This summons to the family’s London residence must mean that the Earl had made one of his infrequent visits to the city, which he occasionally did to attend the Lords. Crispin had had no idea his father planned to come, but since avoiding his father was something of a mission with him, he wouldn’t have expected to.
What would the ever-disapproving Earl complain about this time?
A quick check of the mantel clock indicated it wasn’t yet late enough that he could use that excuse to put off the interview. Might as well go straight away, get the unpleasantness over with and hopefully find enough congenial company at his club afterwards to dissipate the bad feelings an interview with his sire always aroused.
Or perhaps he could call on Gregory afterwards, see if his friend would be able to spend the rest of the evening with him once his family dinner concluded.
His spirits rising at that prospect, Crispin paused long enough to have his valet brush his coat and give him a general inspection to ensure his attire was in perfect form—staving off having the interview begin with one of his father’s favourite sermons about his son not appearing in a style befitting his rank and breeding. Girding himself for the interview to come, he had Haines summon him a hackney.
* * *
His first surprise upon arriving at Portman Square was finding the knocker back on the door. Since Comeryn’s visits were usually short, he didn’t normally have the skeleton staff that manned the town house do more to accommodate his presence than remove the holland covers from his bedchamber, study and the small family dining room. His next surprise was having the door answered by Viscering, their butler, whom he would have expected to remain at Montwell Glen.
‘Good evening, my lord,’ the butler said, bowing him in. ‘You’ve been keeping well, I trust? Finding some exciting new ventures, I hope?’
‘I’m very well, thank you, Viscering,’ he replied, warmed by affection for the man who’d been a stalwart part of his life since he was a boy. ‘Always on the lookout for a new project. How are you?’
‘Tolerable, my lord. Lady Comeryn would like a word before you go in to see the Earl, who is in his study.’
‘Mother is here?’ Crispin said, shocked.
‘Yes, and your sister Lady Margaret as well.’
‘A shopping trip?’ Crispin guessed. Though his mother must have been unusually persuasive—or more likely, tearfully persistent—to induce his normally tight-fisted father to allow such a trip. Maybe he’d relented for her birthday—as well he ought, Crispin thought, the familiar feelings of resentment and simmering anger rising towards his imperious father and the autocratic, unbending rule he exercised over his wife and children.
After a slight pause, as if debating whether or not to say anything, Viscering said, ‘I believe the Earl intends to remain for the Season.’
That was so astounding, Crispin froze in the act of handing the butler his coat, hat and cane. ‘The Season? Are you sure?’
‘Most of the staff accompanied us, with those remaining ordered to close up the Glen, so I believe so. I thought you...might like to know.’
‘Thanks for the warning,’ Crispin said. ‘You’d better take me up to see Mama.’
Whatever was going on? he wondered as he followed the butler up to the small back sitting room that was his mother’s private retreat. He couldn’t think of a single reason why his father would ignore his oft-stated distaste for the city and gift the family with a trip to London for the whole Season, much as he knew his mother would be thrilled at the opportunity.
As he walked in, the Countess rose, her lovely face lighting with delight. ‘Crispin, my dearest!’ she exclaimed, rising to hug him tightly.
He hugged her back, both revelling in her affection and feeling guilty. The impossible position he occupied, acting since boyhood as sort of buffer between his father’s iron will and her gentleness, had never improved his mother’s circumstances more than temporarily. But though his mother had encouraged and supported his drive for independence, leaving Montwell Glen had left her without a protector.
Even if whatever protection he offered was always short-lived.
His long-smouldering anger redoubled at his father, who had married this beautiful, shy, soft-spoken lady for her substantial dowry and never appreciated her. Cowed and belittled by her husband, she had endured by showering her children with the affection her disdainful spouse spurned.
Would her life have been better if she’d stood up to him? Crispin wondered again. Or would that have only created more of the turmoil and distress that had driven him to flee the family home after university and return as seldom as possible? A pointless conjecture—his gentle mother didn’t have it in her to confront anyone.
‘How have you been keeping? Sorry it’s been so long since I’ve been home.’
She patted his hand. ‘Never mind about that. Knowing you are pursuing your own life without...interference, and happy doing so, is enough for me. Did your exploration trip go well?’
‘It did. Fine weather, enjoyable rides, and excellent hostelries along the way.’ He paused, tempted for a moment to tell her about meeting Miss Cranmore. But though he thought his mother would find his account of such an unusual girl amusing, mentioning the name of any single female might invite a discussion of marriage—something he knew his mother wanted for him—that he’d rather avoid.
Instead, he continued, ‘The Great Western venture poses greater risks than the previous schemes I’ve backed, but the concept is intriguing and the possibility for return could be enormous.’
‘So you’ve decided to invest.’
‘Yes. I spoke with the firm’s solicitor when I returned to London two weeks ago and arranged to purchase shares.’
He’d been excited to drop by Richard Cranmore’s office. But though he’d been impressed by its tasteful opulence and treated with dignified deference by the solicitor, the owner, Mr Cranmore, had been nowhere in evidence.
