How to Marry a Marble Marquis(8)

It’s not too late to set a better course for your life, Silas. The only obstacle you’ve ever had is your own bloody head. Put away these foolish plans of yours and start looking to the future of your legacy in a manner that doesn’t include bedding the wife of every other lord in the countryside.

And just as a reminder — you can’t even fucking swim.

In the event I do not return, all of my worldly possessions, most of which can be found on Dragonfly Island, are bequeathed to you, Lord Silas Stride, Marquis of Basingstone. Please do split the plunder with Maris accordingly.

Yours most affectionately,

Cadmus

Silas let out a hard breath. He wondered how Maris would fare being the recipient of Cadmus’s last will and testament as a signoff in every correspondence their brother sent. She’ll get used to it eventually.

The parcel that accompanied the letter contained a goblet carved from shell, the intricately designed seascape on its side breathtaking to behold. Within the goblet was a sack of coins. Silas tugged the cord, tipping the sack, letting them spill out on the desk. They were larger than the common gold Griffin in circulation, and upon his examination, he discovered they were brothel tokens, each one showing a number on one side, evidently the denomination, and a topless mermaid on the other, her voluptuous curves nearly overshadowed by the brightness of her smile. Laughing, he wondered if he would have the chance to make good use of these eventually.

Closing his eyes, he tipped his head back for a long moment, willing the pain in his head away before opening the top drawer of the desk, retrieving his quill and a clean sheet of foolscap. Dipping the nib into the pot of ink on the leather desk cover, he began to write.

Dearest brother,

Despite your wretched instance in closing each letter in a way that makes it sound as if you’re planning on putting your cock in the mouth of the nearest shark, I’m always relieved to receive correspondence from you. I wonder if the regular updates to your will are meant to make you feel better, or if you’re trying to entice me to Dragonfly Island to plunder your possessions in your absence.

There is indeed a letter waiting for you at Port Perico, you’ll be pleased to know. I believe, at the time of its posting, I had recently spent the day on a foreign rooftop after a rather infelicitous greeting by the Duke of Shoretham. The hospitality of his house was lacking, regrettably, but I had no such complaints over the hospitality of his wife.

Your assumption that I would find the conditions you outlined in your letter enjoyable is correct. I do hope the young woman wasn’t unduly injured in her accident, but the loss of the gag reflex is a seldom-found attribute in the London, and I am wickedly jealous of your luck.

I have returned to Basingstone for the week to settle some accounts and ensure Maris has everything she needs to be comfortable. Her pregnancy is progressing without issue, and she seems to be in good spirits, aside from haranguing me the instant my feet cross the threshold of the house. She has asked me, as she always does, to demand you to return home, but I don’t think she’s considering the state of her wardrobe if I were to do so.

It will come as no surprise to you that she is quite intent on finding me a wife. The Monster’s Ball is the final festivity on the calendar for the season, and she has already given me the ultimatum that I return home from that soirée affianced or else she will take matters into her own hands, finding me a wife as I found Luenn for her.

Since you have no issue signing off your correspondence with me in the most morbid way possible, I shall remind you of what I sent in my last letter — I have no intentions of marrying. My plan may seem foolhardy to you, but you have been at sea for far too long, and I read that ingesting sea water can turn a man’s mind. I beg you, bother — stop drinking the sea water. And what need have I for swimming? Isn’t that the whole bloody point of the ship?

I will be paying close attention to the Monster’s Ball this year, only not for the reason Maris hopes. I received correspondence from Efraim Ellingboe seeking my assistance in finding a husband for a young woman he has sponsored. You were such close friends with his eldest son, I felt compelled to meet with the girl, just to see what it was all about. I recognized her the instant I stepped into the room, although I am still unable to place from where. It has been itching at my mind for the past three days. I suppose this is the result of saying hello with my cock first for so many years, but I know that I know her somehow.

As it is, I have agreed to offer the girl tutelage in the fairer arts of seduction so that she may find herself a husband at the Monster’s Ball. I would not normally offer the gift of my time in such a way, but it is evident the family has fallen on hard times, and she is quite lovely to look upon. Who knows, perhaps I shall have the opportunity to sample her charms before handing her off to her husband.

I’m going to be visiting the Lady of Derrybrook this evening, as I know for a fact that her husband is not in residence. Although I suspect she will not possess the same sort of gag reflex deficit as your friend from the pleasure house, I can speak from experience that she is commendable in both her grip and enthusiasm.

Please see to it that your reprobate captain is expecting me eventually. I won’t demand to have the largest cabin on his ship, only that I have a servant of my own and that I’m free from any seafaring chores he might seek to give me. I do hope those brothel tokens are accepted without expiration.

Yours lovingly,