Chapter 27 #2
It took him a couple of minutes to find the right distance at which to hold the paper so he could read it (Why didn’t the man own a pair of spectacles?
Alec asked himself with irritation) and cleared his throat.
“Well, ah, per the terms laid out by her father, Mr. Hardcastle, she is to have settled on her, at the time of her marriage, an annual income of five thousand pounds a year. That sum would, of course, be in perpetuity. She is also the sole heir, excuse me, heiress to the estate. Therefore, upon his death, she would inherit everything. Now, that exact amount would not be known, naturally, until the time of Mr. Hardcastle’s passing.
But he notes if things continue increasing the way they have been, the income would likely be at least eight thousand pounds a year in total.
If not more.” He lifted his head and jabbed at the paper.
“Mr. Hardcastle has a note here that these are conservative figures. He does not wish to over-promise. And he cannot prognosticate the future. But this, ah, this is what he believes he can safely lay out to any prospective suitor who is deemed acceptable.”
Alec almost gulped and stopped himself in time.
Five thousand pounds a year. And then more—eight thousand?
Higher? It would save the estate. It would save his daughter.
It would save his tenants. Their collective futures would be secure.
Damnation! He was nothing more than an adventurer.
He had to take a moment to get his anger at himself under control.
“And might I, that is, might my suit be deemed acceptable, in your view, as proxy to Mr. Hardcastle?”
“Oh, yes, I should say so, Your Grace. Without question. Most suitable. I have the authority to draw up the paperwork and have it signed as quickly as you wish. Yes, indeed. Most suitable. No question, no question at all. Would you like another drink?”
Alec blinked at that. Momentarily speechless, he shook his head.
More of a response was called for, however.
“No, thank you, sir. It all sounds most acceptable to me. I do have one request before we draw up and sign any paperwork. Call it a soldier’s eccentricity, if you’d like.
” If he was going through with this business, he would do so as honorably as he could.
“And what might that be, sir?” Lord Wentworth was starting to relax, Alec observed. Seeing the light at the end of this particular tunnel and a return to his nap coming speedily into view? “I am sure we can accommodate.”
“I would like to discuss my suit with Miss Hardcastle. I have no desire to force an unwilling partner into marriage.”
“Oh, no, sir, most assuredly not. But I am most certain Miss Hardcastle could have no possible objection to an offer such as yours.”
“Be that as it may, I would still like to speak with her.”
“As you wish, sir, as you wish. You dukes have your little foibles, as you say. We can most assuredly accommodate them.”
“Thank you. Is Miss Hardcastle at home that I might speak with her?”
“Yes, yes, I believe so. I will call for the butler. He will, as you say, arrange for—bring you to—yes, right away.” Lord Wentworth tugged at the bell pull and explained with unabashed relief to the shortly appearing butler that the Duke of Selkirk wished to speak with Miss Hardcastle, so where might she be?
“She is down in Lady Wentworth’s morning room, milord. They are having a dish of tea, I believe. I shall escort the Duke of Selkirk there directly.”
Alec rose, gave a bow to Lord Wentworth, who had risen at the same time and returned the bow, and followed the butler out of the library and down the stairs.
Almost over, Alec. Almost over. But now comes the hard part.
Miss Hardcastle and her blue eyes. He both dreaded this and hoped for some sort of absolution.
But exactly what that would be, he was not certain.
* * *
Alec was ushered into the morning room, where he found Lady Wentworth and Aurora sipping their tea.
Milady sat quietly in front of the unlit fireplace, ostensibly working on a piece of embroidery as it lay in her lap.
It was clear she was to serve as general in this next battle by quite obviously keeping a sharp eye so that events continued smoothly.
Interestingly, there was no sign of the divine and distracting Millicent.
He bowed to her ladyship, then to Aurora. A dip of Lady Wentworth’s head indicated he was to take a seat on the settee next to her charge. There was a faint rattle of cup and saucer. He thought he detected a slight choking noise as Aurora set her tea down on the small table next to her.
“A dish of tea, Your Grace?” enquired the chaperone.
“No, thank you, Lady Wentworth,” he responded.
That worthy set down her cup and took up her embroidery frame, ostentatiously ignoring the pair on the settee. An uncomfortable silence fell.
It was to be an afternoon of awkward silences, it appeared.
Once again, reluctantly taking the lead, Alec cleared his throat.
“Miss Hardcastle, this afternoon, I have had a most candid conversation with Lord Wentworth concerning my particular interest in pursuing an attachment to, um, you. As he stands as proxy to your father at the present moment, it was only proper I approach him first.”
At this point, Alec reached out a gloved hand and picked up Aurora’s cold and limp one.
“You would do me the greatest of honors, Miss Hardcastle, if you would consent to be my wife. I have an ancient family estate in Scotland and an old and well-respected title. I have a daughter, whom you know, and of whom you—erm—appear quite fond. In point of fact, she thinks of you as her special friend. I am a rough, military man—not many airs and graces, I am afraid. I would deal honorably with you in all things and would,” here he swallowed, “most decidedly cherish you ‘til death us do part, should you accept my suit.”
* * *
Aurora had wondered what it would be like to receive a proposal, from not only an eligible man but one who, if she was being honest with herself, made her heart race from the first moment she had seen him.
And she felt—nothing. Time seemed suspended. It was as if she were watching the entire scene from afar, as though it was happening to someone else.