Chapter Two
HIS LORDSHIP LOOKED at the longcase clock on the far wall. Not ten minutes had passed since his arrival. He would stay another twenty minutes before departing for his favorite gaming hell.
“Surely you will give more thought to marriage now,” Katherine remarked.
If his aunt persisted on such topics, Alastair resolved he would stay only five minutes more. It was sufficient that he had curtailed his hunting trip to pay his respects to his aunt on her birthday. Aloud, he replied, “And why should you think that, madam?”
“You are the Marquess of Alastair now.”
Unimpressed, he said nothing, compelling his aunt to state the obvious.
“You will want an heir.”
“If I fail to produce one, the marquessate falls to my uncle.”
Katherine wrinkled her nose. “My younger brother is ill prepared to assume the title.”
“He is a d’Aubigne. That suffices.”
“I suppose if that is your view on the matter, you need never marry.”
“I see no reason to add unnecessary concerns to my plate.”
“You are fortunate you’ve no mother to fuss over your unmarried state.”
“Do you fret, m’lady?” he asked, for his aunt was as near to a mother as could be had, his own mother having been lost to him when he was a small child.
“I do not. You should know I am not the conventional sort of woman.”
He did indeed know, for it was his aunt who had introduced him to Château Follet, also known as the Château Debauchery, but he raised his brows nonetheless.
“It is not your bachelorhood that concerns me,” Katherine continued, “but will you never care for anyone?”
“I protest, madam. I would not be here tonight if I cared for no one. You are the reason I am willing to tolerate this tedious evening for any length of time.”
“As much as it warms my pride to know that you care for me, I would rather you not confine your affections to me alone. When I am gone, who will be left to care for you?”
He looked down at her ladyship, small in stature but large in heart, and with a willfulness that knew little retreat. “You do fret.”
“I suppose I do. Your friends are no friends at all. You have estranged your sisters with your profligacy. You think the rest of the family fools. If you do not find someone to care for, you will die a lonely, miserable old man.”
“Madam, there will always be those who care for my title and my wealth. I shall never be lonely.”
“Then you will be miserable.”
“That I am willing to accept.”
Katherine narrowed her eyes. “You think so now because you are at the height of vigor and handsomeness. You will think differently when the wenches are not so readily had.”
“Is that why you married?”
“Impudent pup! My dear Richard, God rest him, was the better half of me in every way. I never thought I should find a man who understood me so well. If not for Marguerite Follet, I should never have met my Richard. Perhaps she could recommend a lady for you when you are at her château this week.”
He recoiled at the idea. “Madam, I intend to spend my time at Château Follet suffused in depravity. The only mate I seek is for purely venereal purposes.”
He was about to excuse himself and make for the card tables when Mr. Abbott approached with a young man who had styled his hair in long, soft curls, though they did not hide his prominent widow’s peak. The many layers of his cravat gave him the appearance of a fancy rooster, and his cutaway coat revealed his large midsection and wide hips to no benefit.
“Lady Katherine, Lord Alastair,” Mr. Abbott greeted. “May I introduce to you the gentleman who will be my son-in-law, Mr. George Haversham?”