Page 7 of The Wise Daughter
Mr. Carver folded his arms. “And you expect the duke’s charity?”
Nora’s father opened his mouth but said nothing, his eyes jumping from the duke to his steward.
She held her breath, hoping that the injured man she had met by the river meant what he had said about the duke helping those in need, especially since she now understood that he was talking about himself.
“Carver,” the duke said, “thank you for coming so quickly, but I do not require any assistance right now.”
“But Your Grace–”
“I can easily send for you again. Right now, I wish to hear what the Lacy’s have to say in private. You may leave us now.”
Mr. Carver’s chest visibly rose with each breath he took through flared nostrils. “Are you certain that is what you wish, Your Grace?”
“I am. And please tell Chuff to have rooms and baths prepared for our guests as well as meals to be sent up.” The duke gestured toward the door.
The very mention of a bath and a meal almost made Nora want to follow the grumpy steward and find those comforts herself, but her future still hung before her like bait on a fishing line.
“Very well.” Mr. Carver tugged on the lapels of his coat and lifted his chin before reaching the door and stepping out in a brisk stride.
“I apologize for my steward,” the duke said. “Ever since the death of my father, he has been excessively worried for my well-being.”
Nora still hadn’t found her voice yet and could only stare, but she gave her father a nudge. They had come too far to retreat now.
Her father cleared his throat. “Of course, Your Grace. Even from our little town of West Riding, your father was reputed to be a shrewd but kind man.”
It might have only been a trick of the light that flickered from the fire, but Nora could have sworn, the duke’s eyes welled up with these words.
“I’m so sorry about your father,” she said, grateful to find something sincere to say.
“Thank you.” The raspiness from earlier returned. “Would you please continue, Mr. Lacy, by telling me a bit more? What sort of help are you hoping to receive?”
Nora could see the Adam’s apple in her father’s throat bob up and down. “I have a small kindness to beg of you. It would be easiest to ask for money, but what I really desire is another chance.”
“Another chance at what exactly?”
The duke appeared curious. Nora didn’t know whether to count this all as good fortune or a strange web of fate that would only ensnare her.
“If I might have a bit of land, just a small parcel, I would work as diligently as I could to make it profitable to us both. I’d pay you your portion, of course, but in time, I could recover what I’ve lost and regain my footing in society.
” He patted his forehead with his handkerchief.
“If you help us, Your Grace, I will be forever in your debt.”
“Hmm. I have a feeling you are no stranger to debt, Mr. Lacy.” The duke looked at Nora as if this were something they had discussed at least a dozen times before.
“Mr. Lacy, I enjoy helping others when I can, but you cannot be ignorant of the fact that your request is both unusual and presumptuous. Haven’t you anything else to say for yourself or anything to tempt me into a bargain with you? ”
Mr. Lacy glanced at Nora from the corner of his eye. “I wouldn’t dare ask for your help without offering something that might be of interest to you.”
“Oh?” The duke also looked at her.
Panic set in. “Father, no.” The words escaped in an earnest breath. She took her father’s hand and gave him a pleading look, but he wouldn’t meet her eye.
“Miss Lacy.” The duke addressed her for the first time. “I assure you, I will hear your perspective, but for now, I wish to hear your father’s proposal.”
Proposal. The word filled her with dread.
“My daughter,” her father began, looking steadfastly on the duke, “is a very well bred woman at the height of youth, beauty, and accomplishment.”
“Oh, Father,” she lamented under her breath, grateful he hadn’t mentioned anything about Saxon royalty thus far.
“She is clever and kind and possesses a wonderful disposition. I’m sure she will be able to produce children, Your Grace. An heir.” The emphasis he placed on the word made Nora squirm in her soggy boots. “Your legacy would be secure with her.”
The duke rubbed his jaw, making Nora feel utterly ridiculous for admiring it at the riverbank. “That is quite the claim, Mr. Lacy.”
“It certainly is,” she hissed in her father’s ear.
Her father flashed her an annoyed glare.
“I am aware , but can you blame a poor father for wanting the best for his beautiful daughter? I dare to speak openly on the subject because I am told Your Grace prefers his solitude but also needs a wife. I offer you a most convenient solution that speaks to both needs. Accept my offer, and you may protect your solitude and secure a bride, sprung from Saxon royalty, I might add, that would be the envy of any gentleman in England.”
There it was, that dreadful boast.
“Saxon royalty?” the duke scoffed. “The Saxons were defeated.”
“I remind him all the time,” Nora inserted, remembering how she had jested with him earlier. “He doesn’t seem to care.” Her face instantly burned.
Her comment earned a small smile. “Any father would praise his daughter if his goal was to marry her off to a wealthy duke.”
Nora repeated his words to herself and bit her lips.
This was no jest. She was officially mortified.
Her father may have been presumptuous, but she still wanted to tell the duke that she knew her worth, regardless of his wealth, and that her husband would be the envy of any gentleman in England.
She most certainly would have told him were it not for the relief she felt when he showed no interest in her father’s scheme.
The loss will be entirely his. But oh, how she wanted to sink into a chair and eat something hot.
“I promise, Your Grace,” her father spoke softly, “you will not be disappointed with Honora. Take the time to know her, and you will see her worth.” Her father’s face held a tenderness she hadn’t seen there since she was a very young girl.
The fire crackled. The duke stood perfectly still, then gave a slight nod.
“Very well. I accept.”