Chapter 2 #2
Alex nodded again. It was easy to forget that Raj had been married before and had a life before.
The man was a good twenty years older than he was—fifty, at least—but had no trouble keeping up with his two young sons.
“So there are my options,” he said, with a wry acerbity.
“Sell the castle out from under my siblings, or sell off the estate until we cannot afford the castle.”
Eyes skimming over the paperwork, Raj let out a determined huff. “There is another way.”
He looked up.
“Marry,” Raj implored him. “My darling Katherine was in a similar position to yourself. Her first husband left her with nothing but debt and regrets. Had she and I not fallen in love, she would have had to marry whoever would have had her. You are in an even better position, Lakenheath; you’re a titled gentleman without children.
I assure you that if you put the word out now, you’d have a dozen aspiring dollar princesses hammering at the door before dawn. ”
The idea alone lifted a weight from his shoulders, but it wasn’t without its complications. “But it’s not just me they would be marrying. It’s my family.”
Raj seemed to understand exactly what he was saying. “The medical director at Kirknewton says Lord Ben has been getting on well with his ongoing talking cure sessions. I met with him only last week. The patients are doing well; I believe they’ve said the treatments are invaluable.”
Fuck. In his panic, Kirknewton had slipped his mind.
Edinburgh had been home to Craiglockhart War Hospital during the war, catering for officers suffering from shellshock.
After the war ended, Alex donated one of the unused residential buildings on the estate—Kirknewton—for the ongoing treatment of shellshock and related issues.
It was how Alex had met Raj, back when he was buying up hospitals in every direction.
But if Alex had to sell off parts of the estate, where did that leave Kirknewton? Where did it leave the hundreds of shellshocked men it helped?
“Marriage is the only way,” he realised, tunnelling his hand through his piebald hair.
Most men his age were already married, or at least intending to marry.
It would also ultimately deal with the issue of the next heir in line to the marquessate.
Alex knew Ben had never wanted to inherit, not before the war—and certainly not after.
Raj’s nod was sympathetic, the edge of his lip tipping up in a gentle smile. “Chin up. It’s not the worst thing in the world. My first marriage was arranged, and we were very happy. One day, you’ll wonder how you ever lived without a wife.”
“If I get it right,” Alex countered. He didn’t want to end up with a controlling harridan. “You’re more up to date on all of this social standing malarkey. Where would I even begin?”
This was the sort of thing his mother would have helped him with. He’d always brushed off her suggestions to marry, telling her he had no need of a wife. Now he wished he’d listened.
“Well, that depends on what you want. Familial wealth, obviously.”
A niggle of discomfort wormed its way beneath his skin. When stated so boldly, it made him feel like the worst sort of money-grabber. “Preferably,” he muttered, humiliation staining his cheeks red.
Raj looked as though he knew exactly how Alex was feeling. “The ability to give you an heir?”
He gave a grunt of acknowledgement. God, he was actually going to have to bed this poor woman.
“It would be beneficial to have a younger woman, then.” Raj hesitated before adding, “Perhaps sixteen or seventeen.”
Alex choked on his whisky, his eyes watering. “I’m not marrying a child, Raj.” The mere suggestion made his lips twist in simultaneous disgust and disbelief. “What kind of man do you take me for?”
Raj raised his hands in surrender. “To be perfectly honest, I didn’t think you’d want such a young woman either, but even you must admit there are men out there who would jump at the chance. My darling Katherine’s first husband was one such man.”
And the father of Alex’s goddaughter had been another. “They are predators playing at humanity. Nothing more.”
“On that point we agree.”
“And she must have at least some understanding of shell-shock. I can’t have her gawping at Lord Ben.”
Leaning back in his chair, Raj was deep in thought. “I think I already know the answer, but do you care for titles?”
Alex blew out a laugh through his nose. “I don’t give a fig about titles.”
“So,” Raj began, ticking off each requirement on his fingers, being oddly helpful.
“Wealthy, firmly in her adulthood but still young enough to give you children, with a compassionate understanding of shellshock—and, most importantly, the ability to be discreet about your family’s unfortunate financial situation. ”
There was that embarrassment again. “Quite.” Alex wasn’t one to care about social hierarchies, but even he didn’t want to be publicly lambasted as a fortune hunter.
