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All this money, all the nights when he’d fought in the ring for money, all the rich widows he’d prostituted himself for, all the bets he’d made in rough establishments had been for nothing.

“I could have married someone by now,” Nathaniel rumbled. “I could have fathered an heir. All these years, Cadden, for nothing.”

Cadden nodded. At least he had a decency to look sheepish when he had just basically destroyed Nathaniel’s sisters’ futures. “I understand how frustrating this must be for you, Your Grace. You gave me until your twenty-ninth birthday to resolve this legally and find a way to overturn the will. But please remember, I never guaranteed you that result. You simply must be married and have fathered an heir within one year.”

Nathaniel slumped down onto the sofa, which gave a dangerous creak. He hid his head in his hands, his fingers digging into his long hair. Desperation clenched his whole being in a cold vise.

“The heir must be born within one year,” said Nathaniel. “Which means, I only have three months to find a wife and get her pregnant. Or my sisters and I will be forced to sell this house, the last thing we have of value. My sisters don’t deserve this. They will be destined to live like paupers for the rest of their lives.”

It was like being a thirsty man next to a trough of water and not being able to take one sip.

The money was there.

He just couldn’t touch it.

“It looks like your father achieved what he desired,” said Cadden. “He forced you to marry and have a family. I must confess, I’ve always wondered why you went through such an effort to avoid marriage when it could solve everything. I’m married and have children. Most people are. Why would it be so bad for you, Your Grace?”

Nathaniel’s mind raced to the day that had changed his whole life. The day his mother had died because of him. The day he had realized he couldn’t protect people.

“It would not be bad for me, Cadden,” he said somberly. “It would be bad for them.”

5

Two days later…

“What the devil were you thinking, sister?”

Preston stormed into the drawing room of Sumhall. Grandmama looked up from her cards and followed him with her eyes, a single eyebrow raised. Miss Furrington, who lay in a furry ball right on the card table, lazily observing Calliope and Grandmama’s game, raised her head, the tip of her tail twitching.

Uneasiness stirred in Calliope’s gut. After she’d left the Admiralty, she’d thrown herself into research, finding old papers with the news from both fronts, and looking through all the books she could find in Sumhall’s library on naval ships and warfare. But, although she now knew about the overall course of both wars and had more general knowledge about the navy, nothing had given her a single clue about where Spencer could be.

She wished she knew more about Spencer’s claim that he was being followed. But he’d only mentioned it to Richard in passing a short time before his disappearance, and there were no more details to follow up on.

The only way to make any progress was to go back to the Admiralty and find those ledgers.

“If it’s about Huntingham,” she said, “or any other lord you have in mind, I’m not interested in marriage.”

Grandmama laid her cards on the table, picked up the teapot, and poured more tea into their cups, adding one for Preston. Miss Furrington sniffed the air and stared at the elegant milk jug, which Grandmama closed with a lid. “Preston, dear, I know you mean well, but I can’t help but agree with Calliope. She did tell you.”

Preston pinched the bridge of his nose. “That is not what I’m talking about. Although now you may have to marry Huntingham.” Preston sighed and looked at Grandmama. “I didn’t want to mention this in front of you.”

Grandmama’s face lost all humor. “Then you should most definitely do so.”

“Calliope,” Preston said as he came closer to her, “the truth is, you really should be looking for a husband. And Huntingham, whom you have known you since you were a girl, will be more inclined to dismiss the gossip about you.”

“What gossip?” demanded Grandmama.

Calliope didn’t care about gossip, but she had a suspicion what it might be.

Preston took the third chair at the table. “There’s talk among navy officers that the Duke of Kelford may have ruined Calliope.”

Grandmama gasped, and Calliope suppressed a curse. Preston had heard that after only two days? She hadn’t thought it would spread so quickly. She’d hoped the officers would forget about her visit as soon as she left—surely, they had more important things to do than gossip. Apparently, she was wrong.

“I remember you danced with the man,” said Grandmama. “But ruined?”

Preston glared at Calliope. “I know you’re not ruined. You know better than that. The whole thing is ridiculous. They say you came to see him in the Admiralty alone. That can’t be right, can it, Calliope? You wouldn’t be so naive.”

Calliope raised one eyebrow. “I wasn’t naive. But yes, I was in the Admiralty because I was lost.”