Page 12 of A Lord in Want of a Wife (Daring Debutantes #2)

‘Then how—’

‘I must do it as my father did it and my grandfather.’ Not to mention a large portion of the world. He looked down at his hands. He had not wanted it to come to this. Indeed, he had spent most of his life looking for another way to find coin. How bitter it was to admit that he had failed.

‘You are going to marry it.’ There was no condemnation in Lord Wenshire’s tone. It was how most of his peers and compatriots made their coin. The process was as old as the aristocracy.

As his bride, a wealthy girl would eventually become his countess, and he would have the funds to make something substantial for himself, his sisters and his children. That was the plan. All it needed was a moneyed wife.

‘You look to my daughter.’

‘Yes.’

‘I have money in cargo,’ Lord Wenshire said. ‘And money in a bank in London. But my real asset is this ship.’ He leaned back and fondly stroked the wall. ‘She’s beautiful, isn’t she?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘And she will go into my daughter’s dowry. This boat plus whatever I make from the cargo below. It will all be hers.’

His breath caught and his heart soared. That would be a great start for him.

Especially if he could learn from Lord Wenshire.

He could figure out a cargo that wasn’t controlled by the East India Company.

Or maybe he could find a lucrative arrangement with the company.

That was, after all, what Lord Wenshire had done.

It was possible. There was hope!

‘I will honour my vows to your daughter. I am not a man who cheats at cards or any other venture. And I will learn from you and work hard. This I swear to you.’

Lord Wenshire held up his hand. ‘You misunderstand me.’

‘What? I am asking for Lucy’s hand in marriage. I am asking for her dowry of a ship and its cargo. And I swear I will care for her and our children. I can give them a good life and she will be a countess one day! Surely that is far beyond what you had imagined possible for her.’

The man’s brows went up and his tone darkened. ‘Why? Because she is Chinese?’

And a bastard, but he would not say that aloud. They both knew that the English aristocracy would not easily accept one such as her. But it was possible. If she came in as a future countess.

‘I will support her,’ he vowed.

‘But she does not have the dowry you want.’

It took a moment for his words to reach Cedric’s brain. ‘What?’

‘Grace’s dowry is this ship and the money from the cargo below. I haven’t dowered Lucy yet beyond whatever she gets from the spices.’

His thoughts had been on Lucy, never Grace. He needed a woman who could become a countess, not a wild girl who ran the sails like a sailor. ‘But you have adopted Lucy, as well. You said as much.’

‘Yes, I have. But Grace and this ship go together. She is the one who knows how to sail it. She is the one who can navigate better than any man. She is—’

‘But Lucy understands the buying and selling of cargo. That is where the profit is.’

‘And Lucy looks at you as if you hung the moon and the stars.’

Cedric frowned. He was to be punished because his choice of bride liked him?

Lord Wenshire scoffed at Cedric’s confounded expression. ‘I am not a fool. I have seen women destroyed by a bad husband.’

‘But I’m not a bad husband!’

‘Maybe, maybe not. Grace is a woman who knows her own mind. She has worked and fought toe to toe with men since she began sailing. She is a woman who forces a man to live up to her expectations. And believe me, she expects a great deal.’

‘I am offering a title. I am offering to work as hard as any man would.’

‘And Grace will make sure you do it well. Gain her respect, and you will gain my trust. She will have this boat and the cargo. It is her dowry because she knows what to do with it.’

‘And Lucy?’

‘Lucy is too young to marry.’

‘They are nearly the same age!’

‘She will give herself to you and hold nothing back.’

‘As a wife should.’

‘A wife, yes. But to become your wife, you must prove worthy of being her husband.’

Cedric threw up his hands. ‘I am willing to work!’

‘Maybe, maybe not.’ His gaze hardened. ‘I return to England every so often, and I hear things. I know you are called The Inconsistent One.’

His cheeks burned. ‘That came from my aunt.’

‘The Duchess of Byrning. Yes, I know.’ Lord Wenshire’s brows arched. ‘A worthy woman. She is a leader in society.’

And a shrew who tarred Cedric and his father with the same brush. ‘She does not know me.’

‘Neither do I. At least not well enough to hand you either one of my daughters.’

Cedric ground his teeth, knowing that any father of an heiress would say the same thing. Still, it burned that he was being denied his choice of bride. It had made little difference to him before when one heiress was the same as another. But he had a preference now. He wanted Lucy.

‘What can I do to earn your respect? What can I—’

‘Earn Grace’s respect.’ The man folded his arms across his chest. ‘My decision is made.’

Cedric stared at Lord Wenshire. He saw the hard jut of the man’s jaw and the calm challenge in the man’s eyes. ‘But Grace has no interest in me.’ And the feeling was mutual.

‘Then learn to be consistent as you wait for Lucy.’

It was a test then, to see if he could be patient. If he could wait for what he wanted. If it were his life alone, then he could. He would! But his sisters did not have that kind of time. And neither did the tenants who had buildings falling down on their ears or the canal that was already rotting.

