Cartmel twirled the glass in his hand, swirling the reddish amber liquid inside until it resembled nothing so much as a hurricane in his grasp, all the while keeping his gaze unerringly on Sebastian. “Mistakes,” he mused. “An interesting choice of words. A mistake, after all, implies an action is unintended. Whereas your father’s actions were quite deliberately calculated.”
The bastard. Forcefully tamping down the shame and fury that frothed in his gut, it took every bit of Sebastian’s self-control to keep from storming from the room. He knew he could talk until he was blue in the face, explaining how he had been completely oblivious to what his father had been up to until after his untimely death, how he had tracked down every last lender and investor and paid them back with interest, how he’d been paying in unimaginable ways every day since.
But looking into Cartmel’s flat, cold eyes—eyes that resembled a shark’s—he knew those excuses would fall on deaf ears. And he knew that after months of the man courting Sebastian’s title as ruthlessly as Sebastian had courted Miss Bridling and her dowry, this was the final test, the one last hurdle to jump before Cartmel gave Sebastian the salvation he was trying so damn hard to reach.
Sebastian’s stomach lurched at how cold and mercenary the whole blasted thing was.
Still Lord Cartmel waited. With utmost will, Sebastian inclined his head, a silent acceptance of the baron’s cruel words. He had taken on every burden and bit of blame his father’s actions had created; he would certainly not stop now.
Cartmel’s smile widened. “I’m glad we have gotten that out of the way then. But before I give my consent—no easy thing, you know, for Diane is my dearest and only daughter—I have one thing I need you to do for me.”
Alarm bells clanged about in Sebastian’s head. What the devil was this? Was the man not going to give his blessing today? Was he going to continue to dangle Sebastian over the precipice? His tension was gone in an instant, replaced by a fury so bitter he could taste it.
“I don’t understand, my lord,” he gritted.
For the first time in the exchange, Cartmel’s ever-present composure cracked. Though it was no mere press of lips. Lines of tension bracketed his mouth as he shifted in his seat, his eyes tightening at the corners. But he did not answer right away. No, he took a sip of his brandy, observed the way the light caught in the liquor. Sebastian might have thought he was simply increasing the suspense, attempting to make Sebastian squirm. Yet he saw in the way Cartmel’s Adam’s apple bobbed furiously that he was nervous.
Again those alarm bells pealed, louder than before. Whatever it was the baron had to say, it was not good.
Just when Sebastian thought he would go mad from waiting, the other man spoke.
“I have always let my children know that I shall find a spouse for them, one that will provide a benefit to this family. Diane is proving obedient, of course. But my son has shown himself to be quite difficult in this regard. I have recently been made aware that he has become somewhat… enamored of a certain woman of dubious virtue. I would have been happy to let the boy sow his oats, of course. Men of our station, as you know, keep mistresses and such. There is no shame in it. Indeed, it is expected, to help relieve our more manly urges.”
No shame for the man, perhaps. Sebastian breathed slow and deep as he thought of the women involved in such situations, who were vilified while the man was applauded.
“But it seems Harlow is not content to merely pump the girl and be done with her,” Cartmel continued, his composure cracking as anger saturated his features, turning his complexion florid. “Nor is he happy to set her up in a house of her own and visit her on occasion, no matter I offered him the funds to do so. No, the damned boy insists he will marry her.”
His brows drew low in fury. “It’s his need to be a savior, no doubt. He always was enamored of the idea of playing a knight in shining armor. And when he rescued that actress from an overzealous admirer one evening it must have brought up those grandiose delusions that he revels in. Why else would the boy claim to have fallen in love with such a creature?” He made a rude noise. “Can you imagine? My son, the latest in a line that goes back as far as the Norse invasion, marrying that—that—creature? An actress! A woman who has been with half of London. My son shall be a laughingstock. And our revered lineage shall be soiled beyond redemption.”
How Sebastian did not roll his eyes, he would never know. Revered lineage, my arse. He had heard of the connection, of course. Miss Mirabel Hutton was popular, and beautiful, and talented, her company much sought after. And she was also worth ten of Mr. Harlow Bridling, a boy not yet three and twenty who was as ridiculous as any one person could be.
But it made no sense why the baron was bringing this up to Sebastian. “I’m sorry, my lord, but I don’t understand how I fit into all of this.”
Cartmel sat forward, spearing Sebastian with an intense look. “I want you to take the boy away from London, distract him, make him forget this woman, show him a good time.” His expression hardened—well, it became harder than it already was, a feat unto itself. “And make certain he remains with you and doesn’t run off to elope with that strumpet. If you do this for our family, I shall gladly give my support to your marriage with my daughter.”
Sebastian gaped at him. His future hung on the whim of a young man who believed himself in love? “You cannot be serious.”
At once the fervent look faded from the man’s face, replaced with his typical haughty coldness as he sat back. “I assure you, I am quite serious.”
“And if he falls in love with another unsuitable young lady while we’re away from the capital?” Sebastian demanded. Truly, so much could go wrong here, it was frightening.
But the baron merely waved a hand in dismissal. “That will be dealt with should the time come. The main objective now is to remove Miss Hutton from his mind.”
He speared Sebastian with a hard glare. “This is my one condition to you marrying my daughter. You need to prove that you can be loyal to this family.”
When Sebastian continued to gape at him, the baron narrowed his eyes. “You either do this for our family, Ramsleigh, or you can see yourself out the door. What shall it be?”
Dear God, the man was serious. Effectively backed into the proverbial corner, Sebastian saw no way out of it. He would have to see this done.
“Very well, my lord,” he replied through stiff lips. “Is there any place in particular you wish for me to take your son?”
“I have already sent word to an old family friend, Lady Tesh, that you shall both be arriving posthaste, and so you may set off first thing tomorrow, the better to get the boy out of London before he does something rash. The Isle of Synne is secluded enough that Harlow shall be quite effectively stuck there, and it is not yet their summer season, so I can be assured that any fortune hunters will be few and far between. I’ve a mind to match the boy with an heiress while he’s out of the city, to recoup the coffers I shall be depleting on you should you manage to succeed in this endeavor.”
He sat forward, his expression giving no quarter. “Provide him with the time and distance necessary to break his infatuation and you shall have my Diane and her generous dowry.”