settling into his favorite, overstuffed chair. He
motioned for Leeraby to retake his seat.
“I do. I think you will be quite pleased, indeed,” replied
Leeraby as he sat and slid papers from a leather case. “I’ve gained the
conditions your father set for you to receive a goodly portion of your
allowance.”
A goodly portion? thought Christian. He’d been under
the impression he would regain all of his allowance with an increase when he
reached twenty-six.
Leeraby dropped the papers onto the desk in front of
Christian. “Your parents are quite keen on seeing their grandchildren. So to motivate
you to hurry things along, they would like you to marry, at which point, you
will receive the considerable sum that is noted here.” He tapped his index
finger on the amount scripted on the bottom of the first page. “Then when you
beget an heir, you will receive the increase.”
Christian couldn’t get his brain to un-seize. Yes, he had
wanted to marry, but now, with her , he wasn’t so fond of the idea.
“Married? Please tell me you’re joking. I have not been courting anyone as of
late. It will take time for me to find,” he paused, “a suitable wife. And I’m
in need of the funds now.”
It was as if he’d said absolutely nothing. “Oh, and before I
forget, your mother sent along some invitations to the upcoming balls.” Which
Leeraby deposited next to the paperwork. “There are many fine young ladies
coming out for the Season. I hear the prospects are absolutely delightful for
the new countess.”
“You look like a fish with your mouth gaping like that, my
lord,” Jackson said.
Christian snapped his lips together. But he couldn’t stop
the images of her from consuming him. The very thought of marriage
brought her to the forefront, and he couldn’t picture himself with anyone else.
Certainly not one of the snotty little chits that he’d met the last time he
waded through the haute ton.
Yet…the lovely ghost was not truly available. His eyes
landed on the pile of invitations and he knew that a sneer of disgust had taken
to his mouth with simply the thought of attending those soirées.
He launched from his chair and began an angry path to the
window. One fist landed on the frame as he looked out onto the landscape. How
could his parents do this to him? They knew he was in need, that he didn’t have
the funds necessary to run Krestly Castle. And now this! This foul manipulation
of his rights! It was likely another one of his father’s tests, meant to
distress him, and force him to prove himself. Blast that man!
“Well, I see you’re feeling overwhelmed. I will be on my
way,” Leeraby said, as he gave Christian a hardy pat on the back and then his
footfalls were heard retreating to the door.
“I’ll see you out, Mr. Leeraby,” said Jackson.
When Jackson returned, Christian listened to the old man
sift through the invitations. He didn’t look up until the man said, “Ah, there
is to be a ball at the Brenton’s Manor. That should be a lovely evening.”
Christian couldn’t hold back his irritation with this
injustice any longer. “I could never be so cruel! Do you not see what this
means?”
“This means you will have the funds you need, and please
your parents with an heir.”
“No, it quite simply does not! She’ll be forced to witness
all of the things she cannot have. Jackson, she’ll be devastated. I can’t do
that to her.”
“Perhaps we could help send her to Heaven—”
“No, Jackson!” Christian left the window, stomped back to
the desk, and while emitting a low growl, shot out his hand and knocked the
colorful missives to the floor. He didn’t want her to leave, but said,
“She is trapped here, she cannot move on. I believe she would have gone to
Heaven by now if she could have. She is not a haunted soul. I do not know what
keeps her here.”
“But you must try—”
“Stop!”
“I’m sorry, Chris, but this is what’s best for you. You must
find a bride to
motioned for Leeraby to retake his seat.
“I do. I think you will be quite pleased, indeed,” replied
Leeraby as he sat and slid papers from a leather case. “I’ve gained the
conditions your father set for you to receive a goodly portion of your
allowance.”
A goodly portion? thought Christian. He’d been under
the impression he would regain all of his allowance with an increase when he
reached twenty-six.
Leeraby dropped the papers onto the desk in front of
Christian. “Your parents are quite keen on seeing their grandchildren. So to motivate
you to hurry things along, they would like you to marry, at which point, you
will receive the considerable sum that is noted here.” He tapped his index
finger on the amount scripted on the bottom of the first page. “Then when you
beget an heir, you will receive the increase.”
Christian couldn’t get his brain to un-seize. Yes, he had
wanted to marry, but now, with her , he wasn’t so fond of the idea.
“Married? Please tell me you’re joking. I have not been courting anyone as of
late. It will take time for me to find,” he paused, “a suitable wife. And I’m
in need of the funds now.”
It was as if he’d said absolutely nothing. “Oh, and before I
forget, your mother sent along some invitations to the upcoming balls.” Which
Leeraby deposited next to the paperwork. “There are many fine young ladies
coming out for the Season. I hear the prospects are absolutely delightful for
the new countess.”
“You look like a fish with your mouth gaping like that, my
lord,” Jackson said.
Christian snapped his lips together. But he couldn’t stop
the images of her from consuming him. The very thought of marriage
brought her to the forefront, and he couldn’t picture himself with anyone else.
Certainly not one of the snotty little chits that he’d met the last time he
waded through the haute ton.
Yet…the lovely ghost was not truly available. His eyes
landed on the pile of invitations and he knew that a sneer of disgust had taken
to his mouth with simply the thought of attending those soirées.
He launched from his chair and began an angry path to the
window. One fist landed on the frame as he looked out onto the landscape. How
could his parents do this to him? They knew he was in need, that he didn’t have
the funds necessary to run Krestly Castle. And now this! This foul manipulation
of his rights! It was likely another one of his father’s tests, meant to
distress him, and force him to prove himself. Blast that man!
“Well, I see you’re feeling overwhelmed. I will be on my
way,” Leeraby said, as he gave Christian a hardy pat on the back and then his
footfalls were heard retreating to the door.
“I’ll see you out, Mr. Leeraby,” said Jackson.
When Jackson returned, Christian listened to the old man
sift through the invitations. He didn’t look up until the man said, “Ah, there
is to be a ball at the Brenton’s Manor. That should be a lovely evening.”
Christian couldn’t hold back his irritation with this
injustice any longer. “I could never be so cruel! Do you not see what this
means?”
“This means you will have the funds you need, and please
your parents with an heir.”
“No, it quite simply does not! She’ll be forced to witness
all of the things she cannot have. Jackson, she’ll be devastated. I can’t do
that to her.”
“Perhaps we could help send her to Heaven—”
“No, Jackson!” Christian left the window, stomped back to
the desk, and while emitting a low growl, shot out his hand and knocked the
colorful missives to the floor. He didn’t want her to leave, but said,
“She is trapped here, she cannot move on. I believe she would have gone to
Heaven by now if she could have. She is not a haunted soul. I do not know what
keeps her here.”
“But you must try—”
“Stop!”
“I’m sorry, Chris, but this is what’s best for you. You must
find a bride to
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