he were a sneak thief, perhaps taking their cue down the leashes. This had to stop.
âTake the dogs to the dowager Lady Dauntry,â Dauntry told an impassive footman. âIsabella, a word with you.â
He indicated the library.
She gave him an icy glare, but she went into the room. Heâd seen wariness beneath the glare, so he spoke gently.
âIsabella, I understand that you are upset by all thatâs happened, but perhaps it hasnât been made clear to you that I am not the worst result.â
She stared at a bookcase, the perfect image of a rude child. She was nearly seventeen. She was a pretty girl with dark curls, a clear complexion, and vivid coloring, and would have no difficulty in finding a husband, especially with her large dowry. One of the complicating factors to his inheritance was that on his deathbed, the fifth viscount had put all the unentailed property and funds into Isabellaâs already generous portion. It was an understandable action from a father whose son had died, leaving only a daughter, but it made the viscountcy much poorer than it should be. Braydon wished Isabella well, however, and would do what he could to steer her into a happy life.
He kept his tone moderate. âIf I didnât exist, the title and entailed property, including this house, would have already reverted to the Crown, and you would have had to leave.â
She swiveled her head to look at him. âThatâs not true. The Regent would have promised to grant my husband the title.â
âHighly unlikely.â
âGrandmama is a friend of the queen.â
That was putting it too strong, but the dowager had been a lady-in-waiting for many years, and Queen Charlotte had sent a personal letter of sympathy.
So this had been the hope lurking here between the fifth viscountâs death and the confirmation of his owninheritance. He should have confronted Isabella sooner. The detail changed nothing, but now he could deal with the issue.
âSuch a matter would be complex,â he said, âand itâs more likely that the title would have been restored, if at all, for your oldest son when he was of age. In the intervening decades, you and the dowager would have to live elsewhere.â
He saw a flicker of uncertainty, but she shrugged.
âNow Iâm in place,â he said, âall such matters are moot.â
âThatâs why you are going to marry me.â
Heâd suspected this plan and was glad to be able to scotch it. âNo, Iâm not.â
âYouâll have to,â she said with a smug smile, âor youâll be dreadfully penny pinched. I have most of the money.â
He could tell her that he had a fortune of his own, but he saw a better way. âThen Iâll be obliged to sell off most of the extravagant bits and pieces the dowager has wasted money on over the decades.â
The girlâs chin dropped.
Report that back to your grandmother, and I hope it chokes her.
The dowager was the enemy here, however, and Isabella merely a foot soldier. If Isabella had been a French spyâand some had been as young and prettyâheâd know how to handle her, but nothing in his army experience or since had prepared him for Beauchamp Abbey and its female combatants. Heâd put his faith in sensible Mrs. Cateril, damn her.
He attempted reason. âI canât imagine that you want to marry me, Isabella.â
âThis is my home,â she declared, âand our family blood must continue here. It is
right
that it continue here.â
âI have the Braydon blood,â he pointed out. âYouâre talking of the Godyson blood, and that only came herewith your grandmother. You will carry that to some other grand estate.â
She had been well indoctrinated âYouâll break Grandmamaâs heart!â she cried. âShe made Beauchamp Abbey what it is.â Here came the tears, which she seemed able to