The Persuasion of Miss Jane Brody (The Brody Family #1)

Chapter One

The door to his library crashed opened, bouncing off the bookshelves behind.

An erect, gray-haired lady dressed in the latest Parisian fashion marched into the room and stood before him as he sat behind his oak desk, bathed in early afternoon sunshine.

Jonathan Everslie, Marquess of Dalton, gave her his full attention, as she clearly wanted, and smiled in amused anticipation.

Without hesitation, Lady Lucinda Mulgrave launched the frontal attack he expected. “Now you have inherited the title, you must marry, Dalton, you must!” The up and down motion of her pointing index finger emphasized her words.

Good grief. He hadn’t been admonished like that since boyhood.

“You have a large family of dependent aunts and cousins, and there is no heir to follow you. Do you want them thrown out on the streets when you die?”

Jonathan fought to keep a smile off his face and attempted to calm her with logic. “I must have an heir somewhere, Aunt Lucinda. It only stands to reason. If I were to expire, I’m sure he would be found.” As an afterthought he added, “And would look after his dependents.”

His aunt raised her chin and stared down her aquiline nose at him, her mouth set in a disapproving line.

“There may be a cousin in New South Wales from my youngest brother who was sent there in exile—but his mother could be a convict for all we know. It is your duty to marry and beget an heir, and soon.”

“Let me be absolutely clear, Aunt Lucinda. I know it is my duty to marry, but I won’t marry anyone I consider unsuitable.”

Lady Lucinda ploughed on with her lecture. “This is not the time to be fastidious. There are myriad young ladies every Season more than suitable for the task—with impeccable backgrounds, and some with money to match.”

His words hadn’t stopped his aunt... hadn’t even slowed her down. What would it take to placate her? “And I will consider them. However, the Season doesn’t begin for another seven months. This conversation is premature.”

“Nonsense, there are many families with eligible daughters whom you could visit or invite to stay at Everslie Park in the meantime.”

“And how do you suggest I do that?”

“You have your secretary write invitations and send them, Jonathan.” She glared at him.

“How do I know who these candidates are?”

“I have a list already written.” She produced it from her reticule with a flourish and laid it on his desk. “I expect to be presiding over a house party for these ladies and their families at Everslie Park by Christmas.”

Having delivered her message and assumed agreement, Lady Lucinda nodded to him and strode from the study, leaving the door wide open.

In frustration, Jonathan ran his fingers through his hair, pushing the short dark waves from his forehead.

He picked up the list and scanned the names set down in his aunt’s fussy handwriting.

He had met them all and been bored to the point of irritation by their simpering ways.

He groaned and crumpled the paper into a ball, tossing it into the empty fire grate.

“Stevens!” His elderly secretary and man of business appeared in the doorway. “Send to the stables for Nate to saddle my horse. I’m going out for a ride. I believe we have concluded today’s business.”

“Yes, we have, my lord, but have you forgotten that you promised to take your sister to a lecture this afternoon, as Lady Lucinda is unavailable?”

Vexed at the impediment to his escape, Jonathan sank back into his chair with an exasperated sigh.

“Ah, yes, I remember. We shall be gone for the afternoon.” He was trapped by his obligations.

Or was he? Stevens still stood in the doorway, waiting for further instruction.

He had an idea. A smile spread across his face.

“Send word to my solicitor that I shall see him tomorrow morning.”

“May I tell him what it concerns, my lord?”

“I wish to trace the whereabouts of my uncle’s family in New South Wales, as he has met his maker.”

Stevens nodded and left to follow Jonathan’s orders.

Jonathan sank into a reverie about the onerous obligation that befell those who inherited titles—that of producing heirs for the benefit of their families. Of course, he mused, it shouldn’t be an onerous task to find a wife and create a family—it should be a pleasurable duty.

Why wasn’t it turning out that way?