single hand, Danby continued with, “But—”
Wesley’s heart crashed down to somewhere in the general vicinity of the castle’s dungeons. But?
“ But,” Danby continued, drawing the words out exceedingly slowly, “I make you no promises beyond that. Goddard may convince me he is my son, or he may not. This Abby of yours may convince me I should acknowledge her as my granddaughter, but she may not.” The duke resumed his seat behind his desk and opened a lower drawer to pull out a stack of parchment. He shuffled through them, as though searching for something in particular. “If this all goes the way you wish it to, we’ll consider my acknowledgement of her status as my Christmas gift to you, shall we?”
A Christmas gift? Beelzebub’s breeches, he hadn’t come here expecting a damned thing from Danby. Without a clue what else to do, Wesley nodded.
“ Excellent. As a return gift to me, if such a thing comes to pass—” he broke off as he found the paper he’d been searching for, a wide grin taking over his countenance and a twinkle flashing in his eyes— “you’ll marry Abby here at Danby Castle as soon as it can be arranged.”
“ Of course,” Wesley stammered. He didn’t particularly care where they married…and Abby should be satisfied as long as her family was present. He doubted she would take exception to such an understanding.
Danby reached over and tugged on the bell pull, and moments later the butler popped into the room. “Milne, would you please show the Goddard family in? I’d like to see them now.”
“ Of course, Your Grace.” The butler inclined his head and started to back away, but came up short when Danby motioned to him, then lifted the parchment he’d been searching for into the air. At that, he moved forwards into the room, bent low over the duke, and waited as Danby issued him whispered instructions.
After a moment, he straightened again. Taking the slip of parchment from the duke’s hand, he nodded and said, “Right away, Your Grace.” Then he left them.
Wesley had watched the entire exchange without the slightest clue what it had been about. His curiosity was about to rip him apart from the inside, but if Danby had wanted him to know, surely he would have informed him.
Still the stack of papers remained on top of the desk, and the duke had stood to pour himself a brandy at the sideboard while they waited. Inching as cautiously as he could over to get a better view, Wesley strained his neck and squinted.
He shook his head, sure he had it wrong.
The page on the top of the stack was a special license for marriage, already signed by the Archbishop of Canterbury, with Lady Isabel Whitton named as one of the two parties involved, and the other spot left blank.
What in blazes had he and the Goddards just interrupted? And, perhaps more importantly, what in God’s good name was on that slip of parchment the butler had just taken off with?
6
Their footsteps echoed on the marble floors as Milne guided them all through the corridors of Danby Castle, leading them to the duke’s study. Abby supposed she should be thankful that she wouldn’t face the man alone. At least not yet. Quite likely, at some point, he’d request a private interview with her. If, of course, he intended to settle a dowry upon her as Father thought he ought to do.
It was anyone’s guess how Father believed such a thing might come to pass, though.
Still, it should all come to an end before too much longer, and then they could return to Henley Green and real life, and forget this had ever happened. Abby certainly intended to do her best to forget—and to forget Wesley Cavendish right along with this farcical journey.
As soon as her heart stopped bleeding.
After what felt like half a mile or more, Milne stopped before a massive oak door, and two footmen outfitted in the finest livery Abby had ever laid eyes upon pushed them open. “The Goddard family, Your Grace.”
Seated behind a
Wesley’s heart crashed down to somewhere in the general vicinity of the castle’s dungeons. But?
“ But,” Danby continued, drawing the words out exceedingly slowly, “I make you no promises beyond that. Goddard may convince me he is my son, or he may not. This Abby of yours may convince me I should acknowledge her as my granddaughter, but she may not.” The duke resumed his seat behind his desk and opened a lower drawer to pull out a stack of parchment. He shuffled through them, as though searching for something in particular. “If this all goes the way you wish it to, we’ll consider my acknowledgement of her status as my Christmas gift to you, shall we?”
A Christmas gift? Beelzebub’s breeches, he hadn’t come here expecting a damned thing from Danby. Without a clue what else to do, Wesley nodded.
“ Excellent. As a return gift to me, if such a thing comes to pass—” he broke off as he found the paper he’d been searching for, a wide grin taking over his countenance and a twinkle flashing in his eyes— “you’ll marry Abby here at Danby Castle as soon as it can be arranged.”
“ Of course,” Wesley stammered. He didn’t particularly care where they married…and Abby should be satisfied as long as her family was present. He doubted she would take exception to such an understanding.
Danby reached over and tugged on the bell pull, and moments later the butler popped into the room. “Milne, would you please show the Goddard family in? I’d like to see them now.”
“ Of course, Your Grace.” The butler inclined his head and started to back away, but came up short when Danby motioned to him, then lifted the parchment he’d been searching for into the air. At that, he moved forwards into the room, bent low over the duke, and waited as Danby issued him whispered instructions.
After a moment, he straightened again. Taking the slip of parchment from the duke’s hand, he nodded and said, “Right away, Your Grace.” Then he left them.
Wesley had watched the entire exchange without the slightest clue what it had been about. His curiosity was about to rip him apart from the inside, but if Danby had wanted him to know, surely he would have informed him.
Still the stack of papers remained on top of the desk, and the duke had stood to pour himself a brandy at the sideboard while they waited. Inching as cautiously as he could over to get a better view, Wesley strained his neck and squinted.
He shook his head, sure he had it wrong.
The page on the top of the stack was a special license for marriage, already signed by the Archbishop of Canterbury, with Lady Isabel Whitton named as one of the two parties involved, and the other spot left blank.
What in blazes had he and the Goddards just interrupted? And, perhaps more importantly, what in God’s good name was on that slip of parchment the butler had just taken off with?
6
Their footsteps echoed on the marble floors as Milne guided them all through the corridors of Danby Castle, leading them to the duke’s study. Abby supposed she should be thankful that she wouldn’t face the man alone. At least not yet. Quite likely, at some point, he’d request a private interview with her. If, of course, he intended to settle a dowry upon her as Father thought he ought to do.
It was anyone’s guess how Father believed such a thing might come to pass, though.
Still, it should all come to an end before too much longer, and then they could return to Henley Green and real life, and forget this had ever happened. Abby certainly intended to do her best to forget—and to forget Wesley Cavendish right along with this farcical journey.
As soon as her heart stopped bleeding.
After what felt like half a mile or more, Milne stopped before a massive oak door, and two footmen outfitted in the finest livery Abby had ever laid eyes upon pushed them open. “The Goddard family, Your Grace.”
Seated behind a
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