Page 9 of A Marriage of Necessity

Kennedy gave a slow nod. “Your information is uncannily accurate.”

A smile tugged at Sir Stirling’s mouth. “This is more of an impression than information I have gleaned. I don’t know your father well. In fact, I’ve met him but twice, and the last time I saw him was five years ago at a soirée in London. He is a man who is certain of his place in the world, and the impression he will leave behind.”

“You almost make him sound noble.”

“He’s your father, and I would not speak ill of—”

“I have no illusions as to what sort of man my father is,” Kennedy cut in.

Stirling gave a slow nod. “He cares a great deal about how he is viewed by the world. By you and your son carrying on his title, he believes part of him will live on. That is not an unnatural feeling. However, he might consider your successes and even your son’s successes to be a result of his actions.”

“It’s more than that,” Kennedy said more to himself than Stirling. “Even now, with one foot in the grave, he can’t stand to have Society view him as weak. He must be the ever-constant force that keeps the world in motion.”

Stirling smiled, and Kennedy was surprised at the compassion he read in the man’s eyes. “What a shame that he’s wasted his life on meaningless pursuits, instead of caring for the one person whose world did revolve around him, if only for a little while.”

Kennedy felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. What tiny bit of love that had remained after his father tore him from his mother’s deathbed and sent him to university a year ahead of schedule, he’d killed when he’d married Jacqueline. Kennedy barely remembered the days when he’d worshiped his father. Yet those feelings cut like a knife.

“Of course, your father assumes you will choose from the pool of ladies with whom you are acquainted.”

Kennedy realized Stirling was speaking. “What? Oh, yes, I must marry a woman of breeding. He was very clear on that point.”

“This lady will fulfill that qualification. She is, in fact, Viscountess Kinsely, heir to the title. Her father died with no male heir.”

“A second title in the bargain,” Kennedy murmured. “You are correct, that would please my father.”

“It would please him even more if he thought the idea was his,” Stirling said.

Kennedy frowned. “What do you mean?

“I mean, if your father decided who you should marry…” His words trailed off and he shrugged.

In truth, Kennedy was surprised his father hadn’t chosen his bride. “How will my father come to this conclusion?” he asked.

Stirling grinned. “Leave that to me.”

“I can take no chances,” Kennedy said.

“Of course not.” Stirling rose. “I would guess that you’ll hear from your father by tomorrow.”

Kennedy stood. “How do you plan on making him think this was his idea?”

Stirling shrugged. “Very simple, really. All that must happen is for him to learn of the lady’s existence. He will be unable to refrain from interfering.”

* * *

The carriage slowed, and Anne caught sight of a massive stone mansion through the window. She had to be dreaming. The last two nights she’d lain awake searching for a plan that would save her home and her family. Nothing short of ten thousand pounds would ensure they had a chance at survival. Two hours ago, she’d received a note. A summons, really. The Earl of Buchanan requested—commanded—her appearance at his home at three for the purpose of… Despite the presence of the maid sitting across from her, Anne couldn’t help pulling the note from her reticule and reading it for the hundredth time. …arrange a betrothal between you and my son, Viscount Buchanan.

A hundred questions swirled inside her head. Why couldn’t his son find a wife? Why did the Earl want to marry her to his son? How had the Earl heard of her? She was the daughter of an impoverished viscount who didn’t move in Society. She couldn’t remember the last time her father had visited Edinburgh. Had the Earl not heard the terrible rumors about her? Maybe he had, but his son couldn’t get anyone better than an unfaithful woman. Her head felt near to bursting with questions.

The coach tipped slightly and in the next instance, the door opened. Anne extended her hand and allowed the footman to help her to the ground, then he helped her companion. Lady Peddington had insisted the maid accompany her. In truth, Anne was glad for her presence, even if her companion couldn’t offer any advice.

The footman closed the coach door and Anne nodded her thanks, then walked with the maid up the walkway to the door. She knocked. A moment later, the door opened and a footman led them to a large parlor where they settled on a divan. Anne’s heart began to pound and her hands sweated inside her gloves. She had not the slightest idea what to expect. How she wished Lady Peddington had come with her, but other duties prohibited her from accompanying Anne.

The door opened and a short, thin man entered. Anne rose and Molly followed her example.

“I am Mr. Spector, my lady.” He bowed. “His lordship’s solicitor.”

Anne looked past him at the open door.