Chapter 11
Andrew Smythe must have the patience of Job, Stephan thought, as he surveyed the documents before him.
Already, Stephan had read the document so many times that he had committed a few passages to memory.
It was something which, in his experience, would have left a solicitor feeling impatient or insulted.
Andrew was neither. He sat patiently across the desk from Stephan, seemingly unbothered by how long it was taking for him to approve the documents.
Stephan seldom felt the need to explain himself to anyone, but that uncomfortable urge rose inside him. “I am being thorough,” he said by way of explanation.
“Of course,” Andrew agreed. “Your fastidiousness is admirable, Your Grace.”
Stephan grimaced, his eyes drifting once more to the document.
“I have never prepared any papers for you,” Andrew added. “It makes sense that you would wish to inspect my work.”
“If you are sufficient for Murrayton, you are sufficient for me,” Stephan grumbled.
“Of course, Your Grace.”
As admirable as the solicitor’s patience was, Stephan had begun to find it grating. If he had not already arranged to meet with the Dowager Countess of Thornwall that evening, Stephan would have already sent Andrew away and insisted on resuming their conversation another time.
“The contract is adequate,” Stephan said at last. “And even if it was inadequate, I suppose I would have little choice but to agree, would I?”
The solicitor furrowed his brow. “Not necessarily, Your Grace.”
“What do you mean?” Stephan scoffed. “I only have a year to marry and produce an heir.”
“Ten months,” Andrew spoke with the air of someone who was being forced to deliver terrible news that he would rather keep to himself. “Ten months to marry and produce an heir.”
“Why do you say that?”
Andrew took a deep breath and folded his hands in his lap.
The man seemed to have difficulty meeting Stephan’s eyes.
“The contract says that you will have a year from being named the Duke of Rothbury to marry and produce a child. However, you were unable to return to London until two months after you were named as the duke, Your Grace. Therefore, you have ten months left.”
“To marry and produce an heir!” Stephan exclaimed, frustration growing inside him. “If I succeed, it will indicate only that I am lucky—not that I am worthy of being the Duke of Rothbury!”
That was the reason given for the accursed condition, after all. His father had believed he was unsuitable as an heir, and that impression was undoubtedly because of the Dowager Duchess whispering poison into his father’s ear.
“It is a difficult condition to meet,” Andrew said.
The man’s admirable calm was becoming infuriating. “It is, Your Grace. But there are many solicitors in London who can work very quickly. If you wish for someone else to draw up the documents or to examine my work, I can offer a recommendation.”
Stephan considered it. He was an intelligent and educated man, but he also knew his limitations.
He was no lawyer and had never even seen a marriage contract before Andrew Smythe handed him what he had written.
This was no ordinary contract either, but one filled with unusual conditions, meant to assuage the Dowager Countess of Thornwall.
Stephan did not know everything she might desire, but he was trying to guess.
If the agreement was properly made, it might be just the thing to convince her to marry him.
Evelina had become accustomed to her freedom as a widow; he would assure her that her freedom would not need to be relinquished for their marriage to work.
The thought of seeing Evelina once more sent his heart racing and his blood roaring.
Something in her mannerisms reminded him of the most pleasant aspects of battle, of creating strategies and matching his wits against others.
Evelina waged war with words, and Stephan had to concede that she was an exceptional opponent with whom to match one’s wits.
“I do not need to employ another solicitor,” Stephan said. “The documents are fine.”
He hoped they were. If they were not, Stephan supposed that it was a risk worth taking.
Outcomes could not always be reliably predicted, but Stephan had much to gain if Evelina might give him his needed heir.
Besides, Murrayton was a friend and a reasonable man.
He would not send Stephan a solicitor who was incompetent, and if Andrew did miss something, it would likely be nothing that could not be remedied at a later date.
“Once you sign them, they will be ready for the lady to inspect,” Andrew added.
Stephan inhaled softly and pressed his pen to the paper.
This contract was his last chance to flee and return to the sea.
It was a thought that he had left mostly unacknowledged, but now, the possibility of it returned.
The sea was like a siren’s call, urging him to forget this future of balls and soirees and obligations.
He had done well enough as an admiral. Why shouldn’t he leave the dukedom to someone else?
He clenched his jaw. Abandoning the dukedom would mean that his grandmother would win the war between them, and Stephan was uncertain that his pride would survive such a grievous blow.
Besides, he did not precisely know who his successor would be.
What if the next person in line to be the Duke of Rothbury was the same manner of man who would let himself be ordered about by the Dowager Duchess?
