How to Marry a Marble Marquis(41)
He grit his teeth. “I am assisting her on behalf of Efraim Ellingboe. The earl contacted me many weeks ago, asking for my consultation in the matter of his near ward’s marriage prospects.”
“You know, it would be nice if you were to take as much interest in your own matrimonial future as you are for a stranger.”
“Lord Ellingboe is no stranger,” Silas snapped back. “The girl is charming and beautiful, and it was my duty as a gentleman to assist her in her aim.”
“Her aim,” Maris echoed, sniffing at her drink. “And what of your aim, brother? You know, I heard that Dame Marencragg is going to be visiting her youngest daughter in the highlands next month. It would be fortuitous to set up a —“
“No.”
“You’re not even —“
“I said no, Maris!“ His voice rumbled like a thunderclap, a tone he very rarely had needed to use and certainly never against his sweet baby sister. “I am not going to treat with another gargoyle clan. Get that out of your head. That only leads one way, Maris. There is only one ending to that scenario. I will not be the first Stride Marquis to not hold the front. I will not acquiesce a single pebble of land that our great-grandfather fought for. Fortune seekers and land barons, that’s all they are. Basingstone is home to more moth-folk than any other principality in the northlands. Do you have plans to rehome them all when you give up our birthright? Stop bringing it up because it’s not going to happen as long as I have breath in my lungs. If you want to be Marchioness so badly and acquiesce all that we hold the instant you wear the title, be my guest. You know where I sleep. Push me off the roof and have done with it, sweet sister.”
Across the table, his sister merely cocked an eyebrow. “Is this Miss Eastwick not a fortune seeker?”
“She is not,” he replied hotly. It didn’t matter if she had run warm and cold for the past week with him; it didn’t matter how often she brought up the other lords she might meet and marry. After all, that was what she was meant to be thinking of. Any feelings he had developed along the way were not her concern. Still, he would not sit idly by and allow her good name to be slandered, particularly under his own roof. “She is a charming young woman, vivacious and intelligent and extraordinarily talented. She’s looking for a husband, not a gold mine. She seeks to ensure her family’s security. Isn’t that the whole point of marriage?”
Silas felt hot; his collar suddenly unbearably tight. His cravat had turned into a noose, and his hands clutched at the desk, shaking with the effort to keep from pushing himself into a standing position and begin pacing about the room like a tiger. Across the desk, Maris looked entirely calm.
“You’re right, of course. I certainly cannot blame Miss Eastwick for wanting to secure her family’s future. Fate deals a heavy hand to the eldest daughter, always,” Maris sniffed. “I suppose I ought not to be surprised. You have always had a predilection for humans.”
”A preference, sister. A preference does not a predilection make. And are you now passing judgment on such matters? I was under the impression your only concern was seeing me married, to whom didn’t matter.”
“You’re right about that, Silas,” she sighed heavily. “I’d be satisfied to see you marry the teapot at this point. In any case, it doesn’t make a difference. The girl clearly has no love for you.”
He stiffened, wings rustling in annoyance. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means she can barely stand the sight of you. I daresay your reputation likely preceded you, brother. To your own point, this young woman is looking for a suitable match, sacrificing her freedom to lift her family into a better social stratum, just as a good daughter ought to; goddess knows it’s the only thing marriage is good for. She’s probably eager for you to keep your distance, rather than tainting her reputation by proximity. She is a respectable young woman, and she’s looking for a respectable gentleman, not one who puts a blight on his family name every time he opens his bloody trousers. A shame there’s something clearly wrong with her.”
At that, he could not help himself. He was on his feet before sense could prevail, launching himself across the room, hands clenched at his sides. “What kind of asinine declaration is that? Nothing is wrong with her! Why would you even say that?”
“She’s not going to the Monster’s Ball for no reason, Silas, for pity’s sake. There must be something —“
“Human men have no appreciation for the rarity of a woman like that,” he sneered. “She is beautiful and charming and witty and —“
“And talented, yes, you mentioned. Don’t forget vivacious. I believe you called her kind and gentle-hearted just yesterday. So I suppose my only question, dear brother, is why are you not marrying the girl? You’re quite obviously in love with her.”
Silas stopped short. The room was spinning. What the bloody fuck is in that ratafia? The walls were shrinking around him, and the shape of his sister seemed to grow in proportion. “I-I’m not . . . don’t be ridiculous ―”
“Silas,” she sighed, “it couldn’t be more bloody obvious if you wore a sign painted around your neck.”
“It doesn’t matter.” His voice was a low murmur, and suddenly, he was exhausted. “She’s gone. She’s going to the Monster’s Ball, and then she’ll be married to another.”