Raj opened his mouth as though to speak, but quickly closed it again.
“What?”
But Raj just shook his head, lowering his gaze. “I don’t want you to think I’m trying to climb above my station.”
Alex exhaled in a huff, too tired for games. “Out with it.”
Raj’s dark eyes found his. “I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned—I have a daughter.”
Alex recoiled in surprise. “You what?”
“Savitha. From my first marriage.” Raj smiled, glancing out of the darkened window.
“She’s very independent. She’s quite like you, I suppose, in that she has no care for London society or unnecessary grandeur.
Certainly knows her own mind; she was one of the first women to graduate from Oxford.
She’s a portrait artist—and a wonderful one at that.
You should see her sketches of the boys, truly remarkable. ”
And truly convenient. “How old is she?” Alex asked, his heart beating ever faster. Raj had never mentioned having a daughter the entire time Alex had known him.
“Twenty-five, so still young enough for children.”
Alex swallowed, thoroughly uncomfortable with discussing a woman’s fertility with her father. Five years younger than him. That was an age gap he’d be comfortable with, and she was a university graduate at that. “Has she ever met a man with shell-shock?”
“Many.” Raj finally took a sip of his whisky. “During the war, my first wife and I treated many patients in their own homes. Savitha sometimes accompanied us as a helper.”
Despite her convenience, she ticked all the boxes—leaving only one.
“Financially,” Raj carried on, reclining against the chair in comfort.
“She does come with a dowry, one that would cover the death duties. My first wife, Sarala, came from a wealthy Brahmin family back in Calcutta, and after Savitha was born, they gave her a joutuk—a dowry—that would pass to her husband upon marriage.”
That seemed unfair, but then was Alex really one to talk? He was the man needing a wife with a dowry.
But his thoughts must have leaked onto his expression, for Raj gave him a knowing look. “At that time, we hadn’t yet moved to England. My first wife’s family was suggesting potential matches for Savitha from day one.”
“But you didn’t make one?”
Raj shook his head. “Sarala was an unusually independent woman—no doubt where Savitha gets it from. We met whilst studying medicine in London, although she qualified a year ahead of me.”
“Your first wife was a doctor as well?” Alex said, with wide-eyed amazement.
“A wonderful one. She wanted Savitha to decide her own destiny. Between the significant dowry Sarala’s parents gave her and the inheritance she received after Sarala passed away, Savitha can chart whichever course she pleases.”
It was a wonderful sentiment, but… “Does she want to marry? Let alone to someone she’s never met.”
“She does,” Raj confirmed, with a surprised laugh. “It came as quite a shock to me, but she contacted me, saying that she thought the time was right to marry. She requested that I arrange a suitable match for her.”
Alex found that strangely flattering. “And you think I am a suitable match?”
Raj’s dark eyebrow lifted. “How many years have we worked together now? Five, perhaps six? Not only did you find alternate care for shellshocked soldiers after the closure of Craiglockhart, you did it on your own estate and funded it to boot. And then you did it all over again down at the sanatorium. You’re an honourable, compassionate man, Lakenheath.
What more could a father want for his daughter? ”
Pride stirred inside him, despite his trying to squash it down.
Was it such an unusual thing for a man to want to help others?
Especially those less fortunate than him.
Before the war, he might have been ignorant of others’ suffering, but not after.
Particularly not after Ben had been blinded by mustard gas.
Fuck. Ben. How was he going to explain a sudden marriage to Ben and Lily? The question barely had time to race across his mind before a rebuttal stepped forth. He would rather explain a sudden marriage to them than the fact that they were losing their home.
The choice settled onto his shoulders, another weight that he would carry. Raj’s daughter was convenient, but if it got out that Alex was fortune-hunting, he’d be the talk of upper-class drawing rooms from Land’s End to John O’Groats. It would undoubtedly negatively impact Ben and Lily.
The precise thing he was trying to avoid.
Raj stood, holding out his hand. “Shall we call it a deal?”
Loosing a breath, Alex copied his movements. “We shall. I’ll begin making the arrangements in the morning.”
He just hoped the decision he’d made had been the right one—for all of them.