And yet he still considered it.

‘How long?’ he whispered. ‘Until you believe Lucy is of age?’

The man shook his head. ‘I cannot say. She has not found her strength yet.’

Cedric shook his head. ‘Did you see her this morning? Did you see how she negotiated—’

‘She was brilliant.’

‘Too right!’

‘And she did it to impress you.’

Cedric shook his head. ‘She loved it. And, I think, she wanted to impress you.’

Lord Wenshire snorted. ‘I have adopted her. She has no need to impress me.’

‘Clearly she does if you give a dowry to her sister and not her!’

Lord Wenshire’s slammed his hand down on the table, his first show of violence that Cedric had ever seen. ‘She is too young. If you want this boat and its cargo, then impress Grace. Bring Grace into your heart. She will make sure you are worthy of it.’

‘And what of love? What of the feelings between me and Lucy?’

‘They are the feelings of children. I thought you were a man.’

It wasn’t true. Neither he nor Lucy were children playing games, but he could see that Lord Wenshire would not budge on this. And Cedric had no other options.

Damn it, he couldn’t marry a dowerless girl! He needed coin, and the only way to get it was with a wealthy bride. Tender feelings could not come into it. And yet, his chest hurt as if he had been stabbed.

‘I will change your mind,’ he said quietly.

‘No, you will not.’

Cedric was used to wild emotional swings from his father. He’d been screamed at, doted upon and completely ignored by his father. If he wanted to persuade his father of something, he merely needed to wait for a congenial mood.

But Lord Wenshire was of a different sort. He was a man of commerce, and he could not be easily swayed.

‘I am a fortune-hunter,’ he finally said, the words more for himself than for Lord Wenshire. ‘I have no other choice.’

‘I know.’

‘But you are forcing me to go against my heart. Against her heart!’

‘I am forcing you to be a man who thinks things through logically. And I am protecting my daughters. Grace will keep you in line. Lucy will not. She is too young.’

Cedric closed his eyes, all his dreams for the future refusing to realign around Grace. They didn’t work without Lucy.

Except, of course, they did. He needed the ship. He needed the money from the cargo. The wife was simply the means to these things.

‘I told Lucy I would speak with you tonight.’

‘And so you have.’

‘But…’ He swallowed. ‘How do I tell her that…’ He couldn’t say the words aloud.

How could he tell a woman that he must put her aside for money?

That the man she had chosen—himself— was nothing but a crass fortune-hunter?

He couldn’t speak that aloud to her because he couldn’t bear to see the light die in her eyes.

‘Don’t say a thing,’ Lord Wenshire said.

‘What?’

‘Lucy!’ he called. ‘Step around the door. I know you are there.’

Cedric’s head snapped up, his gaze trained on the galley room door. And sure enough, a moment later he saw her step around the wall. She’d been standing just out of sight, no doubt listening to every word.

‘See?’ Lord Wenshire said with a sigh. ‘Eavesdropping is a childish thing. She could have demanded to stay or demanded an accounting afterwards. Instead, she hid around the corner.’ He looked to her and his gaze softened. ‘You are too young to marry, Lucy. I’m sorry.’

And with that, he stood up and headed for the door. She met him a step inside the door, and he pulled her into a hug.

‘You will see,’ he said to his daughter. ‘You will see how little feelings matter in this world.’

‘That’s not true!’ Cedric said as he shot to his feet. ‘You are the one forcing this. You are the one ignoring what we feel.’

‘If they are so important to you, then you can wait.’ He looked down at Lucy. ‘I am not forbidding this marriage if you both want it. But it will have to wait several years.’

Cedric did not have several years to wait.

And Lucy did not have a ship or cargo. ‘You are forcing me to become something I do not want.’ To court Grace he would have to go against his nature.

He would have to woo her in as calculated a way as any general waging a war. It would be coldhearted and demeaning.

‘Life often forces us to change. It is the mark of a man to adapt.’ Then he squeezed his daughter’s shoulder and directed her out of the galley. ‘Come along, my dear. It’s time for us both to rest. We were awake much too early this morning.’

And so the man took his daughter away, leaving Cedric to stand in the empty galley and fume.

A man adapted? Damn him!

Cedric had refused to adapt his gambling to win all the time. He would not become a cheat.

He had refused to adapt to torturing peasants for opium, and so he had left the East India Company.

And now his only hope—his sisters’ only hope for dowries—was if he adapted to court a woman he did not want. Marry an heiress for her coin. That had been his plan, after all, once he landed in London. So why not begin it here?

Could he make that adaptation? Could he give up Lucy forever?

He had to. And the truth of that cut deep.

He dwelled in that pain as long as he could.

He dropped down into his chair and stared numbly at the floor.

But in time, he had to move. He had to make a choice.

If he could not have Lucy, then he would court her sister because she was the one with the boat and the cargo.

That was what a man did to provide for his family.

How he despised himself for it.

But he did it anyway.