Gareth choked on his drink.
“It’s good, isn’t it?” Anthony said, looking at the bottle. “Aged twenty-four years.”
“I don’t believe I’ve ever ingested anything quite so ancient,” Gareth murmured.
“Now then,” Anthony said, leaning against the edge of his desk, “you’ll want to discuss the settlements, I’m sure.”
The truth was, Gareth hadn’t even thought about the settlements, strange as that seemed for a man in possession of very few funds. He’d been so surprised by his sudden decision to marry Hyacinth that his mind hadn’t even touched upon the practical aspects of such a union.
“It is common knowledge that I increased her dowry last year,” Anthony said, his face growing more serious. “I will stand by that, although I would hope that it is not your primary reason for marrying her.”
“Of course not,” Gareth replied, bristling.
“I didn’t think so,” Anthony said, “but one has to ask.”
“I would hardly think a man would admit it to you if it were,” Gareth said.
Anthony looked up sharply. “I would like to think I can read a man’s face well enough to know if he is lying.”
“Of course,” Gareth said, sitting back down.
But it didn’t appear that the viscount had taken offense. “Now then,” he said, “her portion stands at…”
Gareth watched with a touch of confusion as Anthony just shook his head and allowed his words to trail off. “My lord?” he murmured.
“My apologies,” Anthony said, snapping back to attention. “I’m a bit unlike myself just now, I must assure you.”
“Of course,” Gareth murmured, since agreement was really the only acceptable course of action at that point.
“I never thought
this day would come,” the viscount said. “We’ve had offers, of course, but none I was willing to entertain, and none recently.” He let out a long breath. “I had begun to despair that anyone of merit would wish to marry her.”
“You seem to hold your sister in an unbecomingly low regard,” Gareth said coolly.
Anthony looked up and actually smiled. Sort of. “Not at all,” he said. “But nor am I blind to her…ah…unique qualities.” He stood, and Gareth realized instantly that Lord Bridgerton was using his height to intimidate. He also realized that he should not misinterpret the viscount’s initial display of levity and relief. This was a dangerous man, or at least he could be when he so chose, and Gareth would do well not to forget it.
“My sister Hyacinth,” the viscount said slowly, walking toward the window, “is a prize. You should remember that, and if you value your skin, you will treat her as the treasure she is.”
Gareth held his tongue. It didn’t seem the correct time to chime in.
“But while Hyacinth may be a prize,” Anthony said, turning around with the slow, deliberate steps of a man who is well familiar with his power, “she isn’t easy. I will be the first one to admit to this. There aren’t many men who can match wits with her, and if she is trapped into marriage with someone who does not appreciate her…singular personality, she will be miserable.”
Still, Gareth did not speak. But he did not remove his eyes from the viscount’s face.
And Anthony returned the gesture. “I will give you my permission to marry her,” he said. “But you should think long and hard before you ask her yourself.”
“What are you saying?” Gareth asked suspiciously, rising to his feet.
“I will not mention this interview to her. It is up to you to decide if you wish to take the final step. And if you do not…”The viscount shrugged, his shoulders rising and falling in an oddly Gallic gesture. “In that case,” he said, sounding almost disturbingly calm, “she will never know.”
How many men had the viscount scared off in this manner, Gareth wondered. Good God, was this why Hyacinth had gone unmarried for so long? He supposed he should be grateful, since it had left her free to marry him, but still, did she realize her eldest brother was a madman?
“If you don’t make my sister happy,” Anthony Bridgerton continued, his eyes just intense enough to confirm Gareth’s suspicions about his sanity, “then you will not be happy. I will see to it myself.”
Gareth opened his mouth to offer the viscount a scathing retort—to hell with treating him with kid gloves and tiptoeing around his high and mightiness. But then, just when he was about to insult his future brother-in-law, probably irreversibly, something else popped out of his mouth instead.
“You love her, don’t you?”