The Beguilement of Lady Eustacia Cavanagh (The Cavanaughs 3)

Ryder’s lips thinned even more, then he shifted his gaze to Rand, then turned to look at Kit, then Godfrey.

Finally, Ryder swiveled to face Frederick again, stared at him assessingly for several heartbeats, then said, “Rand has already informed me that, financially speaking, you and the estate are in excellent shape.”

Frederick cut an amused glance at Rand and saw faint color tinge Rand’s cheeks.

Returning his gaze to Ryder, Frederick tipped his head in confirmation.

“As for all the rest,” Ryder went on, “if you were sitting on this side of the desk and the lady in question was one of your sisters, is there anything—any point at all—that you, as her guardian, would wish to know, prior to giving your agreement to this suit?”

Frederick’s brows arched spontaneously. “That’s a shrewd and cleverly phrased question. Regardless, there is nothing that comes to mind about my current life that in any way impinges on my suitability to offer for Stacie’s hand.” He met Ryder’s eyes. “Is that what you wished to know?”

“It is.” Ryder paused, then nodded. “If you can persuade Stacie to accept your suit, you’ll have our blessing, our backing, and should you need it, our active support.”

Frederick nearly allowed his surprise to show; a promise of backing and active support was far more than he’d expected.

“I take it,” Ryder said, “that I should place an announcement in the Gazette.”

Frederick agreed. “Better it comes from you than me.”

Ryder nodded. “I’ll do it today.”

Frederick hesitated, but they had offered to help. “Accepting that we are all in favor of the same end goal, what can you tell me about Stacie’s reasons for holding so firmly against marriage?”

Ryder glanced at his brothers. “I know she’s avoided encouraging any gentleman, but is she truly set against it?”

“More to the point,” Kit said, “is it marriage per se or marriage to you that she’s so set against?”

“I’ve asked,” Frederick returned, “and she insists it’s the former. She’s adamant that marriage, the institution, is not for her. And yes, I’ve asked why she believes that—her reply was that her reasons were too difficult to explain.”

Ryder grimaced. “Mary, and more recently Felicia and Sylvia, have started to suspect that there’s something”—he gestured—“more profound behind Stacie’s avowed disinterest in matrimony. But as for what that might be?” He shook his head. “I have no clue.”

Frederick arched his brows challengingly. “So guess.”

After a moment, Kit said, “We’ve always known she was dismissive of marriage in relation to herself, but it seems she’s hardened her stance into outright refusal.”

“Or perhaps,” Rand said, meeting Kit’s eyes, “she was always of that mind, but found it easier simply to avoid the subject rather than state—and argue—her case.” He looked at Frederick. “You and this engagement—sham or not—has forced her to state her position plainly.”

Godfrey shifted. “I doubt any of us have ever asked her directly whether she wished to marry or not.”

Ryder grunted. “Few would have, and even so, she’s adept at skirting around the subject.”

“Remember,” Kit said, “when Stacie caught Sylvia’s bouquet at our wedding breakfast? Sylvia was up on a chair and had the best view. She said that when the bouquet landed in Stacie’s hands, she looked more horrified than delighted.”

“God, yes! She nearly bit off my nose when I mentioned it later.” Godfrey paused, then added, “She was upset and even angry over having caught the bouquet.”

Frederick waited, but when the brothers appeared sunk in thought and volunteered nothing more, he prompted, “It seems we’re all agreed that the Stacie I’m now dealing with has a deeply entrenched aversion to marrying. It’s not some whim assumed to make herself interesting or in pursuit of the label of eccentric but a sincerely and deeply held belief. Do you have any insights into how long she’s held that view?”

The question clearly made the brothers uncomfortable. They exchanged looks, and eventually, it seemed to fall to Rand to reply. He appeared to gather his thoughts, then, reluctantly, met Frederick’s eyes. “We can only guess, but I think all of us suspect that any…adverse view of marriage Stacie holds would have been formed during the years she spent under our mother Lavinia’s wing.”

Frederick held up a hand and looked at Ryder. “She wasn’t your mother.”

Ryder shook his head. “Lavinia was our father’s second wife. However, the pater and she had gone their separate ways long before he died—at Lavinia’s insistence. For her part, Lavinia attached herself to the most racy and ramshackle set—she took great delight in sailing as close as she could to the line the ton would tolerate.”

“Our father died when Stacie was thirteen,” Rand said, “and thereafter, she lived with Lavinia.”

“When I came into the title,” Ryder explained, “Lavinia insisted on moving out of this house. She demanded the estate buy her a town house, essentially as her dower house in Mayfair, and to keep her quiet, I did.”

“At first,” Kit said, “we four all theoretically lived with her, again, at her insistence, but of course, the three of us—Rand, me, and Godfrey—spent most of our time away at school.”