In the Brief Eternal Silence by Rebecca Melvin

hooves, “I hope you're wrong, milord. T'is possible, you
know, that t'fiend is dead, and that is why everything we have
tried t'learn his identity has come t'naught.”
    “It is possible,” his lordship said, “that he
is dead. It has been twenty-three years. But I can't believe that
after all we have done, that we would not find some trace of him.
No, Tyler. I think whoever we seek is alive and well and continues
to make sure that we find no clue to his identity.”
    “But, to marry. Forgive me, milord, but that
implies. . .”
    “I know what it implies. I've always been
reluctant to look in that direction, but I have hit so many dead
ends that I am left with no option, God help me. I pray that I hit
another dead end with this, but God help whoever it is if I do
not.”
    They drove on in silence for another mile,
only the Squire's snoring interrupting them, before Tyler broke the
quiet by saying, “Your grandmother will be happy, I dare say,
milord. If you are serious.”
    “I'm serious. And I expect you're right. She
will be happy. But she can't know the reason for this marriage,
Tyler. Not that I couldn't trust her to play the game to perfection
if I were to ask her to do so, but for obvious reasons, it would
hurt her too much if she knew what I was really about. No. She must
think I came down here, met this Miss Murdock, and fell madly in
love with her. And if there is a guilty party among those I hold
closest to us, they must believe the same. Only if they believe it
is a natural and unplanned occurrence will they mayhaps slip off
their guard and, hopefully, make a rash move.”
    “They may very well make an attempt on your
life, milord.”
    St. James gave him a single glance from
drunken gold eyes. “I certainly hope they shall, otherwise this is
all so much waste.” He turned back to his driving. “Now, we shall
collect my future wife, and we shall see if this last ploy puts the
proper pressure on the proper person.” St. James shook off a sudden
weariness that came across him. “Damn me to hell for drinking so
much,” he muttered. “I am so foggy I am not the least bit sure how
to go about this. I would have done myself a good deal better if I
had allowed myself to retain a clear head.”
    “Aye, milord. Expect no sympathy from me.
I've told you many a time before that no one need make a move on
you for they merely need to sit back and wait for you to do
yourself in. If not from the drinking, then from the dueling. And
if not from the dueling, then from the womanizing. You'll get a pox
one of these days, of that I am certain. And if not from that, then
from your trips to the sorry side of town. I know you have your
reasons, but you must have a care, milord.”
    “There will be no care in me until I have put
an end to this. I dare not even try to live until I am assured that
the culprit is dead, and by my hand! And you, of all people, should
know that every stunt I've ever pulled was in the pursuit of
finding that knave. So let me hear no more of care and caution from
you. For if I do stir them from their hiding place with this
marriage, then the last thing I need to be feeling is some fear for
my life, for if I am afraid, he has won already, for it will keep
me from doing what musts be done with the single determination that
I have always pursued it.”
    “That, I suppose, is why you have chosen a
lass you do not know and do not care for?”
    “Precisely, Tyler. I can not go into marriage
believing I am building something for the future, for it may very
well be a future that I will never see. And I don't wish to leave a
grieving widow in my wake, in any event. Someone with a good head
on her shoulders, who can care for my estates and my child, if we
are lucky enough for her to conceive before I am killed.”
    “And if you are not killed, but succeed?”
    “Then I will make do with whatever pathetic
lot I have saddled myself with, and count myself fortunate.” He
pulled up on the horses, and they