Time to get used to following orders.
“I would like to negotiate.”
“This ought to be entertaining.” Lord Bolderwood scoffed. “Proceed.”
Seth took a deep breath, and as stoically as he could manage, he said, “Whatever job you have for me, create a new position for Viscount Lincolnshire. Something befitting his station.Respectable. You offered to settle his accounts, pay him enough that he can settle them on his own. Match my salary to that.”
“Are you here to bargain for Viscount Lincolnshire, or yourself?”
“Both. We’re partners.” Seth continued, “If I’m to work in London,I’ll need a house in Mayfair. Furnished. Fully staffed.”
“I suppose you’ll want a six horse carriage next.”
“Four is acceptable.” Having wealth meant nothing if a person didn’t flaunt it. “And you’ll invite the Coopers to every society event you host and attend.”
“Host,” Lord Bolderwood allowed. “I have no control over the rest of the peerage.”
“Yes, you do. You said Cassandra would want for nothing. I won’t have doors slammed in her face. Make it happen.”
Cassandra. He had been harsh with her, rushed her—pressuredher. And his love confession? What in the devil was he thinking? She didn’t need to love him now, but if she could onlywaitfor him. Given time, he could earn her forgiveness, earn her love, and not demand it during the worst possible time.
The hardest part was that she was right. He had nothing to offer her. She needed someone wealthy, but wealth was only part of the problem. Seth would never carry a title. Never be a peer. Legacy was a slow-road. He couldn’t change any of that, but there was one thing within his control. One quality that could change her mind. One word that stood in the way of marrying the woman he loved. He had to become what she needed, what he never wanted to be.
A gentleman.
“And lastly, I want you to recognize me as your son,” Seth said. “You’ll favor me.Publicly.”
Lord Bolderwood narrowed his eyes. “Bold.”
“Nonnegotiable.”
While not a gentleman by birth, marrying a wealthy,favoredbastard was leagues above being a colonel’s mistress. There would be the initial scandal, of course, but their reputations could recover with Lady Dorchester’s influence.
“Public recognition, not legal. Adrian is my heir,” LordBolderwood said, surprising Seth with his swiftness. “What do I get in exchange for these extravagances and the fallout from such a claim?”
“What you’ve always wanted.” Seth swallowed, the words thick in his throat. “Me.Obedient.”
“In writing.” Lord Bolderwood’s hard eyes honed in on Seth’s. “You’ll sign an open-ended contract with me personally, onmyterms, to be terminated at my discretion.” The older man’s expression was dark and demanding, his tone firm. “When I summon you, you answer.Nonnegotiable.”
Under Lord Bolderwood’s shadow, he felt how he had as a child. Helpless. Powerless. Small. The chains around him tightened, smothering any hope of true freedom. The shackles welded shut as he said the only words that Lord Bolderwood would want to hear from now on.
“Yes, my lord.”
***
Her belongings were packed. The sun had set. Dinner had passed, but she hadn’t gone. The thought of eating turned her stomach, and no one would have expected her there, anyway. She would say goodbye to the Dorchesters in the morning, if she had time. She couldn’t bear another drawn out conversation filled with tears, nor their well-meaning sympathy.
Music drifted through the halls from the closing ceremony, a lively tune in contrast with the soul-crushing despair in her heart.
I wonder who won.
Not that it mattered.
Laying in a feather bed, Cassandra stared up to a canopy with no embroidered flowers to count. Even if there were, she wouldn’t be able to see them through the pure darkness closing her in. She turned onto her side and hugged her pillow. The scent of Seth’s hair clung to the pillowcase, and she longed to hold him.
She had made such a mess of things. Matthew was furious with her, and he had every right to be. Seth, too. She hadliedto him. But what was she to say? They couldn’t be together, and that hurt worse than her brother’s coldness, a lingering pain that she would carry with her for the rest of her life.
Cassandra was no stranger to grief, but this was new. How was she to mourn the loss of someone while they were still alive? Grieving countless nights and mornings that would never come to pass, black-haired, blue-eyed children that would never be born. Growing old with someone else, or—if events carried on as they were now—alone.A mistress. Used and then tossed away when Colonel Bishop grew bored with her. With his treatment of her today in the hallway, he wouldn’t be kind.