Stephan signed his name and glanced at the clock on the wall, noting that it was nearly time to leave and meet Lady Thornwall.
His pulse quickened. Would she agree to marry him?
Stephan recalled their shared kiss and the fire that had filled his veins when he thought of her.
Andrew looked expectantly at him, which Stephan assumed meant the man was waiting for him to say something.
What had the topic of their conversation been? All Stephan could remember was Evelina.
“The lady should find the terms favorable,” Stephan said gruffly.
“I should assume so,” Andrew agreed. “I have seen many marriage contracts, and your terms are more favorable than most.”
“She expects the best.”
Stephan only hoped that his best terms were sufficient enough to win the lady’s agreement.
In the negotiation of their marriage, Lady Thornwall had an advantage which he did not.
She only wanted a child, but there was no precise time by which she must have one.
There was nothing to prevent the lady from deciding that he was ill-suited to be her husband.
If she refused him, all his labor would be for naught, and he would be forced to find another bride.
There would be some parents eager to give away their young, unwed daughters to him, but it would be frustrating to negotiate again.
Besides, Stephan had only ten months to complete this task, and a marriage had to be announced two weeks before it could occur.
He had precious little time already, and he imagined that most fathers and mothers, no matter how eager to see their daughters wed, might be dissuaded by a man who was so eager to marry and so soon.
They would expect a courtship and engagement. The Dowager Countess desired neither.
“Shall I accompany you?” Andrew asked.
Stephan raised a brow. “For what purpose?”
“If the lady agrees, she will need to sign the document before a witness,” Andrew explained.
“We will have one,” Stephan said.
There would be someone in the lady’s household who could act as a witness. Given how brazen the lady was, Stephan would not be surprised if he arrived and discovered she had even found a solicitor of her own. Stephan grimaced at the thought of arguing over the terms with another lawyer.
“Thank you for your services,” Stephan said. “If necessary, I will call upon you again.”
Andrew stood and bowed. At least, the man recognized a dismissal. “It has been an honor, Your Grace.”
Stephan wondered if Andrew truly felt that helping him was an honor or if the man had merely said that out of courtesy.
As an admiral, Stephan had become accustomed to respect having to be earned.
There had been some deference because his men knew he was one of the ton, but Stephan had also noticed the silent suspicion and discord that followed him when he entered.
Poor men did not trust him. They believed that his position came from birth rather than merit, which had forced him to work all the more to prove his worth to them.
Now, respect was simply given for no reason at all, except that his father had been a duke.
There was nothing left to prove to anyone, except perhaps his grandmother, and Stephan doubted that anything would convince her that he was worthy of her consideration.
Maybe that was the greatest insult of all.
His accomplishments meant nothing to her, but she also would not concede that he was a suitable Duke of Rothbury. He was in an impossible position.
Stephan pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed the heels of his palms into his eyes.
No matter. There was no time to think about his grandmother and her opinions, not when the Dowager Countess of Thornwall awaited him.
He stood, wincing as his muscles protested the sudden movement after being stationary for some time.
That was something else he had forgotten about the ton; they moved far less than naval officers did.
Excitement jolted along his spine, and he resisted the impulse to run down the stairs and to the foyer. Nathanial waited for him at the foot of the stairs. “Your Grace,” he greeted, bowing. “Your coach is already prepared to take you to the Dowager Countess of Thornwall.”
Stephan gave the man a curt nod. Then, feeling vaguely remorseful for being so cold to a butler who was clearly trying very hard to please him, Stephan added, “Thank you.”
Nathanial’s face brightened, as though Stephan had said something especially praiseworthy rather than merely expressing gratitude in a vague, obligatory manner. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
Stephan had no idea what else to say, so he offered nothing else.
Nathanial awkwardly edged around him and opened the door, bowing again.
Stephan forced a smile. Stephan wondered if part of why he found Nathanial to be so unpleasant was because he did not quite know how to read him.
In Stephan’s experience, working men did not inherently respect their social superiors, but this one did.
Had the men in London treated him like this in his youth?
Stephan could not quite remember. He supposed they must have, though. As a young man, he just had not noticed. “Your Grace,” the footman murmured, snapping to attention as he approached the coach.
Stephan waited as the footman opened the door for him.
Then, he climbed into the coach and settled against the seat.
Stephan knew that he could be a good duke, but his background was—admittedly—rather unconventional.
His lips twitched in amusement. Even though he had no plans to devote himself to the woman, it seemed fitting that a man like him should have an unconventional wife.