Ryan did indeed know what the man meant. Arthur Mullens was in his late fifties. Any ‘eligible’ bachelors Arthur invariably knew would be in their fifties too; far too old for any of his daughters.
“Should you not consider your daughters’ welfare? Marriage with large age gaps between the husband and wife are rarely successful,” Ryan warned. “I take it you have suitors lined up for all of your daughters?”
He felt sick at the thought of Sian effectively being sold off into marriage, but that was what Arthur had in mind for his charges if he couldn’t get out of the current financial mess that he was in. His daughters would have to marry, and marry well, and hopefully to husbands who could help Arthur out financially.
“Sian has adamantly refused to marry but she is going to have to do as she is told.”
Arthur’s tone became so clipped that Ryan wondered if father and daughter had already had an argument over the issue.
“Well, best not to force her,” Ryan offered. “I know an eligible bachelor or two who wouldn’t object to taking her, and they are far more of her age.”
When Arthur’s rheumy gaze lit with interest, Ryan mentally cursed. For the first time ever, Ryan wondered what his father saw in the older gent before him, not least because there was something about Arthur that was a little cold.
I certainly haven’t seen any familial warmth between him and his daughters whenever I have visited.
In contrast, Ryan’s relationship with his father was on more of a friendly basis. He valued and respected his father, with whom he had a warm loving relationship.
I wonder if father knows what his friend is truly like?
Making a mental note to discuss it with his sire when he did return from his travels, Ryan returned to glaring somewhat accusingly at Arthur, who once again began to explain how much he needed to sell his shares in Ryan’s cotton mill, and at a fair price too.
“But you still need to sell your daughters,” Ryan mused in a tone that was unapologetically disgusted.
Arthur blinked at him. “Well, I am not selling them exactly. They need to be married.”
“Having them off your hands isn’t necessarily going to answer your problems, though, is it?” Ryan challenged.
Arthur frowned at him, as if disliking being questioned on his callous attitude towards using his daughters as something that he needed to sell to better his own achievements in life.
“They are not shares in a cotton mill,” Ryan warned.
“I never once suggested that they are,” Arthur snapped, clearly affronted.
Ryan nodded, but made no attempt to placate the man. He didn’t care if Arthur was offended. To him, that was exactly how Arthur was treating his daughters; as something to off-load as readily as he was trying to sell his shares in the factory.
“My, isn’t he handsome?” Mabel murmured, peering over Sian’s shoulder at the man who was deep in conversation with her father.
“Father?” Sian teased.
Mabel rolled her eyes. “Lord Carson of course, you goose.”
She waggled her fingers when Ryan looked their way again.
Sian struggled not to smile when Ryan blinked, looked at her, coughed and shifted uncomfortably before refocusing on Arthur.
“What did you expect him to do? Waggle his fingers back at you?” Sian teased her mother.
“There is no problem with being polite with the man.” Mabel, being somewhat smaller in stature than her daughter, had to stand on tiptoe. Consequently, she was practically leaning on Sian, who still clung to the front door.
“Shouldn’t we move?” Sian lifted her brows at her mother, who was craning her neck to see better.
“What? Oh, no. We are perfectly fine here.”
“He is going to think we are awfully rude.” Sian found it far too distracting to remain where she was but suspected that if she moved her mother would fall over.
“Don’t you think he is handsome?” Mabel asked again as if Sian hadn’t just spoken.
“I suppose so,” Sian edged.