Chapter 9
Greg tugged at his fencing mask and brushed his hair off his forehead.
“How familiar are you with the process of resolving an abeyance and potentially passing a title?” Greg asked Fave while they practiced fencing with Arnold.
The Pearler’s elegant house had so many bedrooms that the top floor had been converted into a large room with a smooth parquet for Fave and Arnold to fence, Caleb to practice kung fu, and an indoor play area for the children for the frequent rainy London days.
“You’d have to petition the Crown … oh no!” Fave froze and lifted his fencing mask. “Please don’t tell me you’re trying to ascend in rank by taking someone’s title!”
“I hadn’t considered it, but it comes with the bride. She’d lose the rank because there aren’t enough male heirs in her line and?—
“Who’s this girl?” Arnold asked, pushing his sword into the holster.
“Lady Hermione Eleanor Augusta Ellsworth, sister to and daughter of the late Dukes of Ellsworth.”
Fave combed one hand through his hair, holding his foil with the other. “You can’t marry Hermy.” Clearly, he remembered Hermy from the many Yuletide balls Mother gave when the Ellsworths were in town every winter.
Arnold paced the room, his footsteps resonating with a harsh echo on the parquet in the almost empty training room. “It’s madness, Greg! Her brother was the Earl of Ashby.”
“I know,” Greg said. “But he died two weeks ago and now his cousin from the mother’s side wants to marry Hermy to get the title. He’s the only one left in the direct line of the Royal Earldom.”
“So she could pass it on to her husband and then her son, if the abeyance were resolved?”
“It’s all in the will, every step outlined. A windfall to make the will seem valid despite its many unjust conditions for how she may live her life.”
“So you want to find a loophole?” Fave arched a brow.
“I have.” Greg crossed his arms. If he could make Fave and Arnold believe in his plan, it would be viable.
“Why should it be you then?” Arnold asked. He had a practical engineering mind and thought everything had a function or a purpose. Sometimes his pragmatism was annoying. Sometimes, it saved lives.
“Because Hermy’s cousin is a nasty prick.”
“And you love her, always have, always will,” Fave said.
“N-o-o”—Greg drew out the word—“because I’m her legal guardian and I want the best for her.”
“Because you love her,” Fave repeated. “And you’d like to protect her as her husband, not guardian.”
True, but that’s not all.
“You owe her that much,” Arnold said.
Drat, he hadn’t forgotten what Greg had done either. Well, it had been rather memorable.
“That, too,” Greg admitted. There were no secrets between him and his best friends, they knew he’d compromised Hermy over and over when they were sixteen. And then seventeen. And then eighteen. His dry spell over the past few years had been sheer heartbreak.
Fave shook his head. “This is a bad idea. You love her.”
“I grew up, Fave.” Greg couldn’t deny it, Fave would see right through him. “I won’t force her to consummate.”
“You’ll want to,” Fave and Arnold said in unison.
Greg flattened his lips and gave them man-to-man stares. “Says the man who risked his entire family’s fortune and business to marry his wife and the one who kissed the Rabbi’s daughter in the synagogue.”
Arnold cocked his head and stepped in front of Fave. “Does she know about this?”
“Of course, she’s at my house right now, fitting for a gown?—
“She’s here? In London?” Arnold asked. Apparently, Rachel had told Eve but not him.
Why he’d come to his best friends for their blessing only to receive a lecture in propriety, Greg didn’t remember. Perhaps he just needed witnesses for the ceremony.
No, that wasn’t it.
He needed a few guests so the wedding wouldn’t seem so fake.
No, not it either.
His heart soared, and he bubbled with excitement that he didn’t want Hermy to see.
Yes, that was the reason.
“Can’t you just be happy and congratulate me? How often do you get a second chance at love?” Greg gave Fave a friendly boxing in the arm. “I need an engagement ring and bands, by the way.”
“You also need to think about this move, Greg,” Arnold said.
“Like you did when you kissed the rabbi’s bride and had her move in with you the next day?”
Arnold pierced him with a death stare and crossed his arms. “You’re speaking about my wife.”
“And Hermy will be mine.” Greg jerked his head back when he realized how easy it was to say the words. His wife. Hermy.
He rubbed his neck, trying not to burst with glee. The circumstances didn’t matter if he could finally, after all this time, live his life with the love of his life. He’d pay any price, no matter how high. He’d overcome any obstacle, no matter how absurd his victory may be. He wanted nothing as much as a life with Hermy.
“What he’s trying to say is that marriage is not just a move. You can’t take it back,” Fave said.
“Touch and go,” Greg referred to the rules in a tournament, where one had to move a piece if he touched it. “Well, I touched. Now I go to the altar. That’s my move.”
“Last time, you didn’t get to go.”
“This time, I haven’t touched yet, but I have my moves mapped out,” Greg said. “I’m ready.”
Arnold and Fave looked at each other and then at Greg. Their eyes were the same and their expression identical. Sometimes, they were more like fraternal twins than cousins.
“If you marry Hermy,” Fave started, “and I’m not saying that you are?—”
“But I am. I’m marrying her.”
Arnold cleared his throat and blew his cheeks out like a bull provoked by a red cloth in a Spanish arena.
“Greg, if you make this move, it’ll determine the rest of your life … ahem … all your games are mapped out,” Fave said gravely.
“I’m not stupid. I know that marriage is forever.”
“Do you really still love her?” Arnold asked.
Greg wanted to mention in protest that love matches were for young girls’ dreams, not Barons, but these two people knew him better than he knew himself. “Yes.”
Fave deflated.
A pause followed.
Then, Fave pulled up the corner of his mouth as if sunshine returned to his face. “I’ll sketch the ring.”
“Come and pick the bands,” Arnold said.
He’d won them over. There was a chance to achieve the impossible.
“There’s something else,” Greg said.
Fave and Arnold gave him identical deadpan looks.
“Per her brother’s will, I’m still her guardian until she’s married.”
Fave pivoted to hide his frustration.
“You need to pass the guardianship for long enough to get a special license and wed her.” Arnold pulled Fave back by his arm. “You or me?”
“Neither. It’s a conflict of interest.” Fave pinched the bridge of his nose, a gesture he reserved for utmost frustration. “She needs to have autonomy. She’s a person. An adult.”
“And yet, the law created this bridge toward autonomy via the husband, which is a role I cannot take on unless her guardian, which cannot be me, will give consent for her to marry me.” Greg knew this was absurd; it sounded like twelve-year-old girls playing a he-says-she-says game.
“Unless the bride gives her consent,” Arnold said. “That surely means something.”
“You’re first in alphabetical order, Arnold. Do it.” Fave walked to the door. “I’ll speak with Prinny about the abeyance when we present the golden orb. Perhaps he’ll let us do it.”
Greg knew he meant “perhaps we can do this even though we’re Jewish and the law won’t give us equal footing.” There was no need to dwell on the idiotic injustices, stripping women of their choice to wed and Jewish men of their legal footing.
“I just hope this won’t backfire considering how many traps we’re setting ourselves,” Arnold said as he hooked the sword back on the wall.
“I’m the Black Knight, I can jump.” Greg maintained outward bravado, but his heart dropped. Fave was right, there was risk involved. Either Greg could get everything he’d always wanted or he could lose everything he’d ever had. They didn’t say it, but the air was heavy with the dilemma. In a way, it was so bad, none of them dared to speak the words.