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Perry shook his head. “Those will not be necessary. My mother can beg rides from her friends or take a hansom cab to her destinations. The designated allowance from the estate is more than generous for her to do so.”

Chapman rose, and Perry followed suit. “Then I will see to it straightaway, Lord Martindale. I will put my son in charge of this so you can see what he is capable of. Once he has found and purchased the property, I will have him come to Beauville and report to you regarding the matter.”

The two men shook hands. “I had a room prepared for you in case you wished to wait and return to town in the morning,” he told the solicitor.

“That will not be necessary, my lord. I can catch the last mail coach coming through Alderton. With sunset so late this time of year, I can be back in London before dark.”

“Thank you again for coming to Surrey to meet with me, Mr. Chapman. My carriage will take you back to town.” He glanced at the stacks of papers they had gone through. “You should collect these.”

“They are all copies of documents already at my office, my lord. These are for your benefit. I will merely take the extra copy of your parents’ marriage settlements with me.” The solicitor placed that document inside his satchel.

“Then I appreciate your thoughtfulness. And Mr. Chapman—have your son begin work on finding my mother a place to stay first thing tomorrow morning.”

Biting back a smile, the solicitor said, “Of course, my lord.”

Chapman left, and Perry glanced through some of the papers again. He would organize them tomorrow since it was almost teatime.

He went upstairs to the drawing room, where he found his mother pacing.

“I see Mr. Chapman just left.”

“Yes, he did.” Perry took a seat as a maid appeared with the teacart. “Would you care to pour out, Mother?” he asked genially.

“Of course, Martindale,” she said brightly, looking optimistic about their upcoming conversation.

The maid left. He watched his mother act as hostess, accepting the cup and saucer she handed him.

He placed a scone and half a roast beef sandwich on his plate and then took a bite of the sandwich, chewing slowly.

He knew she watched him carefully, eager to hear what he had to say.

Perry took his time, finishing his food and tea before engaging her in conversation.

By then, she sat nervously, her hands fluttering about.

“Well? What say you?” she finally demanded. “What did the marriage contracts hold?”

“They were full of many interesting things,” he began. “Much of it was devoted to the sons you would have beyond the heir apparent and the dowries for your daughters.”

She waved a hand dismissively. “I did my duty to your father. I provided him with his heir. What of me?”

Leaning back in his chair, he casually crossed his ankle over one knee. “The settlements allow you to live in the dower house the rest of your natural life. With a small staff and an allowance, of course.”

Her expression turned dour. “Surely, you do not expect me to languish in the country, Martindale? I have never been happy here.”

He shrugged. “That is what was written into the settlements. I assume your father had a hand in them.”

“He did,” she reluctantly admitted. “But my papa would not want to see me unhappy. I was his favorite child.”

Perry waited a full minute before saying, “I see no need for you to live in the dower house. You rarely come to Beauville.”

“Thank goodness,” she said, relief evident as her body relaxed. “What of my allowance?”

“We will get to that. Since you will not live in the dower house—by your own choice—it is up to me whether or not I provide you a place to live.”

“Pish-posh,” she said. “I can merely keep living in the townhouse. I have my rooms there.”

“You currently live in the rooms of the Countess of Martindale, Madam. The moment I take a bride, you will become the dowager countess. And you should not expect to have those rooms any longer.”

She pouted, her bottom lip turning out. “I suppose I can give them up once you wed. I could take rooms in the west—”

“You will not be living with me and my family.”

Her eyes widened. “What?”

“I do not wish to be under the same roof with a stranger.”

Visibly trembling, she said, “Oh, please, Martindale. We are not strangers.”

“But we are. You never came to Beauville in the year I lived there after graduating from university. I never saw you any of the summers I came home from university because you were always at the Season. Other times when I returned to Surrey, you were never here. In fact, I am thinking, counting my years at war, it has been at least ten years since we have been in the same room. Frankly, I have no interest in you living in my townhouse.”

Her posture stiffened. “Look here, Martindale. You must—”

“Must what? My only legal obligation is to grant you access to the dower house and your quarterly allowance. Since you do not wish to live there, you will live where I tell you to.”

Anger burned in her eyes. “And where might that be?”

“I will arrange for you to have a house in town.” Before she became giddy, he added, “A small house. I will pay for the house and the servants who staff it. I will also provide your allowance.”

He named the amount and said, “You will pay for your personal expenses from it. Your gowns and hats. That sort of thing.”

“I can do so,” she said, somewhat mollified that he would provide her with a house and servants.

“In exchange for my generosity, I ask that you do not visit me. Either in town or here at Beauville.”

Growing bolder now that she knew the arrangements, she said, “Why would I? It is as you pointed out. We are strangers. Sometimes, it is hard for me to imagine that you even grew inside me.” She frowned. “You were a difficult child. Hard to love.”

He refused to play her games. “You never cared for me. You dumped me in the hands of servants. They are who raised me. And now you are reaping what you sowed.”

“I will return to town tomorrow,” she said, spite in her voice. “I will stay in my rooms until you have found a place for me.”

“Chapman and his son will be on that first thing tomorrow morning,” he said.

“He knows this is a pressing matter, so he should find something rather quickly in order to please me. Have your maid start packing your things. The moment I hear from him, you are to leave my townhouse.” He paused.

“And while I will allow my carriage to take you to town, it will return here. After all, it is my carriage.”

She stood, spots of angry color dotting her cheeks. “I have a headache. Tell Foster I will take supper on a tray in my room.”

Though he wasn’t overly fond of her returning to the London townhouse, it would be best to have her gone from Beauville.

“Suit yourself.”

Perry watched her cross the room and called to her as she reached the door. “One more thing. I will be cordial if I come across you at an event next Season, but beyond a greeting, there will be no conversation between us. And you will have no say in my choice of a countess.”

“But—”

“And if any rumors reach my ears that inform me you have spoken ill of me in any manner to any soul in London, the offer I have made you is rescinded. I will toss you from your house. You can either return to the dower house here at Beauville—or find somewhere else to live.”

He saw her take in his words and recognized when she accepted defeat.

“Of course, Martindale,” she said, gritting her teeth. “Why would I speak poorly of you, when you will give me a house to live in and servants to wait upon me? I wish you a good day.”

She left. He hoped he would not see her again until next Season, and then, only for a brief moment here and there.

In effect, they were now officially estranged, with him being most generous to her.

He had no worries that she would try to damage his reputation because she would cherish the fact she was allowed to remain in town.

She might hate him—but she would never say a word against him.

Not only would it reflect upon her if she did so, but it would keep her from everything she loved.

Some might have thought Perry heartless and cruel for having done what he did.

But he knew this was imperative to his own survival.

He returned to his study and wrote to Lady Dru, asking if she wished to ride with him around Beauville tomorrow. If so, he would call upon her at the Huntsworth stables at ten o’clock.

Ringing for Foster, he gave the butler the note, requesting that a footman take it to Huntsworth and wait for a reply.

An hour later, a return message came.

Lady Dru would be waiting for him.