The Courtship - Catherine Coulter [79]
Lord Prith sat back in his chair. “I am sorry for that, my boy.”
Lord Beecham continued to stare at the man he hoped was his future father-in-law. He had spilled every bit of blackness in his soul, laid it all out for Lord Prith to examine. Now Lord Prith would realize that he wasn’t the man for his beloved daughter. He had been stunted and embittered. He wasn’t worthy of someone pure and wholesome, the only woman to make him beg to give his all to his marital duties until he was called to the other side.
But he wasn’t worthy. It all came down to that. He waited to hear the ax drop on his neck.
Lord Prith said, “At least you are not short. That bodes well for you. Helen turns down short men.”
He blinked. Lord Prith was considering him? His confession had not set him irrevocably against him? He cleared his throat, and said, “No, I am two inches taller than Helen. She tries to pretend that I am not, but it is true. Two inches, perhaps even a quarter of an inch more than two inches.”
“You and Helen will have magnificent children. It is difficult, as you well know, my boy, not to impregnate a woman. You will not kill my daughter with too many birthings, will you?”
Even as Lord Beecham shook his head and said “No, I will not,” he remembered that Helen couldn’t have children. She was barren. He felt a very deep shaft of pain, but he felt it for just a moment. In the grand scheme of things, his second cousin, a ship captain who lived in the colonies, in a place called Baltimore, could have his title, or one of his cousin’s male children could have it. He was a good fellow, he wouldn’t blight the Heatherington escutcheon.
But truth be told, Lord Beecham didn’t care what sort of a man his cousin was. He wanted Helen and he wanted her forever. It was the oddest thing. He was standing in Lord Prith’s dining room, Flock likely behind him in the shadows, not moving a muscle for fear of anyone realizing he was still in the room, and it didn’t matter a single whit. He felt wonderful. He felt whole.
“I will protect Helen with my life. I am not a pauper. She will have everything she could possibly desire. I have a beautiful country estate in Devon. Paledowns. She will love it there, all rugged hills and valleys and the coastline, all jagged and old, sir, so very old.” He shut his mouth on his poetic outpourings. He was losing what few wits remained to him. He would make his summation pithy. Show the depths of his ardor with a few witty words. He cleared his throat and opened his mouth, and what came out was, “I have never met a lady like your daughter. She is radiant, sir. I cannot imagine how I could be so very lucky as to have her leap at me from her horse’s back in Hyde Park and hurl me to the ground.” He cleared his throat. What had that come from? “Ah, Paledowns, sir, she will be happy there. She will also be happy in London. I have three other houses as well dotted over the northern landscape. She will doubtless approve of those as well. If she doesn’t, she can discipline the caretakers and change things until she is pleased.
“I will worship her, sir, until I cock up my toes and pass to the hereafter.”
Lord Prith said comfortably, “You don’t have to worry about things like that, my boy. My dearest Nell nests wherever she happens to find herself. Your home sounds like an excellent place for her, any and all of them. You know, now that I reflect upon things, my little girl did seem a bit on the quiet side whilst you were gone, my boy. Dare I say that she moped? Flock, are you still about, your ears all sharp?”
“Yes, my lord, but I have been staring at the epergne, my lord, wondering how best to clean all the little hidden crevices amongst all the grapes. I have barely heard a word anyone has said.”
“Good. Do you think that Miss Helen was moping—or is that too strong a word?”
“Miss Helen moped as I have also moped, my lord. I perhaps taught her through example how to mope properly. It is not too strong a word.”
“Good, I didn’t think