, my father expected me to take up the appropriate duties of a gentleman’s son—a military commission, perhaps, or a position secured through his influence.
The thought of following that predestined path, ending in a marriage exactly like his, was suffocating. ”
“So, you forged your own way instead,” Harrison said with approval.
“America offered possibilities England couldn’t,” Drake agreed, memories of his early days across the Atlantic surfacing vividly. “No one cared about my family connections or titles. Success depended entirely on one’s own efforts and intelligence.”
“And you found that liberating.”
“Completely.” Drake signalled for another brandy. “I started with almost nothing—a small allowance my mother had secretly saved for me, against my father’s wishes. I worked on the docks in Boston at first, learning the shipping business from the ground up.”
Harrison’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “I knew you’d built your fortune in shipping and trade, but I hadn’t realized you began quite so... practically.”
Drake smiled at his friend’s diplomatic phrasing.
“You mean you didn’t think I’d actually worked with my hands? Calluses and all?” He held up his palms, where the softness of aristocratic privilege had long ago been replaced by the evidence of real labour. “Best education I ever received.”
“And now you face the prospect of returning to exactly the life you escaped,” Harrison observed. “A title, an estate, a marriage of convenience.”
“Precisely.” Drake accepted his fresh brandy from the footman with a nod of thanks. “Though Greythorne itself has proven unexpectedly compelling.”
“The land, you mean?”
“The land, the people, the sense of... continuity.” Drake struggled to articulate the connection he’d begun to feel with the estate.
“It’s different from my business ventures.
Those were about proving myself, building something from nothing.
Greythorne is about preserving something that already exists, something with its own history and purpose. ”
Harrison studied him over the rim of his glass. “And does Lady Katherine factor into this unexpected attachment to your inheritance?”
Drake’s head snapped up. “What do you mean?”
“Come now,” Harrison said with a knowing smile.
“Your conversations inevitably circle back to her. ‘Lady Katherine suggests this planting method,’ ‘Lady Katherine has implemented that improvement.’ You speak of her as a respected adversary at minimum, and at times, something considerably more admiring.”
“She knows Greythorne better than anyone,” Drake replied stiffly. “It would be foolish to ignore her expertise.”
“Of course,” Harrison agreed, his tone suggesting he wasn’t convinced this was the full explanation.
Drake frowned.
“It’s complicated.”
“Matters of the heart usually are,” Harrison replied mildly.
“This isn’t about my heart,” Drake insisted. “It’s about Greythorne’s welfare. Lady Katherine has proven herself an invaluable resource for understanding the estate’s needs.”
“A resource. Is that how you think of her?”
Drake shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “A colleague, then. A partner in Greythorne’s management, however unexpected that partnership might be.”
“If you say so,” Harrison replied, clearly unconvinced. “Though it might be worth considering why the thought of seeking a bride in London fills you with such dread, when you’ve faced far more daunting challenges without blinking.”
Before Drake could formulate a suitably cutting response, they were interrupted by the arrival of Mr. Winters, looking flustered and out of place in the rarefied atmosphere of White’s.
“My lord,” the solicitor said with a hasty bow. “Forgive the intrusion, but there are matters requiring your immediate attention.”
Drake suppressed a groan. “More conditions attached to my inheritance, Winters? Perhaps I must also take up residence on the moon and learn to play the bagpipes while standing on my head?”
The solicitor blinked, clearly uncertain how to respond to this uncharacteristic display of sarcasm. “No, my lord. It’s rather that I’ve received an inquiry from Mr. Reginald Halston’s solicitors.”
Drake stiffened. “The naval captain. The next in line should I fail to meet the marriage condition.”
“The very same, my lord.” Winters shifted uncomfortably. “It seems he’s heard rumours of the entail’s requirements and wishes to... introduce himself.”
“How extraordinarily convenient,” Drake said, ice creeping into his tone. “And how, precisely, did he become aware of my particular deadline?”
Winters tugged at his cravat. “I couldn’t say with certainty, my lord. Though such provisions are matters of legal record, accessible to those with sufficient motivation to search them out.”
“Or to those tipped off about their existence,” Drake suggested darkly.
“Halston,” Harrison cautioned. “You have no evidence of any impropriety.”
“Not yet,” Drake agreed. “But I find the timing suspicious, to say the least.”
“Be that as it may, my lord,” Winters interjected, “Mr. Halston has requested a meeting. As he is positioned to inherit should you... that is, should the conditions not be met, it might be prudent to assess his character and intentions.”
Drake drained his second brandy, the burn in his throat a welcome distraction from the mounting frustration in his chest. “By all means, arrange it. I’m curious to meet the man who stands to benefit from my failure.”
“Very good, my lord.” Winters hesitated, then added, “There is also the matter of your search for a suitable bride. I’ve taken the liberty of compiling a list of eligible young ladies currently in London for the Season.”
He produced a folded document from his coat pocket and placed it on the table between them. Drake stared at it as though it might bite.
“Sixteen names,” Winters continued when Drake made no move to take the list. “All from respectable families, with suitable connections and documented good health. I’ve prioritized those known for their even temperaments and practical dispositions.”
“A cattle market inventory,” Drake muttered, finally picking up the paper.
Winters flushed. “I merely sought to assist in what must be a challenging situation, my lord.”