Chapter 28 - Michael
Despite the calm facade he’d presented to Claire, Michael’s stomach had twisted itself in knots by the time he rapped his knuckles against the polished door of Cavendish’s study.
He consoled himself with the knowledge that he had wealth, a title, an excellent family—all things a brother would want, in terms of pedigree.
“Come in.”
The study was as luxurious as the rest of the house, with wood-panelled walls and marble flooring. Still, there was a starkness to the furnishing that harkened back to William’s days in the navy.
William sat behind a massive mahogany desk, frowning. It appeared that his meeting with Devonshire hadn’t gone well, and for a moment, Michael thought of begging off until the morrow.
Then he remembered that Claire was waiting for him, and there was a ring in his breast pocket. “Cavendish, I’ve come on a rather personal errand.”
William narrowed his eyes and drummed his fingers on the polished desktop.
Michael cleared his throat when he realized that the man wasn’t going to help him along in this endeavor. He continued, “I’d like your blessing to ask Claire for her hand in marriage.”
William arched a brow. “I have it on excellent authority that you’ve already asked her.”
He frowned—there was no way Claire had informed him, so how had he known?
William shook his head as if he’d read the question on Michael’s face. “It doesn’t matter how I found out. Is it true?”
Just then, Beatrice barged in, tears streaming down her face. Michael was half out of his chair in an instant at the sight of her distress. William didn’t seem fazed at all, and after a second, Michael sat again. Perhaps this was a normal occurrence he wasn’t privy to.
“William, I’m so very upset about—” Beatrice paused, looking about the room. Spotting Michael, she said, somewhat triumphantly, “About not having a serious suitor this Season!”
“Is this about the tiaras?” William asked blandly.
Beatrice nodded even as she wiped her running nose with a handkerchief.
“What kind do you want?”
“Emeralds suit me best,” she said breathlessly, her red-rimmed eyes still streaking tears.
“Very well. Get out.” William flicked a hand in the direction of the door.
Beatrice turned and fled.
William turned back to Michael. “Now, where were we?”
Michael decided it would be best if he didn’t pretend he’d forgotten. He straightened in his chair and said, “I did ask Claire to marry me already, and she’s said yes.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Do you love her?”
“I do.” Michael said the words with all the sincerity he planned on using in front of the minister, hopefully in the very near future.
“Very well.” William shooed him away, already turning back to his ledgers. “Welcome to the family and all that. Fair warning, we’re a bit mad.”