Chapter 2 #3
Aunt Eugenia cleared her throat, and Anthony’s gaze flew to hers.
One of her brows was cocked. “What a very dark brow you have. It did not use to be so. Unhappy thoughts?”
Anthony relaxed his expression. “I have a tendency to look forbidding without wishing to do so.”
Her gaze rested on him searchingly. “Better than a face hiding unsavory thoughts behind simpering smiles. I like you, Anthony. But I wish you would settle down.”
“I assure you, Aunt, I am very much settled.”
“Enough of your impudence, boy. You know what I mean. Find a wife, for heaven’s sake. Or does every last one of my nephews intend to die a bachelor?”
“I think it unlikely in the extreme.” Though, for Anthony’s part, he couldn’t imagine marrying. Women had only ever brought him trouble. Not just to him, either. Silas’s hopeless situation was a direct result of the problems women had brought Anthony.
“Well,” Aunt Eugenia said, rearranging her skirts more prettily upon her carriage bench, “I surely hope not. I refuse to settle my fortune on any of my nephews if they refuse to show the smallest bit of initiative.”
“On the contrary, there is a great deal of initiative amongst us. William is shaping up to be the most unimpeachable and boring eldest son in all of England. Frederick’s political aspirations grow stronger by the day and are on track to rival Napoleon’s by Michaelmas.”
Silas, too, had plenty of ambition before he was forced to flee England—investments in various businesses that would have stood him in good stead if everything hadn’t gone to shambles so abruptly. But Anthony knew better than to bring up Silas in front of Aunt Eugenia.
She waved an impatient hand. “As eldest, William needs no fortune. As for you and Frederick”—she leaned forward slightly, pegging him with her gaze—“between the two of us, I would rather settle my fortune on you.” She sat back, cocking a brow.
“But if you are carrying on with peculiar figures like that man back there and refuse to give any woman the time of day . . .”
Anthony frowned. “Are you trying to bribe me to marry, Aunt Eugenia?”
“Of course I am. I want no more scandal in this family, Anthony.” Her brows drew together suspiciously. “What are you smiling about?”
“Nothing.”
Her lips pinched together. “Out with it, boy.”
Anthony chuckled softly. “It is just that you yourself are not exactly the pattern card of propriety you seem to wish me to be.”
Her mouth twitched at the side, but she controlled it. “My reputation was spotless.”
“Was being the operative word.”
She jabbed a finger at him. “I served my time, young man. I kept my reputation unblemished, made a good match, and now I benefit from the freedom it has afforded me. You do the same, and there may be a pretty fortune in it for you.”
Anthony clasped his hands in his lap and met her intent gaze. “Forgive my frankness, Aunt, but you are not precisely at death’s door.”
She threw her head back and let out a cackle of laughter. “Not an imminent enough reward for you, is it?”
Contrary to what his aunt seemed to think, Anthony had no desire for her to meet an early demise. He liked her a great deal. But the prospect of receiving a fortune in thirty years’ time was not a powerful enough one to send Anthony to the altar.
“Fair enough,” she said. “What if we liven things up a bit, then, hm? Say, five hundred pounds to the first of you to marry?”
Anthony’s smile flickered. Five hundred pounds?
His aunt smiled knowingly, and Anthony composed himself. He had no intention of getting tangled up with any woman while Silas’s affairs were in such a state. Besides, he had the devil’s own luck choosing women.
It was a shame, for he could certainly use Aunt Eugenia’s money to expedite Silas’s return to England. How many fists could be greased, how many tongues loosed with such a sum?
“Do you know the Mandevilles, Aunt?” Anthony asked, his mind returning to his most pressing errand. He couldn’t allow himself to be distracted by his aunt’s games, however lucrative they might be. He owed his full and complete attention to Silas.
Aunt Eugenia’s brow furrowed. “The name is vaguely familiar. Why?”
He shook his head. “No reason.”
His aunt gave him another one of her knowing looks, which he promptly chose to ignore. Miss Mandeville was hardly a prospect for marriage.
He banged on the side of the barouche, and the coachman slowed the horses just before the Park gate. “I must take my leave of you here, dear aunt.” He reached for her gloved hand and kissed the back of it before stepping down to the dirt path.
“See?” she said as he closed the door. “Very pretty manners when you choose to use them. Plenty of women would faint with a kiss like that to their glove.”
“My concern precisely,” he said dryly as he nodded at the coachman.
“Remember the arrangement, Anthony,” she called out. “And don’t forget my party next week!”
He watched the carriage pull away, then took long, quick strides toward the Park’s exit. If he hurried, he could make it to Stoneleigh with enough time to pay a visit to Miss Mandeville.