Page 41 of The Duke’s Indecent Scandal (Indecent Dukes #1)
Nathanial
Wife. Money. Wife. Money. Wife. Money.
His family needed the second, which meant he needed the former.
If only there were another way…
That thought flittered through his head at least ten times a day, but he had been over it and over it and over it again, by himself, with his man of finances, and with his friends. They all came to the same conclusion. Most avenues of increasing his wealth would either take far too long or need an influx of capital to be viable in any manner.
Capital he did not have unless he agreed to a loan from one of his friends—a good deal of his family’s debt was to the very banks he’d originally gone to—or married a woman with a large dowry. A very large one would cover his debts and allow him to make some moves to turn things around, though it would still take time to bring the coffers back to what they should have been.
Sometimes, he wondered if he should thank whoever had murdered his father, whose profligate ways had gone far beyond squandering the estates for which he was responsible. Even his position as a duke might not have been able to keep him from Newgate prison if he’d kept going on the way he had been. Nathanial’s mother’s family did not have the means to bail them out, either.
“Which means I need to marry. Soon.” Saying the statement out loud always felt like he was giving it more weight, as if the load was not heavy enough already. Which was why he forced himself to do it. To remember why he was putting himself through the torture of a search for a bride. Why he was at a house party this weekend.
He stared out the window of Blackstone Abbey, down at the courtyard where another carriage was pulling up. Another guest for the house party he’d been invited to this weekend. Lady Astrid had assured him that almost all the ladies in attendance would have dowries more than sufficient to cover his debts and that she would be sure to point him in their direction.
A knock on his door had him turning away from the window.
“Come in.” He waited only long enough for the door to open and nodded his greeting at Matthew, Duke of St. Albans. The Lord of Luck nodded back, grinning as he stepped inside, closing the door behind him.
“Watching the arrivals of our brides-to-be?” he asked, chuckling.
Nathanial pushed a smile that he did not feel onto his face. Matthew was one of his friends who had offered him money. Not even a loan. Matthew did not need to be repaid. Unlike Nathanial’s father, everything Matthew touched turned to gold. The gambling hell owners groaned when they saw him coming.
There was a part of Nathanial that wanted to just take Matthew’s offer and relieve himself of the burden his father had placed on him, but his pride would not allow it. And pride was one of the few things he had left in his possession, other than the entailed estates the family literally could not sell. Everyone would know that he had taken money from one of his friends. His family’s reputation would take another hit. With his sisters all nearing their debuts into Society, he could not do that to them. They deserved to be able to marry whoever they wanted, and he could make that happen for them.
He just had to take the only honorable way forward and marry a young lady with a large dowry from a family of good reputation and a multitude of connections.
“You were not?” he asked in return, moving his attention back to the family disembarking from their carriage. A little jolt went through him. Even at this distance, it was impossible not to recognize the Little family. Mrs. Little, Miss Little, and the younger Mr. Little all had skin far darker complexioned than the rest of the ton.
Nathanial did not care about that, though he knew some did. From the moment he’d met Miss Little, he’d felt a spark, an immediate attraction… and he’d had to bury it.
“Ah, Miss Little.” Matthew peered over his shoulder before coming around him. “Very pretty. Dowry is certainly large enough for you. Smart of Mr. Little to capitalize on the rose diamond mines in India. Too bad it did not do anything to help convince his pater to accept his marriage and children.”
“Her dowry is more than large enough, but…” Nathanial let the thought hang.
“But what?” Matthew blinked owlishly, turning to look at him in confusion. Though he was a wonderful friend, sometimes Matthew was very obtuse, especially when it came to navigating the ton. Everything always worked out well enough for him.
Unfortunately, unlike Matthew’s Midas touch, everything Nathanial’s family touched seemed to turn to pure shit.
“I have my sisters to consider.”
“You think they would not like her?”
“I think that she would not be able to help them navigate their own Seasons. With the way she and her family are being ostracized this Season, I cannot risk marrying her and hope that the ton changes their collective mind by the time Juliana debuts next year.”
“Juliana debuts next year?” Matthew was genuinely horrified, which was exactly how Nathanial felt. “When did she get old enough for that?”
“Time creeps up on us, does it not?” Nathanial chuckled grimly. “Another reason why my own wedding needs to happen as soon as possible. To a bride with connections, who can help guide her and who will help bolster our family’s reputation after what my father did to it.” He took in a huge breath and sighed, his gaze lowering back down to the family in the courtyard. He had to give his sisters the best chance he could to find good matches to honorable men who would treat them well and care for them.
Miss Little’s pink traveling dress set off her dark hair and skin to perfection, her matching bonnet hiding most of her features. Just looking at her made him want to throw his responsibilities to the wind and do something for himself. Truly choose for himself.
He consoled himself with the knowledge that it was nothing more than an initial attraction, and it would fade. Perhaps getting to know her better during the house party would help it fade faster. Instant attraction rarely lasted beyond true interaction.
Matthew’s hand came up to Nathanial’s shoulder to give him a comforting squeeze.
“We will find the right bride for you.” He gave Nathanial’s shoulder another pat, then reached into his pocket, pulling out his lucky coin. “Maybe she’s the right bride for me.”
Though he refused to show it on his face, Nathanial’s entire gut clenched when Matthew flipped his coin in the air. He had the most unnerving desire to reach out and grab it so it could not land.
Matthew caught it and opened his hand, sighing as he shook his head. The tension immediately unraveled from Nathanial’s body as he let out the breath he had not known he’d been holding.
“Still says no,” Matthew said cheerfully.
“You have flipped for her before?” Nathanial asked. He had not realized.
“Of course. She’s pretty, she’s quiet, she’s sweet. I need to marry someone.” Matthew leaned forward, squinting in the distance. “There is another carriage coming.”
“Are you flipping to marry them or just to court them?”
“Court them. Mostly.” Matthew shrugged. “Sometimes just a dance. It depends on my mood.”
Wonderful. Whether or not Miss Little married his closest friend was dependent on the coin landing correctly. Maybe for once, he would get lucky, and the coin would point Matthew at some other young lady for the duration of the party.
The Littles moved out of view. The carriage coming up the lane was approaching the house.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Matthew slanting a glance at him. His friend turned away slightly, flipping the coin again.
“What did you just flip for?” It was not a question; it was a demand for an answer. Something about the way Matthew had looked at him made him suspicious.
“For you and Miss Little.” Matthew shrugged, sheepishly tucking the coin into his pocket so Nathanial could not see how it had landed.
“What did it say?”
“I do not know if it works for anyone but me.” Matthew shrugged, leaning forward to watch the carriage stop in front of the house.
Nathanial thought about pressing him but decided against it. Not that it mattered. Unlike Matthew, he did not live his life by the flip of a coin. He made his own decisions, and Miss Little was not for him.