The Princess & the Pea (3 page)

He widened his eyes in stunned disbelief. "You are telling me that every one of those women, young, for the most part lovely, and each with a dowry that could revive the legacy of Graystone, has been disregarded because of the most minuscule, insignificant reasons it has ever been my misfortune to hear?"

"Jared." Olivia frowned and rose to her feet. "They are not insignificant. Besides, there are other reasons why they were not suitable. Each and every one of them failed to pass my te—" her eyes widened in dismay—"er ... my requirements. My standards."

Abruptly, his failures in these last months of tentative flirtations and cautious courting made sense. Amazement swept through him. "You've been testing them?"

"In a manner of speaking ..." Olivia paused, as if groping for words, and Jared suspected for once her hesitation was not an act.

"What kind of tests?" he said through clenched teeth.

"Oh, the usual. This and that." Olivia gestured vaguely. "Questions only a mother could properly judge coupled with quite a bit of basic observation. You understand."

"I most certainly do not." He clenched his fists at his sides in an effort to keep his growing outrage under control. "Regardless of their faults—and it is fair to say those faults are minimal—each and every one of my prospective brides has had the one inestimable quality I need in a wife. Money. Resources. Vast wealth. It is not a whimsical desire, an idle wish. You and I both know survival is questionable without a substantial infusion of funds, and the sooner the better."

"Of course I know all that." Olivia's eyes sparked. "But I refuse to settle merely because some young woman is the highest bidder. And an American no less. Why can't you find a nice British heiress?"

Jared sighed wearily. "British heiresses are few and far between these days. There is an agricultural depression you know, Mother."

"Nonetheless, your title is your inheritance, much the same as the wealth of some American heiress is hers. There has been an Earl of Graystone for nearly five hundred years."

"Indeed," he said sharply, "and marrying for money seems to have been quite a family tradition for most of them. I am simply carrying on a heritage."

She glared. "Still, you are the proud bearer of a legacy far more valuable than mere money. You are the twenty-first Earl of Graystone. No price can be put on that."

"I beg to differ, Mother." Sarcasm rang in his voice. "There is a price today and it is fairly reasonable. It's merely the amount needed to sustain this building, my townhouse, the estate and Graystone Castle." He laughed bitterly. "An American heiress with a shrewd eye for a bargain will have little trouble seeing she is getting her money's worth."

"If James hadn't died—" Olivia clapped her hand to her mouth, her eyes wide with obvious distress. "Jared, I—"

"Never mind, Mother." He ran his fingers through his hair in a gesture of futility and resignation. "I know. If James hadn't died ..."

Until James's death, barely a year ago, neither Jared nor Olivia had suspected the dire depths to which the family fortune had sunk. With adept juggling and clever management his older brother had somehow maneuvered to allow Jared and his mother to continue their affluent styles of living. Olivia had remained ensconced in the Berkeley Square mansion. Jared had occupied his own townhouse in a less distinguished but still eminently respectable neighborhood and proceeded to dally with actresses and dancers until his public reputation was both impressive and exaggerated. James had even managed to come up with the extra blunt to support Jared's secret passion, his private dream.

"I am sorry, Jared." Olrvia said quietly. "I know how difficult it is for you to take your brother's place. You were so close as children."

"We were close as adults as well." James was not merely the holder of the title and head of the family; he was an elder brother to look up to and the only person, outside of his partner, who knew Jared's secret. "I could tell James anything. Apparently he did not feel the same, at least in regard to the family finances."

Jared wished he could talk to James now. Wished he could ask how in the bloody hell he could avoid this specter of imminent financial ruin. Marriage seemed the only possible solution. He could see another answer, but it was too far in the distant future, too unlikely, too much of an implausible illusion to provide more than a dim glimmer of hope.

He shook his head slowly. "He would have known what to do. I just wish I was half as competent and capable as he was."

"You are, Jared." she said softly.

He flashed her a brief smile. "Thank you. Mother." His tone hardened. "I want you to understand one thing, I shall tolerate no more interference in this marriage business. I am twenty-seven, an adult: the earl, as you've pointed out. The next moderately acceptable American heiress to come along will be my bride for better or worse. And remember, I will not be the first to wed an American. Already, a new generation of offspring of British-American matches is making its presence known." He grinned reluctantly. "I suspect the American influence will be a factor in England well into the next century."

Olivia expelled a sigh of acquiescence and smiled bravely. "God help the British."

"London? Poppycock." Henry White said gruffly from behind his morning paper. "I see no need to travel halfway across the world to find a husband. There are plenty of good prospects right here in Chicago. Take that fine young man Clarence Hillsdale. Why, he's—"

"He has no chin, Father." Cece blurted.

"No chin?" The unconcerned voice remained hidden by the
Times-Herald.
Cece suspected her father paid far more attention to the financial section than to her. "I hadn't noticed, but it doesn't seem a critical factor in a husband. A chin isn't necessary to get an heir."

"Oh no, Father." She winked at the maid hovering behind her father's chair. An earnest tone colored her words. "Without a chin his collar creeps right up his face. Why, half the time I have no idea what Clarence is saying, his mouth is so muffled by his shirt. A chin would anchor his collar in place quite nicely."

"Just so, my dear.... What did you say?" The paper collapsed in a crush of newsprint and Henry stared at his oldest daughter in confusion. Cece favored him with an innocent smile. "I see. Sorry." Her father's expression shifted to a look of amused chagrin. "You now have my complete and undivided attention."

