‘I am sure it was very disagreeable,’ Samuel said, his skin tingling with discomfort. ‘Do you recall the entire sum?’
His mother took another shaky breath, bringing her handkerchief to her dry eyes. ‘Two hundred thousand and three pounds, five shillings, and four pence.’
He swore underneath his breath, clenching his fists but still feeling helpless and vulnerable. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he asked, ‘And how much money do I still owe Lady Hampford or her company?’
‘I am not entirely sure,’ his mother said, not looking him in the eye. ‘I believe the total to be over one hundred thousand pounds.’
Samuel’s pulse thundered against his skin. His heartbeat quickened as if he were about to face an enemy army with cannons and guns. ‘One hundred thousand pounds! My commission is not worth a tenth of such a sum.’
Mama took his fisted hand and stroked the top of it. ‘Lady Hampford, Selina, told me that the estate, even without the unentailed property, was worth around ten thousand pounds a year. And if we did not entertain, reduced the staff, and sold the best horses from the stables, we could contrive to live on less than half of that amount and slowly pay back the remaining mortgages. I have enforced the strictest of economies on the estate these last six years and we are in a much better financial position than we were.’
Samuel released his hold on his mother and stood, walking briskly around the room, holding his elbows tightly to his sides. ‘Is there anything else I should know?’
Another tear fell down his mother’s cheek. ‘I hope you know that everything I did, I did for you.’
‘I do not doubt that.’
More tears fell down her cheeks, but his mother made no attempt to wipe them with the handkerchief in her palm. He was supposed to see these tears. ‘Selina saved our family from ruin and she suggested that you need not pay back the mortgages held by her company... That they could be a part of your wife’s dowry in addition to the money from her father of thirty thousand pounds. You would only need to repay the initial mortgage on the estate.’
An unsettling heaviness overcame his body and he felt cold all over. His mother and Lady Hampford were forcing his hand. He knew that they had planned such a union from the time he was a small child, but these sorts of family arrangements were not legally binding and he had never intended to marry Frederica. He’d wanted to choose his own bride.
His mother tried to touch him, but he recoiled. ‘Lady Frederica Stringham is the last woman on earth that I should wish to marry.’
‘Now, Samuel, you haven’t seen her in seven years, and she has become a prodigiously pretty girl and very accomplished,’ his mother protested, no longer feigning tears. ‘Even your father was quite set upon the match before he went mad. And you could hardly do better than a duke’s daughter... Lady Hampford expects you to call on her this very afternoon to ask for her daughter’s hand in marriage.’
He felt a sharp pain as he sucked in his cheeks, biting down on them in anger. ‘I will not.’
Mama picked up her fan that was attached to her wrist and gently wafted it as if this were an everyday sort of conversation and not the end of his hopes and plans. ‘Is there another lady you prefer?’
Gritting his teeth, Samuel shook his head. ‘No.’
His mother got to her feet and placed a hand on his arm. ‘Dearest son, people of our rank rarely make love matches. And those few like myself who marry for love, are not always happy. Not that it was strictly a love match, for our parents did bring us together several times. As you know, after we were married, your father did not remain faithful to me for very long. Samuel, I beg you to consider Lady Frederica. The Stringhams can trace their line back to William the Conqueror. And I know that I can trust you to be a good and faithful husband to her.’
His own father had been anything but good and faithful. Whenever Papa had been in London, which was most of the year, there was always a prostitute on his arm, usually two of them. His father had also frequented every whorehouse and bawdy club in the city. He’d even brought them into their family’s townhouse. Samuel did not regret that his solicitors had sold it to pay his family’s debts. He never wished to step foot in that building again.
Samuel tried to swallow again, but was unable to. His throat felt thick. ‘For all that Lady Frederica is the daughter of a duke and a descendant of the Conqueror, everyone knows that her grandfather is a wealthy London merchant who purchased Lady Hampford’s way into the peerage.’
‘That is all forgot,’ his mother assured him with a coaxing smile. ‘Selina has been the Duchess of Hampford for over thirty years, and her children have married into all the best families. Think of the connections you would acquire. And you would save your family from further disgrace and penury. For how are you to provide for your brother, Jeremy, if you have not a farthing to spare? And you would have to repay the additional mortgages held by the Duchess’s company.’
Clenching his fists, every muscle in Samuel’s body quivered with anger, resentment, and frustration. ‘I take it that both Peterson and Fuller are aware of my approaching nuptials? And no doubt they have already met with Lord Matthew Stringham to discuss the wedding settlements.’
Mama held up her hand. ‘Only a preliminary meeting. And Matthew is the Earl of Trentham now.’
He let out a forceful breath. ‘What if I were to be killed fighting Napoleon? What would Lady Hampford do with the mortgages then?’
Clearing her throat, Mama said, ‘Selina was wishful that you sell out of the army immediately, and we had not yet heard of Napoleon’s escape when we initially discussed your marriage. After we learned of Napoleon’s uprising, she did say,most delicately, that if you were not to come back from war, that perhaps Jeremy might become fond of her youngest daughter, Rebecca. Such a dear girl. She is quite a favourite with me.’
‘By Jove! That beats all,’ he said, digging his fingernails into his palms. He would not force his little brother into an unwanted marriage. ‘Lady Hampford is a fool if she thinks I will go down without a fight. I’ll find a way without her money.’
Samuel left the parlour, slamming the door behind him. Passing several servants, he walked through the long portrait gallery of his ancestors. He resented each and every painting.
‘Oi, Samuel,’ his younger brother, Jeremy, hailed.
Jeremy had inherited his mother’s pale blue eyes and pointy nose. At the age of fifteen, he was an ungainly youth with large hands and feet. A smattering of freckles sprinkled over the top of his nose, and his hair and eyebrows were so blond that they looked white.
He gave Samuel a quizzing smile. ‘Is Mama still weeping? By golly, I never knew one woman could retain so much water inside her. I daresay she has been weeping for three weeks together, which is perfectly ridiculous, because she did not even like Papa. No one did.’
Samuel grasped his little brother’s shoulders for a moment and then let go. ‘Have no fear. Her endless stream of tears has finally ebbed. When are you back to Eton?’