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Authors: Sara Ramsey
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spurned. It was good land, with a solid house and productive tenants. Anthony needed that. He would be a good man someday — the seeds of it were already there, even though he was too young for such a responsibility. But Thorington had been even younger when he had begun to raise his siblings. Anthony would grow into it.
Thorington would see to it that he had the chance to be more than just a rumored bastard with no income. Even if Anthony hated him for it.
His valet returned then. Thorington dressed for dinner as though preparing for battle. Anthony might not want Maidenstone Abbey, but Thorington would hand it to him on a platter if he had to.
And if Callista Briarley was the key to the kingdom, he’d hand her to him as well.
CHAPTER FOUR
At a quarter past four, Thorington stood outside one of Maidenstone’s drawing rooms and willed himself to focus. The mantle he wore in public — his identity as the Duke of Thorington — was something he could slip into effortlessly. There had been a time, years earlier, when he had just been Gavin. Now, he knew how to command a room, how to fill it with his presence until others were dazzled by the show he gave them.
He would dazzle everyone. They would only see the Duke of Thorington, as cool and imperturbable as always. None of them knew about the small stack of letters awaiting him when he’d arrived — the first tentative requests for payment from his many and varied creditors, forwarded by his business manager with a rather worried note. None of them knew that he had very nearly shouted at his valet when the man had ruined a jacket Thorington couldn’t afford to replace.
Thorington, for all his faults, didn’t shout at servants.
He strode through the doors. The rest of the room fell away. The other suitors knew better than to get in his way.
He was the Duke of Thorington, and he would take what he sought.
He took in the scene like a predator looking for the most delicious prey. Rafe stood near the empty fireplace, surveying the room just as Thorington did, although he was probably looking for liquor rather than heiresses. Anthony and the girls were just visible through the doors to the connecting drawing room, talking to a circle of Anthony’s friends. Anthony wouldn’t lack for company here, since half the families in the ton would have sent their sons in an attempt to win Maidenstone.
No sign of Callista, though. If he weren’t so well-schooled, he would have grinned. Whenever she arrived, he suspected she would make an entrance.
But while he waited, he may as well pursue his agenda. He found his first quarry almost immediately. Lucretia sat near the opposite wall with Lady Maidenstone, under a portrait of Lord Maidenstone. It was a bad likeness. Thorington had seen the old earl in the House of Lords on numerous occasions, before his final series of illnesses over the last three years had confined him to Maidenstone. The painting had captured his hauteur, but not his charm.
The granddaughter beneath the painting had all the hauteur as well. Thorington hoped she had some of the charm. If Anthony didn’t care for Callista, Lucretia was the next best option — Octavia, by all accounts, was far too scandalous. Anthony already had expensive tastes. A woman with a similarly destructive bent would ruin him.
He walked up to Lucretia, his pace leisurely, as though he knew she’d wait for him to say whatever he wished to say. “Lady Maidenstone, Miss Briarley,” he said, giving them the honor of a small bow. “Maidenstone Abbey is exquisite. If you keep it, by some miracle, I hope to be invited to visit again.”
Callista might have punched him for being unapologetically rude, but Lucretia was more reserved. “Thank you, your grace,” she said, even as two spots of color bloomed on her cheeks. “I hope the party shall show it to its best advantage.”
The girl positively reeked of pride. He might even smell it if he stepped closer,
Thorington would see to it that he had the chance to be more than just a rumored bastard with no income. Even if Anthony hated him for it.
His valet returned then. Thorington dressed for dinner as though preparing for battle. Anthony might not want Maidenstone Abbey, but Thorington would hand it to him on a platter if he had to.
And if Callista Briarley was the key to the kingdom, he’d hand her to him as well.
CHAPTER FOUR
At a quarter past four, Thorington stood outside one of Maidenstone’s drawing rooms and willed himself to focus. The mantle he wore in public — his identity as the Duke of Thorington — was something he could slip into effortlessly. There had been a time, years earlier, when he had just been Gavin. Now, he knew how to command a room, how to fill it with his presence until others were dazzled by the show he gave them.
He would dazzle everyone. They would only see the Duke of Thorington, as cool and imperturbable as always. None of them knew about the small stack of letters awaiting him when he’d arrived — the first tentative requests for payment from his many and varied creditors, forwarded by his business manager with a rather worried note. None of them knew that he had very nearly shouted at his valet when the man had ruined a jacket Thorington couldn’t afford to replace.
Thorington, for all his faults, didn’t shout at servants.
He strode through the doors. The rest of the room fell away. The other suitors knew better than to get in his way.
He was the Duke of Thorington, and he would take what he sought.
He took in the scene like a predator looking for the most delicious prey. Rafe stood near the empty fireplace, surveying the room just as Thorington did, although he was probably looking for liquor rather than heiresses. Anthony and the girls were just visible through the doors to the connecting drawing room, talking to a circle of Anthony’s friends. Anthony wouldn’t lack for company here, since half the families in the ton would have sent their sons in an attempt to win Maidenstone.
No sign of Callista, though. If he weren’t so well-schooled, he would have grinned. Whenever she arrived, he suspected she would make an entrance.
But while he waited, he may as well pursue his agenda. He found his first quarry almost immediately. Lucretia sat near the opposite wall with Lady Maidenstone, under a portrait of Lord Maidenstone. It was a bad likeness. Thorington had seen the old earl in the House of Lords on numerous occasions, before his final series of illnesses over the last three years had confined him to Maidenstone. The painting had captured his hauteur, but not his charm.
The granddaughter beneath the painting had all the hauteur as well. Thorington hoped she had some of the charm. If Anthony didn’t care for Callista, Lucretia was the next best option — Octavia, by all accounts, was far too scandalous. Anthony already had expensive tastes. A woman with a similarly destructive bent would ruin him.
He walked up to Lucretia, his pace leisurely, as though he knew she’d wait for him to say whatever he wished to say. “Lady Maidenstone, Miss Briarley,” he said, giving them the honor of a small bow. “Maidenstone Abbey is exquisite. If you keep it, by some miracle, I hope to be invited to visit again.”
Callista might have punched him for being unapologetically rude, but Lucretia was more reserved. “Thank you, your grace,” she said, even as two spots of color bloomed on her cheeks. “I hope the party shall show it to its best advantage.”
The girl positively reeked of pride. He might even smell it if he stepped closer,
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