Nor, alas, had his daughter.
‘How are you getting on—and how is it that you look lovelier every time I see you?’ For truly, his mother did look more than usually radiant.
‘Thank you, kind sir!’ she said, her eyes taking on a sparkle. ‘It must be the excitement of being in London again. You know how much I love the city.’
‘Father should bring you more often,’ he said with some heat. ‘Are you really going to spend the whole Season?’
To his concern, the light in her eyes dimmed. Looking troubled, she said, ‘I’m afraid that depends...mostly on you.’
The feeling of trepidation that settled in his gut whenever he had to deal with his father intensified. ‘How could it depend on me?’
His mother sighed. ‘I’m only guessing, since as you know the Earl never informs me of anything and I might be quite wrong. You’ll be talking with him shortly anyway. I... I just ask that you not immediately refuse whatever it is he means to demand of you. For my sake? You know how...unpleasant he can be when he doesn’t get his way. He could well ship us back to Montwell Glen as unexpectedly as he packed us to come, and Maggie is so excited to be able to spend some time here! Even though she’s not old enough yet to attend society events, I can take her to meet the ladies whose approval she must have when she’s presented next year, we can visit the shops and the theatre and attend a few evening events. She’s been over the moon at the prospect! I’d like to keep your father in good humour long enough for her to sample at least some of that.’
‘And let you sample it, too. It’s been three years since you’ve been in London long enough to attend social events and catch up with all your friends.’
She smiled. ‘I’m not denying I’ll enjoy it as much as Maggie!’
The mantel clock bonged and her smile faded, a nervous look replacing it. ‘You’d better go see your father now. He’ll have been informed you’ve arrived, and you know he can�
�t tolerate being kept waiting.’
‘Yes, far be it for me to dally for a pleasant half-hour with my mother,’ he said acerbically.
‘You will be...patient?’
Reining in both his anger and rising sense of dread, he kissed her hand.
‘I’ll be...reasonable. If at all possible, I’ll do what he wants, if it means you and Maggie can enjoy the delights of London for an entire Season.’
‘You won’t let him set you off?’ The tears he so dreaded formed in the corners of her eyes. ‘You know how much it upsets me when he does,’ she ended on a whisper.
As much as his mother’s distress upset and angered him, he thought grimly, setting his jaw. Summoning up a smile, he said, ‘I shall display the patience of Job. But you’re right, I’d better go in before he can decide I’m tardy. No sense giving him a whip to whack me with before we even get started.’
‘Thank you, my darling,’ she said, rising to give him one last hug. ‘Having time here in London, seeing you, would be the best birthday gift I could receive.’
‘Don’t worry,’ he said, releasing her. ‘I’ll pacify the beast—for you.’
An uneasy mix of anger, resentment and apprehension roiling in his gut, Crispin paced out and headed for his father’s study.
After a knock at the door, his father’s voice bade him enter. Taking a deep breath, he walked in and made his father a bow. ‘You wished to see me, sir?’
The Earl gave him a silent, head-to-toe inspection, making him grateful for Haines’s diligence, before responding, ‘A more dutiful son might have added What do you wish me to do?’
Gritting his teeth, Crispin resisted responding that by now the Earl should know better than to expect him to live up to his father’s concept of ‘dutiful’. Mindful of his promise to his mother, he said nothing—which was a provocation in itself, but he couldn’t bring himself to utter something placating.
After a few minutes of silence, the Earl continued, ‘I imagine you didn’t expect to see me in London. I certainly wasn’t happy about having to come. Disappointing as your conduct often is, I’m certain that you understand you must eventually do your duty. Since I understand better than anyone how disagreeable that generally is, I’ve been indulgent enough to allow you to postpone it. But a situation, and an opportunity, has arisen that makes that indulgence no longer possible.’
‘My duty?’ Though, with a rising sense of distaste, he was pretty sure he knew what his father meant, he would have him spell it out. ‘Which duty would that be, sir?’
Since learning to run the estate, deal with tenants, and manage accounts are all ‘duties’ you’ve not allowed me to carry out.
‘Marriage, of course,’ Comeryn returned with a frown. ‘Which I’m sure you understood. Disappointing you may be, but you’re not a complete dolt.’
Keeping a tight hold on his temper, Crispin said evenly, ‘Why is it suddenly imperative that I perform that duty now?’
‘If you spent as much time concerned about agricultural matters as you do about vulgar commercial enterprises, you’d know that the price of crops and the value of land have steadily eroded since the wars ended. Diligent as I’ve been to avoid it, the estate’s agricultural income has gone down every year. Sooner or later, the estate will need a large infusion of cash—the sort of cash that can only be provided by a dowry as handsome as the one your mother brought. Which brings me to the opportunity I mentioned.’
The Earl paused, but Crispin knew better than to interrupt with a comment or question. That would only be tolerated once the Earl finished his speech and invited a response—or dismissed him.
