“I’m not interested in your bloody dowry,” he snapped, blasting his brother for leaving the family affairs in such disarray. It wasn’t the first time he’d damned Peter’s fecklessness since he’d inherited. “You know I want you for yourself alone.”
“Save your breath.” She broke away and backed toward the wall.
Surely she wasn’t genuinely afraid of him? If she was, he’d go straight home and blow his brains out. What an infernal mess he’d made of all this. “Marianne—”
“Why is this confounded door closed?” Large, burly, belligerent, Lord Baildon barged into the room and glowered at his daughter.
Bugger. Elias had hoped to have longer with her, if simply to apologize for acting like such a boor.
“Papa, Lord Wilmott was about to leave,” she said steadily, looking like a queen and shifting further from Elias.
“What are you doing here, Wilmott?” the old man barked.
Elias struggled to look as if he and Marianne hadn’t just been shouting at one another. “I’m taking my leave, sir.”
“Then take your leave. We’re for Hillbrook’s place in the country today and she’s no time for her flirts.”
“Papa!” Marianne protested.
“I speak as I find, my girl. This ruffian has been sniffing around you for months. He can obviously smell a fortune.”
Elias’s lips tightened against a hot response. “You are offensive, my lord.”
“Offensive, am I?” Baildon regarded him from under heavy gray brows. “See how offensive you find this. My daughter’s portion is at my discretion. If she marries without my consent, I’ll cast her off. How amorous do you feel now you know that she’ll come to you destitute?”
“You do both of us an injustice, Lord Baildon,” Elias said stiffly.
“I don’t think so,” Baildon grunted.
“Lady Marianne’s person is fortune enough,” Elias said, meaning it, although he could see neither Baildon nor, more importantly, Marianne believed him.
“I’ve decided that she’s marrying Desborough, so don’t waste your time here, my fine fellow.”
The temper Marianne had so recently directed at Elias brightened her eyes. “Papa, this is not a suitable discussion to hold outside the family.”
Her father scowled and puffed up like an angry toad. “It is when I find my daughter closeted with a man whose very name is a byword for folly and vice.”
“Lord Wilmott isn’t responsible for his brother’s sins,” she retorted. Elias was surprised and gratified to hear her defend him. After all, her father’s insults weren’t far removed from what she’d said to him. He supposed he should take umbrage at Baildon’s churlishness, but what was the point?
“All the Thornes are useless charges on the state. This popinjay might have a handsome face, but that won’t keep you warm when he’s gambled away every penny of your dowry.”
“My lord, I charge you to watch your tongue,” Elias snapped, losing patience. He regarded the man down his long nose. He’d always known that Lord Baildon disliked him. Only now did he realize the depths of the man’s loathing. This wooing seemed more hopeless by the minute.
Baildon glowered. “I can say what I like when you’re in my house, whispering dangerous lies to my daughter. The minute I heard you’d turned up this morning, I knew what your game is. Marry my lovely Marianne to a scoundrel like you? I’d drown her first.”
“Nobody’s drowning anyone,” she said evenly. She crossed to place her hand on her father’s arm. “Be at peace, Papa. There’s no need for all this shouting. You know Dr. Manion said you shouldn’t get upset.”
“He’s an old woman,” Baildon said gruffly and patted her hand with an affection that, in other circumstances, might have soothed Elias’s resentment.
Marianne cast Elias a pleading look. “Forgive my father’s frankness. He’s very protective of me.”
Too protective in Elias’s mind, but he bowed shortly to the older man. He had grounds to call Baildon out. Unfortunately shooting his prospective father-in-law wouldn’t further his cause, much as the brute asked for it. “My esteem is sincere, my lord.”
Baildon growled his contempt for that statement. “You esteem her pounds and shillings.” He turned to Marianne. “You haven’t been fool enough to commit yourself, have you, lass?”
“No, I haven’t, Papa,” she said, and Elias wished to God that he heard a shred of regret in her answer.
“That’s good. You’re for Desborough. You should be bloody glad to take him after this blackguard’s hoyden of a sister snatched Camden Rothermere from under your nose.”