Beyond Seduction (Bastion Club 6)
“This is not a battlefield on which you have any experience,” Jane declared in her most serious voice. “In this theater, you’re vulnerable.”
She was obviously reciting arguments they’d discussed at length; just the thought was horrifying. Trying to assimilate their unexpected and peculiarly female point of view was making Gervase giddy.
He held up a hand. “Wait. Just stop. Let’s approach this logically.” He cast a glance at Sybil, only to surmise from her attentive expression that however much she might deplore her daughters’ actions, she didn’t, materially, disagree with their assessment. No help there. He drew breath, and stated, “You’re worried that, like Robert Hardesty, I’ll fall victim to some fashionable London lady who will take a dislike to you and convince me to send you to live with Great-Aunt Agatha.”
All t
hree girls nodded.
“To prevent such an occurrence, you made sure I had no time in the capital during which to meet any such lady.”
Again three definite nods.
“But you know I need a wife. You understand that I have to marry?” Not least to secure the title and the entailed estate, given he was the last male Tregarth.
“That’s obvious,” Belinda informed him. “Aside from anything else, you’re never going to manage the social obligations adequately on your own, and Mama can help only so far. Once we wed, she’ll live with us, so you should marry as soon as possible so your countess can learn the ropes.”
“Besides which,” Annabel put in, “you having the right lady as your countess will make it much easier for us to make our come-outs properly. We’re now titled ladies, and poor Mama is going to have a time of it if she has to manage our come-outs on her own.”
“And, of course,” little Jane continued, her voice lighter than the other two, “there’s the fact you need to sire an heir, or else when you die the estate will revere…” She stopped, frowned.
“Revert,” Gervase supplied.
She thanked him with a serious little nod. “Revert to that disgustingly fat, dissolute reprobate, the Prince Regent.” She met Gervase’s gaze. “And no one would want that.”
Gervase stared at her, then glanced at the other two. Clearly he didn’t need to explain the facts of his life—familial or social—to them. “If you understand all that, then you must see that in order to find the, as Annabel put it, right lady to be my countess, I need to go to London—”
He broke off as all three vehemently shook their heads. It wasn’t just the action, but the look in their narrowing eyes, and the set of their firming lips and chins, that stilled his tongue.
“No,” Belinda stated. “No London ladies. Now that you understand our position, you must see that we can’t allow you to simply swan off and search by yourself in London.”
“If you do,” Annabel prophesied, “you’ll be caught.”
“Some London harpy will get her claws into you, and we won’t be there to drive her off.”
That last came from Jane. Gervase looked into her eyes, hoping to see that she was joking, or to at least detect some comprehension that she was over extrapolating, some indication that she understood that he had no need of their protection, especially in such an arena. Instead, all he saw was that same dogged, unbending purpose. One glance at the other two confirmed that they, too, saw her words as a simple statement of fact.
He stared at them, feeling like he’d strayed into a reality he no longer recognized. He really couldn’t believe he was having this discussion. One part of his mind was convinced he must be dreaming. “But”—he seemed to have no alternative but to ask the obvious—“if I can’t go to London and find a bride there, where do you imagine I’ll find a suitable lady to be my countess?”
That earned him a three-pronged look that suggested he was being deliberately obtuse.
“You need to look around here, of course,” Belinda informed him.
“In the neighborhood and nearby towns,” Annabel clarified.
“So you can bring her home and show her the castle, and us,” Jane added. “Before you marry her.”
He suddenly understood—or rather, his brain finally accepted what his intellect had deduced. “You want to vet my choice?”
All three blinked at him; Sybil did, too.
“Well, of course!” Belinda said.
His expression set like stone. “No.”
That should have been the end of it. He should have said not one more word and stalked from the room. Should have realized from what had already passed that in the last ten years his sisters had grown even more like him—until he was no match for the three of them together.
They could talk rings around a philosophy professor.