Page 36 of The Chef and the Countess

William entered the dining room to find his sluggard son eating breakfast at the table. “It’s not noon yet. Why are you up? And if you value your life, there better be ham left!”

“I wanted to talk to you,” Troy said, his mouth filled with food. “I did not touch your precious ham.”

William lifted the covers from the chafing dishes and began filling his plate with eggs, ham, and sausage. “About Hallahan, I suppose? Baldwin just informed me that he came by. Settle the blasted debt. You have received your monthly stipend. See it done.”

“I’m not paying that odious Irishman anything,” Troy said, popping another piece of bacon in his mouth. “He can send his bullyboy if he wants, but he’ll not get a penny from me.”

William rolled his eyes as he sat, and a footman came to his side to pour the tea. “Sean, leave us. We are not to be disturbed.” The footman bowed and closed the door behind him.

William cut into his ham, stuffed it in his mouth, and chewed. “I’ll not have bill collectors at my door. I have warned you of this. You said you would cease the gambling. How many other debts are there?”

“I have quit. I told you,” Troy whined. “It’s just this debt.”

“Then. Pay. It.”

Troy crossed his arms. “No. I won’t.”

William rolled his eyes in exasperation. The boy was thirty-three but still acted like a petulant child in short trousers. “I have reached the end of my rope with your various shenanigans. It’s your fault your mother swanned off on a winter holiday. You were at the core of all our arguments through the years. She said I indulged you and allowed your reprehensible behavior, especially when you were fifteen, and caught with a maid and the stable boy!”

William slammed his fist on the table. “This devil-may-care lifestyle is at its end. If you do not pick a suitable bride and are not married by the end of the summer, I will make your life a living hell, starting with cutting off your allowance and throwing you to the cobbles. You may inherit the earldom someday, but I will ensure you inherit as little as possible. This townhouse is in your mother’s name; I can sell it to keep it out of your hands. As for the investments, they are well hidden. You will never reap the benefits. All you will inherit is the title and the country home. You will have nothing to live on. Mark my words.”

Troy’s eyes narrowed. “All this over some petty gaming debt?”

“Clean out your ears, boy. It is the final straw. You will accept responsibility and find a wife, or I will select one for you. I need an heir to carry on the title. It’s time for you to fulfill your destiny. I never should have allowed you to drag Celia to that Irishman’s place of business. I did it in a fit of peevishness. That episode will be one more thing your mother will hold over me.”

“You want me to pick a bride? Fine. I pick Celia. She’s a tasty dish.” Troy gave him a smug look.

“She is your cousin,” William thundered.

“Cousins are allowed to marry. It’s not illegal.”

“Leave it to you to know of that particular legal tidbit. Your obsession with your cousin is unhealthy. Why do you think she was sent away to school? You couldn’t keep your blasted hands off her!” William exhaled. “And she’s barren. Ten years married to Winterwood and not an heir in sight. Forget her. Select someone else. You know what? Forget it. I will pick the lady. I may have to bribe the bride-to-be’s father, but there are enough peers mired in considerable debt to sell me their virgin daughter. You will be married by the summer. Once you get her with child and she bears a son, you can live your life as you please.”

Troy snarled, clearly agitated.

William cut his sausage and popped a piece into his mouth. “Now that is settled, tell me about Hallahan’s visit and what was said.”

“He threatened me. First, over the debt, then he had the gall to lay hands on me when I called Celia a bitch. And she is! She sent that muscle-bound Irishman to collect her trunks. That weasel butler allowed the footmen to take them to a waiting carriage. The gig was fancy, too, with a coat of arms on the door.”

William stopped in mid-chew. “A peerage carriage?” What the devil was Hallahan doing with an aristocrat’s conveyance? “Was he alone?”

“A fair-haired man with spectacles assisted the footmen in securing the trunks. I had never seen him before. Hallahan said he and his ex-boxer bully would be here next Sunday to collect.”

“Did he, indeed?” William murmured as he sipped his tea. “Leave it with me.”

“No. Hallahan insulted me. He must be made—”

“Do not interfere. You will stay out of this if you want to become more involved in my illegal smuggling businesses.” William picked up his knife and waved it at his son. “Agree to the marriage, and I will make you my partner. Then, you can make real money. Your money. Forget revenge. It is a useless diversion.”

William continued eating while casting glances at his brooding, stubborn son. Troy would not let this go. So William would use this as a test to see if Troy could finally grow up and accept responsibility.

Somehow, William doubted it.