His sister stood not even a foot away with her hands planted akimbo, her eyebrows knitted into a single, dangerous line. “Getting on in years?” she repeated back, drawing out each of those four words in a “you-are-in-deuced-trouble-tone” that would have made her the envy of any stern mama.

“Yes, but you’re rather focusing on the least important aspect of what I—”

“You think to wed me off to a—”

“Kind and honorable gentleman,” he cut in. And that was the essential part. He set what remained of his brandy down hard on the sideboard. Droplets splashed his coat.

“No.”

This again. And this is why he required someone of the female persuasion, because where Chloe was concerned, she’d never done anything if it had come at his bequest.

Once more he lamented she was not just a little bit like Philippa. Not all of her, for that would fundamentally alter who she was. Just the difficult parts. About wedding that was.

So when presented with the prospect of either debating the merits and necessity of her wedding, one of those honorable, caring, gentle sorts or avoiding conflict altogether, he chose the latter. “Very well.” He’d allow Mrs. Belden’s esteemed instructors to handle the matter of this topic.

Alas, his sister was of an altogether different mind frame. “I’ve no intentions of wedding.”

His gut tightened. By the life they’d lived, the horrors she’d been subjected to, was it a wonder that she’d avow the marital state? “Surely you recognize you have to eventually wed.”

“No.” She shook her head. “No, I don’t. I’ll be quite content as the spinsterish aunt who bounces my nieces and nephews upon my knee.” Chloe folded her arms across her chest. “Perhaps we’d both be better served by focusing our attentions on finding you a match.”

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He blinked. “Me?”

She gave a vigorous nod. “You.”

Within the confines of his gloves, his palms grew moist and he dusted them along the sides of his breeches. “I don’t care to discuss my marital state,” he muttered and grabbed his snifter, particularly because there was no marital state for him, nor would there ever be. He took another swallow of the remaining contents and then set down the empty glass.

An inelegant snort escaped his sister. “Of course you don’t.” She paused. “Any more than I do. But,” she held a finger up and wagged it under his nose. “You are in far greater need of a spouse than I am.”

“Am I?” he drawled, feigning nonchalance.

Alas, by the triumphant glint in her gaze, his astute sister had already gathered his disquiet and pressed her advantage. God, she was ruthless. All of Boney’s forces would have been hopeless under her dogged tenacity. She waved her gloved fingertip once more. “Oh, yes. There is the matter of you producing an heir.”

He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I will not discuss the matter of an heir with you.” Or anyone. Wisely his sister fell silent.

Alas, Chloe had never been one to stay quiet for long.

“I am merely pointing out that it is far more important that you wed.” A twinkle lit her eyes. “Particularly with your advancing years.”

For a long time he’d warred within himself about that obligation expected of him. To wed and produce an heir, he’d preserve a line once held by a monster. What an ultimate victory over that bastard who’d sired them, who’d loved the line more than anything and everything—to let it die and go to some distant, removed cousin. “There is Alex,” Gabriel pointed out. For with his brother wed, the line wouldn’t die with him.

She opened her mouth to continue her debate, but with glass in hand, he strode past her. “My marital state is neither here nor there,” he said in clipped tones, as he reclaimed his familiar seat behind his desk. He cradled his glass in his hands. “I am worried over your being alone since Imogen and Alex married.” Chloe had always been a rather lonely girl until she’d met Lady Imogen. Now since the wedding between her best friend and brother, Chloe had become that same solitary person. “Mother has written and is concerned about you and your Season.” Perhaps he had more of his bastard father in him than he’d ever suspected for he pounced on his sister’s weakness. “She will leave Philippa’s side if it means you require her presence.” It was a bold, blatant lie.




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