Call Down the Moon by Katherine Kingsley Page B

Thank you for seeing me so readily.”
    “Not at all. What may I do for you, my lord?” Mr. Gostrain asked pleasantly, gesturing at the chair on the other side of the desk.
    Hugo took a seat. “I am thinking about marrying,” he said. “I wish to know the formalities behind drawing up a marriage contract, and how soon such a contract can be pushed through. There is a sizable dowry involved, you understand. I do not want legalities to be a cause for unnecessary delay.”
    Mr. Gostrain, a man in his early sixties with thinning gray hair and a sharp nose, had negotiated many a tricky deal over the years. He allowed himself a long look at Hugo. “I gather you have a reason to marry in haste?” he said, tapping the tips of his fingers together.
    “I do, although not for any reason other than if I lose my nerve, I most likely won’t marry at all. Therefore I desire to understand the underpinnings of such a binding contract.”
    Mr. Gostrain nodded. “It is wise to be thorough before the fact, if you will allow me to say, Lord Hugo.”
    “I couldn’t agree with you more,” Hugo said, wishing that Gostrain would get on with the matter. Hugo’s entire life hung in the balance.
    Mr. Gostrain tapped his fingertips together again, an annoying habit that Hugo wished would cease. “May I ask if you have approached the lady in question with a proposal of marriage?” Mr. Gostrain said.
    “No … I thought it best to wait until I understood all of the ramifications.” The only ramification Hugo really cared about was getting money back into his pockets as soon as possible, but he wasn’t about to explain that to Gostrain.
    “Ah, well. A marriage settlement is not as complicated as you might imagine, my lord. Generally speaking, the matter is conducted between the two families and afterward, their solicitors. Your obligation is to inform the parents of the young lady of exactly what your circumstances are, and their obligation is to inform you of the degree of her fortune, which will become yours upon marriage.”
    “All of it?” Hugo said, determined there should be no mistake.
    “All of it, save for any separate property her parents might wish to set up in trust for her that would remain under a trustee’s control. This, however, is not a common practice.”
    “I see,” Hugo said, relieved to hear it. He didn’t want anyone in control of her money but him. He’d really have to insist on that if the subject came up.
    Gostrain cleared his throat. “As you are a younger son, there is no line of succession involved. Your wife will of course share your courtesy title, but her parents will naturally be concerned about your ability to support their daughter in suitable style. You must keep in mind your future wife’s right of dower upon your death, should you predecease her. That would be something approximating one third of your income, providing you do not establish a jointure for her in the premarital contract.”
    “Oh,” Hugo said, thoroughly bored. He tuned Gostrain out as the man droned on, not interested in the distant future. He realized he would have to lie through his teeth to convince Amelia Langford’s parents that Lyden Hall still belonged to him and that he also still had substantial funds.
    “… Now. As to children. The marriage contract will specify what their portions will be.”
    Children? Over his dead body. Yet he would be expected to share her bed and carry out his husbandly duties. Oh, God. The very idea of marriage to Amelia made him feel ill. The more Gostrain carried on about the binding legalities involved, the more panicked he became about being condemned for life to someone he already detested and found physically revolting.
    Hugo was sure he must have turned a sickly shade of green, for Gostrain suddenly stopped mid-speech. But he said only, “If you will excuse me for a moment, Lord Hugo, I see Mr. Jenkins beckoning me. This should only take a moment.”
    He rose and left his desk,