‘An acquaintance—Lord Arlsley—tipped me off that his wife would be sponsoring a female with the most spectacular dowry society has seen in years. She’s not the sort of female I would normally countenance—her antecedents are in trade—but the grandfather for whom she is sole heiress was ennobled, which makes her at least tolerable. Arlsley assured me the chit is attractive enough and has been schooled so she won’t be an embarrassment. Though, once you’ve married her and bred some heirs on her, if you find her intolerable, you can always ship her off to the country, go about your business and conduct your discreet liaisons elsewhere. The upshot is, you need to cease gambolling about England and remain in London for the Season. Attend society events, meet the heiress, charm her and marry her. For the good of the family and the estate.’
Bad enough to have to wed to secure the succession. The idea of marrying money and then shunting his wife aside to dally with other women was truly disgusting. Though Crispin wasn’t surprised at the suggestion. He’d suspected for years that his father had kept a string of mistresses.
Stifling the immediate refusal he wanted to return, he said, ‘So who is this female?’
‘I don’t recall the name, not that it matters. Despite your dealings with railway commerce, it’s unlikely you would have encountered the grandfather, who I’m told is known as the “Factory King”. Made his blunt in the mining and weaving trade, got himself knighted in the bargain. Be assured, I don’t expect you to have any social dealings with him. I trust you’ll know how to depress his pretensions, if he should try to hang on your sleeve.’
Ignoring that, Crispin felt emboldened to ask the only thing that really interested him. ‘Just how badly dipped is the estate?’
As expected, his father immediately recoiled in anger. But, somewhat to Crispin’s surprise, the Earl didn’t direct at him a barrage of abuse for having the temerity to ask. ‘I had to borrow the last three years to put the crops in, plus make essential repairs, and the returns haven’t been good enough to repay any of the loans. The banker’s been recommending that I sell off some unentailed land, the impudent upstart! Then, with her presentation next year, there’s Lady Margaret’s dowry to be considered.’
Things must be worse than that if his father had chosen to disclose that information—probably with the intention of putting further pressure on Crispin to make the marriage his father wanted.
Concerned despite himself, he said, ‘I thought part of Mother’s settlement provided for Maggie’s dowry.’
‘The funds have been utilised...elsewhere,’ his father said cryptically.
The estate forced to sell off land—undervalued land, with the depression in agricultural prices. His sister, her dowry funds compromised.
‘If the estate is short of cash, I’ve built up a reserve—’
‘I’ll not take any money earned in trade!’ his father bellowed. ‘Don’t insult me by suggesting it. I know my duty as a gentleman, even if you seemed to have forgotten it.’
‘But you’d have me marry a tradesman’s heiress?’
‘That’s different, and you know it. He’s a baronet now, and marrying to secure a handsome dowry is a time-honoured way for a gentleman to raise the ready.’
Having nearly to bite his tongue to forestall replying that the difference between the two was so slight, it would take a magnifying glass to see it, Crispin took a long, slow breath.
He wouldn’t allow his sister to suffer for his father’s delicate ‘gentlemanly’ sensibilities. He’d make sure there was money for a dowry, whatever happened. As for the estate, that would require more finesse, since legally he couldn’t intervene in its running until he actually owned it. But if it proved necessary, he would figure out how to provide an infusion of funds for that, too—later.
For now, he just needed to honour his promise to his mother. ‘So I’m to meet, charm and marry this girl?’
The Earl nodded. ‘That’s the short of it.’
‘If she’s that well dowered, there will certainly be competition.’
‘Not many young, attractive suitors will possess the pedigree or the title you do. If you make half an effort, I believe you have a good chance of success. You owe it to your name and your inheritance.’
Crispin burned
to be able to tell his father what he could do with his sense of ‘duty’ to the name and title. But the image of his mother’s worried face stopped his tongue.
If he wanted to spare his mother and give her the pleasure of spending the Season in London, a reward she richly deserved for enduring her bitter sham of a marriage, he couldn’t defy his father outright. If he agreed to participate in society, she would have time to enjoy the city.
Otherwise, his refusal would likely set off a tirade that would unnerve his mother, sister, and everyone in the household, after which his father would pack them all up and drag them back to Montwell Glen.
He could tolerate it, he decided. At least until his father called his bluff, demanding that he marry either the heiress chit, or if he failed to impress her, some other well-dowered female, at which time he’d be forced to refuse.
It was the only birthday present his mother wanted. How could he disappoint her?
‘If I agree, you’ll allow Mother and Lady Margaret to remain in London for the Season?’
His father shrugged. ‘I’d rather avoid the expense of maintaining them here. But you will have a better chance of success if the Countess is in London, able to access that circle of females who run society in order to secure introductions and invitations to parties at which the Heiress is going to be present.’
‘And if I don’t succeed in winning the chit’s “affections”?’ he asked, hardly able to keep the irony from his voice.
‘See that you do. Or failing that, win the hand of some other female with sufficient dowry.’ The Earl glanced down at his desk. ‘The Sutterlings’ ball is in three days. You’ll arrange to be present. You’ve disappointed me many times. Don’t fail me in this. That is all,’ the Earl concluded, waving towards the door to signal the interview was over.
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