What the hell is going on?
When Charles entered this dining room, the last thing he expected was to become the center of attention, debating the merits of marriage with Horatio Burke. He had to have an angle; Charles just didn’t know what it was.
“You’re asking me, sir, the temperament I’m looking for in a wife? Do you have someone in mind?”
Burke smirked. “I might. Depends on how you answer.”
This was ridiculous. He cast a wild glance across the table at the duchess, hoping she’d agree. But she just waited, watching with quiet interest. He glanced to his left, noting the way Lady Madeline kept her gaze on her bowl of soup. She looked mortified, struck speechless by Burke’s odd behavior.
Charles had to put a stop to this. “I’m not looking for a wife,” he admitted. “I could hardly expect to court someone when I am due to start a new position in a month. My job must come first, sir.”
“And what if you didn’t have to work?” Burke pressed.
“What the hell are you on about now?” said the duke.
“I’m saying what if Bray could marry up? What if he married a lady…say with a dowry. A good one,” Burke added. “Enough that he could live as a proper gentleman instead.”
Charles snorted, sharing an incredulous look with James. “I’m sorry, but in what world would that ever be the case?”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Mr. Bray,” said the duchess.
“I am merely realistic, Your Grace,” he replied. “I have absolutely nothing to offer a lady. I have no name, no title, and hardly a shilling to my name. His Grace paid for my education, or at least his family did,” he added at the duke.
“We were happy to do it,” James replied. “You’re a bright man. You and David both. I know my father was happy to give you both your start.”
“And we are grateful,” Charles replied, meaning every word. “I owe my current profession to your father’s magnanimity. And any living I earn comes from the grace of the Church. It will never be enough to turn the head of a proper lady. Besides, I like to work. I like to be useful.”
“Not all ladies are as fastidious as you might think,” Burke replied. “Given the right provocation, I imagine a lady of standing would be eager to snap you up. And if you wanted to keep working that would be amenable to her, I’d imagine. What say you, Madeline?” he called down the table, making the lady jolt. “Would you condone a husband’s desire to keep working, even if his wife’s fortune could raise him in status to a gentleman?”
“I—don’t know, sir.” The poor girl’s cheeks were crimson as she clutched to her wine glass like it was a lifeline.
“Well, think on it,” Burke replied. “Best to know where you stand on such issues. What say you, Your Grace?”
The duchess nodded serenely. “I think to see a man working is always commendable and preferable to a life of kept idleness.”
“There you have it, Bray,” echoed Burke. “You could have it all—a wife, a fortune, and you could still make pretty little sermons to your heart’s content. What say you? Interested?”
Charles could do nothing but blink his astonishment. He was fighting the urge to leave the table and reenter the room, certain that he was caught in some kind of dream or spell.
What the bloody hell is happening?
“I…find I don’t quite know what to say to that, sir,” he admitted at last.
Burke leaned forward. “But suppose—”
“No,” James called, slapping down his spoon. “We’re done with this line of questioning. Burke, change the topic of conversation, or leave the table at once.”
Before Burke could argue, the footmen stepped forward, ready to change out the first course. Charles glanced down at his plate, wistfully wishing he’d been able to eat more than two bites of the delicious rabbit soup. He watched the footman take it away, exchanging it for the fish course. Not daring to hope the interrogation was over, he snatched up his fork, determined to eat at least a few bites of this decadent meal.
With his mouth full of cod, he nearly choked when Burke leaned down the table and said, “A man and woman having carnal relations before marriage…is it a sin, yes or no?”
The duke slammed down his fork. “Goddamn it, Burke. Leave!”
What the bloody fucking hell is going on?
