Chapter 6 #4
“Lucky you, indeed,” the baron rejoined, completely missing Ian’s irony. “I’ve a few conditions to the settlements you need to be informed of.”
Ian strolled along beside his guest, forcing himself to note the sound of gravel crunching under their feet, the way the breeze fluttered the ivy growing up the north wall of the house, the raven sitting on the weathercock atop the stable.
This was a lovely home, a home Ian wanted to pass along to his children.
He wanted to provide for his family and provide well.
He wanted the next Earl of Balfour to have a good, honorable example to follow.
For these reasons he kept his tone perfectly genial while Altsax huffed and puffed next to him. “I haven’t asked for the lady’s hand yet, Altsax. Don’t you think negotiations at this point are a bit premature?”
“No, I do not. I think you’re a complete lackwit for not stealing into her room, anticipating the vows, and having done with this farce.
You can dance around the rowan tree with her, or whatever passes for a wedding up here, and I can get back to my own estates and a gentleman’s more civilized pursuits in Town.
A mistress the caliber of mine isn’t going to tolerate indefinite neglect. ”
“You’re encouraging me to take liberties with your daughter?” No wonder Genie was nervous.
“I’m encouraging you to have done with this pretense of a courtship. Marriage is business, man. I know, I’ve been married for better than thirty years, and I can tell you most honestly marriage is business, and a sorely vexing business at least half the time.”
Ian’s parents would have argued that conclusion. His grandparents would have laughed at it outright. “What conditions did you want to discuss?”
“Not conditions, Balfour. Demands, and for God’s sake find a man some shade.”
If a man hadn’t left his bedroom trussed up to the nines in the latest fashion in riding attire, he might not be turning red as a beet in the summer sun. “Over there.” Ian gestured to a shaded bench but declined to sit beside Altsax. “What are your demands?”
“It’s not complicated. You must offer written assurances Genie is marrying a member of the MacGregor family in expectation of a title.”
Ian nodded. Of course he could offer those assurances, but he wasn’t about to agree to anything with this buffoon so easily. “Go on.”
“Genie will be hostess at Balfour House in the summer months. You’re not to be hauling her off to the Continent or allowing that sister of yours to run this household when Her Majesty is in residence next door.”
Forgive me, Mary Fran, for not planting my fist in this English piece of shit’s face. “I’m listening. What else?”
“Genie will attend the London Season with her husband’s escort when she so chooses, provided she isn’t knocked up.”
“I take it your baroness has contributed a mother’s perspective on this situation?” Surely that had to be the explanation for such a request.
“God, no. Do you take me for a fool? The whole point of this match is so I might show off my ability to marry my daughter to the title of my choice. She’s to come to Town for a few months every year and flaunt her prize, show the world what her papa married her to.
Her daughters will hold the title lady, and that’s no mean accomplishment for a baron’s get. ”
Show the world what her papa married her to. Ian had long considered the London social Season akin to a livestock fair, though he’d never felt the comparison quite as keenly as now, when he’d been demoted from a who to a what.
“I’ll pass these requests on to my solicitors, Altsax. If I accede to them, they will of course affect the settlements.”
“Affect the…? You have to be jesting.”
“Residing here over the summer means all manner of friends and relations will want to visit us, so they, like you, can claim to have been out walking with Her Majesty. Entertaining costs money, and if Genie is in residence here, that will preclude my family from putting the house to paying purposes. Seasons cost a great deal of money. Traveling hundreds of miles to and from London costs money. Making over this entire house to reflect my wife’s preferences rather than my sister’s costs money I had not intended to spend. ”
“Ah, so you weren’t going to establish Genie here as your lady?”
“Of course, she would be the lady of whatever house we dwell in, but I have a property of my own, Altsax, among the finest in the shire.”
Altsax waved a hand. “Some little farm left to you by your granddame. That will not do, Balfour.”
It was thousands of acres of the most arable soil in all of Deeside, with grounds made gorgeous by the mountains rising up just west of the house. It was also profitable as hell. The sparkling jewel in the otherwise tarnished financial crown of the MacGregor family portfolio. It would more than do.
“I’ll pass along these requests to the lawyers,” Ian said. “You may await our response, assuming I offer for your daughter.” He turned in the direction of the stables, needing to get away from Altsax before violent urges overcame his sense of familial duty.
“I don’t judge a man for driving a hard bargain,” the baron said from where he sat. “After all, you’ll have to take on Genie for the rest of your life. Why else would I be paying you a small fortune to get her off my hands?”
He snorted jovially at his own reasoning, while Ian walked off and wondered how in the name of Almighty God he was going to come to terms with such a cretin.
Because he was going to, even if it killed him.