Chapter 2

Ramsgate House, October 1817

Sebastian shifted the knot in his silk cravat and breathed out a long sigh. He was standing in the corner of his father's study in Ramsgate House, London, and he felt wretchedly uncomfortable—his jacket felt too tight, his knee-breeches cutting into his calves. The room felt overly warm, despite the brisk wind and the clouds that drifted overhead outside.

"I can't, Papa. I just can't do it. It's going to be horridly tiresome, and I don't want to spend my life trying to hide my anger."

"Son..." Papa frowned, his face a picture of distress. "I told you. I am not asking you to do this, I need you to. We made an agreement. At least meet the lady."

"You did agree to giving me a whole year," Sebastian argued. "And it's eleven months. I still have a month to find a lady of my own choice."

"Son...it's not as though anyone has seen you trying to do that." His voice was not angry—if anything, it was mild and a little upset. Sebastian's stomach twisted. He could meet anger with anger, but that defeated look in his father's eyes was something he couldn't bear to see. Since Mama's passing when he was just a few days old, it seemed as though he and Papa had relied on each other more and more for support until he was as responsible for the older man as Papa was for him.

"I know. I know lots of ladies, Papa, if it helps." He smiled, wanting to make his father chuckle. His father just looked downcast.

"I know, son. And that's just the trouble."

Sebastian sighed. "Very well. But Papa...cannot you give me another week, at least? I like not the sound of this plan of yours."

His father blinked. "I've hardly told you anything, son."

"You told me exactly two facts," Sebastian countered. "You said that you have found a lady that you want me to meet, and that she is the daughter of an acquaintance of yours. Neither fact gives me the slightest assurance of liking the lady. In fact, I strongly suspect that she will be a tiresome socialite and I will spend the evening trying not to upset anyone. I don't want to do that."

His father smiled a little sadly. "She is no tiresome socialite, son. I know how you feel on such matters. I wish for you to find a strong, respectable lady."

"I'm not sure that sounds any more encouraging," Sebastian replied jokingly. In truth, he was a little curious. Who was it that his father had found? The daughters of Papa's acquaintances were all already known to Sebastian, and he had not yet met one with whom he even felt comfortable talking for very long.

"Son..." His father looked at him with a look of immense tiredness. Sebastian stood straight and tried to be humbler. His father really was serious about this. "Son...I am not well. I'm not long for this world."

"Papa, please don't say that," Sebastian began, but his father shook his head.

"I need to. It's a fact. My gout plagues me, my heart is not strong. My physician tells me I need to walk more, but what good is that, when my knee aches?" he shook his head, anger tight in his voice. "I have not too many years left, and I wish to see a grandson. A grandchild. Just one. Mayhap one will be all there is." He trailed off sadly.

"You mean, because of the curse?" Sebastian said tightly. "Papa...please tell me you don't really believe Aunt Tessa. Do you?" His stomach twisted uncomfortably. He hated it when his father talked about that subject.

His father fixedSebastian with a hard stare. "Son...I know only two things," he began. "Firstly, that my own mother labored hard and long to bring me into the world, and I was her only living child. She and my father conceived many times, but I was the only surviving son. And your mother and I likewise. She died bringing you into this world," he began, and Sebastian stiffened.

"I know, Papa," he said firmly. The guilt he felt whenever Papa said that, when his tear-stained eyes fixed on Sebastian, was more than he could bear on top of the news his father had already brought to him.

"I know you do, son," his father said gently. "But the fact is, I cannot entirely rest easy dismissing Tessa's words. Whatever the cause, curse or not, our family does not have many children. That is true. Curse or no; I am not qualified to say. I just know that I do not expect to have many grandchildren, and I would like to see my heir before I pass on. For this reason, I wish for you at least to meet this lady. I don't ask more of you."

Sebastian sighed. "If you say it in such a way, Papa, nobody could refuse you." He took a deep breath, guilt twisting in his heart. He could not refuse his father—not when he raised the topic of his own death, which pained Sebastian greatly whenever he had to think of it.

"You will see her?" The hopeful tone in his father's voice twisted his heart.

"Yes, Papa. I will see her. But I must ask you first, at least to tell me something about her. I know so little." He was surprised to feel a twist of curiosity in his heart. He wanted to know everything he could.

His father sighed. "I have told you what little I know. I have met the young lady twice and thought her charming on both occasions. She is the daughter of a notable industrialist," he added.

"So she is silly, spoiled and interested in chasing after a title?"

"No, son." His father interrupted firmly. "It's cruel to dismiss all daughters of industrialists like that. You don't know all of them. Besides," he added, gently, "she is not like that. She seems very sensible and strong."

"And you talked to her a great deal?" Sebastian inquired seriously.

"No, son. Not long. I exchanged but a few sentences, I admit. She and her brother were visiting her father's offices. Her brother is a well-respected accountant. He worked first for the firm his father created and then began advising the wealthy as to their investments. They are a hardworking and well-reputed family." He sniffed a little hard.

"And this respectable industrialist wishes me to wed his daughter?" Sebastian raised a brow. "You're certain of that?"

"Son, you are descended of nobility," his father began slowly, but Sebastian interrupted.

"Yes, and I have a reputation that would make a demon blush."

"Son, don't be unfair to yourself," his father began, but Sebastian laughed.

"It's true. I know, Papa. I accept it." His voice was bitter. Only half the things people said about him were true, and then it was the milder half. He might have friends from the strangest professions and throw wild parties, but mostly the fun was innocent and harmless.

All the same, it was impossible to imagine a pious, hardworking family like the family that his father described, wanting him to be associated with them.

"Son...it's not simple," his father said slowly.

"It seems perfectly simple to me," Sebastian interrupted, annoyed.

"No," his father said firmly. "It is rather more intricate than you think. You see, after his son got himself into a spot of trouble, Mr. Montague owes me a favour."

Sebastian gaped at him. "You mean, the favour is about me meeting his daughter? Father, what exactly have you done?" It was his turn to be shocked.

"Nothing. Nothing," his father insisted, frowning as if the sound of raised voices pained his ears. "Nothing bad. Something rather beneficial, as it happens. I merely wish it to be equally beneficial to ourselves. Is that bad?" He frowned, the question sounding as though he meant it.

Sebastian sighed. "You would ask me? The man with the terrible reputation?" He shook his head, but the look on his father's face made him more serious. "Very well. I will meet this woman, as you wish it so dearly. But I cannot promise more than that. Is that what you wish me to do?"

His father beamed. "Yes. I will go and order the carriage. We will take tea with them tomorrow afternoon."