"Thank you." she said primly.

"Henry, I think a trip to London is a wonderful idea." Phoebe White glanced pointedly at her daughter. "I think it's exactly what Cece needs and Emily, too, for that matter." A wistful expression flashed across her face. "I still remember my sojourn in London as if it was yesterday. A truly delightful season."

Henry's dark brows drew together in annoyance. "Delightful seasons can be had right here at home."

"Of course they can, Father." Cece said quickly. This was not the time to irritate her father by casting aspersions on his favorite city. "Chicago is one of the very best places anywhere. And didn't we prove that with the World Exposition?"

"By George, we certainly did." Satisfaction rang in his voice. "Two years later and they're still talking about it."

"Exactly." Cece nodded.

"Exactly ... what?" The look of confusion had returned. Cece smiled to herself. She was thoroughly familiar with her father's expressions. The more befuddled she managed to get him. the better her chances of achieving what she wanted.

"Exactly why going abroad is such a wonderful idea." She tossed him a smug smile.

Henry glanced at his wife, who simply shrugged in resignation. She, too, was used to her daughter's convoluted way of thinking.

"I must be a little muddleheaded this morning." he said, his words cautious and deliberate. "Explain to me the reasoning behind this wonderful idea. In words your poor, stupid father can understand."

"Well." She breathed deeply and prayed for inspiration. "You and I both know this is the best country in the world, even if England and the rest of Europe are ever so much older. But since we are young we don't have silly little things like nobility and titles and such." Her words came faster and faster, in the belief that sheer speed alone would counter any flaws in her argument. "Still, it would be great fun, don't you flunk? To have one, I mean. And quite exciting for you and Mother, too, to have a prince or a duke in the family."

"Thank you for your concern for your mother and me." Sarcasm dripped off Henry's words. "But I scarcely think 'fun' is an appropriate reason to head to the other side of the globe."

Cece threw her mother a silent appeal for help. Phoebe merely smiled in encouragement. She was on her own.

"Very well, Father," she said, in her best no-nonsense voice. Henry's brow quirked upward at her tone. "Let's look at this realistically."

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth and he gestured for her to continue. "Please, go right ahead."

"Thank you." Her voice was brisk. "I fear I shall never find a husband in Chicago." Henry opened his mouth in protest and she waved him aside. "Oh, I know what you're going to say. I've had offers, dozens in fact. And that's true. But no one, I felt, who could live up to the standards you'd expect from a son-in-law."

"There's Clarence."

"He has no chin." Mother and daughter chorused.

Henry rolled his eyes heavenward. Cece ignored him.

"I simply feel that my chances might be better in a new city, another country." She threw her father a mournful look. "I fear otherwise." she sighed deeply. "I shall never marry."

Henry stared in amazement for a long moment. He shook his head in disbelief. "That was good. Very good. Excellent." He glanced at his wife. "Does she get that from your side of the family or mine? Although I doubt my side has ever seen dramatics quite this impressive."

"Father!" Cece resisted the urge to stamp her foot.

"Henry." Phoebe said mildly, "haven't you always said you wanted to take me to Paris one day?"

Henry groaned. "First London, now Paris. What's next? China?"

"China would be interesting." Cece murmured.

"Don't be silly, Henry." Phoebe chided her husband. "No one said anything about China. But England is more than respectable for a young lady, and the prospects here do seem to be getting dimmer day by day. I don't relish the idea of a spinster for a daughter, and I quite like the thought of a title in the family. It would do Emily good, as well, to see what life is like in a stimulating world capital of culture and society. And Paris is practically next door to London. Besides, I could see my dear friend Millie." Phoebe leaned toward Cece in a confidential manner. "I haven't seen her in—my goodness, it must be more than twenty years now. We do exchange letters though."

Cece smiled patiently. "I know, Mother."

"Henry." Phoebe's manner was abruptly decisive. "The more I think about it, the more I like the proposal."

Surprise washed over Henry's face. Phoebe rarely insisted on anything. Cece stifled a triumphant grin.

With her mother on her side, her father might as well give up right now.

"I have business to attend to here," he growled.

"Nonsense." Phoebe waved away the objection. "You have hundreds of highly qualified people more than capable of taking over for a few months. It's past time you took a good, long holiday."

"But I hardly think—" Henry's gaze flicked from wife to daughter and back.

"I think we should start packing." Phoebe threw him a challenging glare.

Henry had the look of a man realizing his fate was sealed.

"Please, Father." Cece held her breath.

He threw up his hands in defeat. "I give up, you win." He glared at his wife. "Both of you."

"Of course we do." his mate said pleasantly.

Cece sprang from her chair and threw her arms around her father. "Thank you, Father. You won't be sorry."

"I suspect I'll be very sorry," he grumbled.

Mother and daughter exchanged satisfied smiles, and Cece turned to go find Emily. Her sister had agreed not to tell their parents Cece's ultimate purpose but had refused to come help her talk her father into the trip. Just wait till she heard how very easy it had been after all. thanks to Mother.

She tossed a final comment over her shoulder. "We'll have a wonderful time, all of us. And I'm sure I shall find someone suitable, someone who would do us all proud."

Cece stepped out of the breakfast room and for a fleeting moment wondered just how broad the Earl of Graystone's shoulders really were. She barely heard her father's last words trailing after her. "God help the British."