“You have known them since they were little children,” Martin pressed, “do you truly believe they are capable of such underhandedness?”
“There is nothing wrong with what they have done for themselves, especially since they didn’t have parents to help with their advancement in Society.”
“You are wrong about them.”
“It matters not,” his father replied. “I am much more concerned about you and your future.”
“Delightful,” Martin muttered.
His father frowned. “You will one day become the Marquess of Darby, and you will be expected to take your seat in the House of Lords.”
“I am well aware of what is expected of me,” Martin said as he tightened his hand on his glass.
“Are you?”
“Have I not taken over the managing of the properties and investments to your liking?”
Waving his hand in front of him, his father remarked, “You haven’t been completely incompetent at that.”
“Thank you for the vote of confidence.” Martin took a sip of his drink.
“I am merely stating that you have a legacy that you must protect.”
Martin put his glass down on the drink cart. “I am well aware, and it is not something I take lightly.”
“I should say so.” His father glanced at the door before he lowered his voice. “I have decided that I will arrange a marriage for Marianne.”
Martin’s brow lifted at the unexpected news. “You cannot be in earnest?” he asked. “She is not even out of mourning.”
“She is a hellion,” his father countered, “and hasn’t even considered matrimony.”
“You must give her some time. After all, she is only nineteen.”
“Your mother was eighteen when she married me.”
Martin shook his head. “I believe this to be a terrible idea,” he argued. “Marianne will be furious when she discovers that you intend to arrange a marriage for her.”
“It is in her best interest.”
“Is it?”
His father had a puzzled look on his face. “Why do you say that?” he asked. “Marriage brings security. Every woman wishes to have that.”
“How would you know what she wants?” he questioned. “You’ve hardly spent any time with Marianne since Phoebe died.”
His father visibly stiffened. “That is terribly unfair of you to say.”
“I am merely stating the truth.”
“Phoebe knew her duty,” his father spat out. “Had it not been for the accident, she would have been a countess.”
“Marianne knows her duty, as well.”
His father huffed. “I think not,” he replied. “She would rather be riding her horse around our country estate than attend a social event.”
“Father—”
He was cut off. “I tire of this conversation.” His father gulped down the rest of his drink and placed his glass on a table. “I have already made my decision.”
“Will you not at least discuss it with Marianne?”
“What good would that do?”
Martin walked over to the window and looked out at the well-maintained gardens. “You are making a mistake in doing this.”
“Duly noted.” His father walked over to the door and stopped. “I want you to know that I take no pleasure in arranging a marriage for Marianne, but I do not wish her to carry on as she has been.”
“Marianne will fight you on this.”
“Maybe at first, but I do believe she will see the merits behind it.”
Martin turned to meet his father’s gaze. “And if you are wrong?”
His father tugged down on his ivory waistcoat. “I am rarely wrong, on anything,” he declared before exiting the study.
With a shake of his head, Martin sat down at his desk. He might at least attempt to get some work done.
He had just opened the ledger when he heard his sister’s voice from the doorway. “Why would Father be so cold and unfeeling as to arrange a marriage for me?”
Martin glanced up and saw Marianne step into the room. “You heard that?”
“I may have been eavesdropping,” she replied, unabashed.
“I should have known,” he said. “You have done so since you were a little girl.”
Marianne came to a stop next to the desk. “I hadn’t intended to eavesdrop, but I overheard Father saying my name.” She pressed her lips into a tight line. “I refuse to marry a man of Father’s choosing.”
“I do not fault you for that,” he replied. “It might be best if you let your feelings be known on the matter.”
“That won’t make a difference; not when he has set his mind to something.”
“Don’t fret,” he encouraged. “I will speak to him again. Perhaps next time he will be more reasonable.”
Marianne didn’t look convinced. “Father has only ever considered me a burden. I believe it gives him great joy to marry me off and finally be rid of me.”
“That isn’t true,” he argued.
“He has hardly given me any notice since Phoebe died.”
Martin leaned back in his chair. “Father changed that day,” he said. “He took her death hard, and I’m afraid he has yet to recover.”
“That is hardly an excuse for the way he has treated me,” she argued. “I was just a child when Phoebe died, and I lost both of them that day.”
“You still have me.”
“Thank heavens for that,” she replied. “I don’t think I could abide living in this home without you.”
“I have no doubt you would do so splendidly.”
Marianne smiled. “You give me entirely too much credit, dear brother.”
A knock came at the door and Moreland stepped into the study. “Miss Blackmore is here to see you, milady.”
“Thank you,” Marianne replied. “Will you show her to the drawing room and inform her that I will be there shortly?”
Moreland tipped his head before departing.
Marianne returned her gaze to meet his. “Perhaps I shall ask Hannah to find me a suitor and run off to Gretna Green.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
She blew out a puff of air. “You’re right, of course,” she replied. “Even I’m not that brazen.”
“It will all work out for the best.”
“At least Father gave you a month to find your own bride,” she said. “I doubt he would be as considerate to me.”
“We still have time to persuade Father, since you are still in mourning and an engagement at this time would be entirely inappropriate.”
“I hope you are right about that.”
He gave her an
