When the Marquess Met His Match
the lawyer in horror. “Landsdowne really does hate me. If I’ve ever doubted it, this gives me irrefutable proof.”
    “Lady Harriet is a wealthy heiress of excellent family and noble bloodlines,” Mr. Freebody went on, doggedly determined to carry on with this joke of a negotiation. “She meets all your father’s requirements.”
    “She doesn’t meet mine. Lady Harriet weighs more than I do. Fifteen stone, at least, the last time I saw her. God, man, she has hair on her lip. And her voice . . .” He shuddered.
    Mr. Freebody shot him a reproving glance, as if such considerations were completely irrelevant. “Lady Harriet’s father is an earl, her fortune is immense, her family has no debts or mortgages, and her connections are among the best in the land. In addition, her morals are above reproach.”
    “Of course they are,” he countered. “What chap would breach them?”
    “Lady Harriet has also indicated a willingness to overlook certain . . . peccadilloes, shall we say, in your past. It’s an excellent match, and your father feels that when the time comes, Lady Harriet will be an excellent duchess.”
    “If Landsdowne has his heart set on Lady Harriet, I advise him to marry her. I certainly shan’t.”
    “Should you prefer another, equally suitable young lady, I’m sure your father would agree, provided she meets with his approval.”
    “Well, that’s the sticky wicket, I fear. As you know, my father and I have such divergent opinions on the subject of suitability . . .” He paused to give the lawyer an apologetic look. “And since we’ve never agreed about anything else in our entire lives, it seems impossible that we should agree on my choice of bride.”
    “Very well. His Grace suggests that if Lady Harriet is not to your taste, you make a list of other young ladies more to your liking. He will be happy to consider them in his choice of bride for you.”
    Nicholas had heard enough. As a boy, his life had been controlled and manipulated by a man he barely knew, a man who had never been any sort of father to him, and he’d had little choice but to accept the situation. But he’d stopped being dictated to by Landsdowne the day Kathleen had departed for America with a sizable check from the ducal bank account, and he didn’t have to listen to anything the old man might have to say.
    “As much as I appreciate my father’s offer to choose my wife for me,” he said with a cheerful smile, “it won’t be necessary. I believe I can handle that task on my own.”
    “Can you? Doing the season is an expensive proposition,” Freebody pointed out. “You will need to lease a house, hire a carriage, and do a great deal of entertaining. With your income cut off, how will you manage?”
    “Credit, of course. How else?” Nicholas shrugged and resumed eating his kidneys and bacon. “Credit is a wonderful thing, Freebody. Bankers are willing to offer it to anybody with a title.”
    “Quite. Have you . . .” The lawyer paused and gave a tactful little cough. “Have you visited your bankers since your arrival?”
    Nicholas paused, feeling a sudden prickle of misgiving. “No,” he answered, and looked up, meeting Freebody’s gaze across the table. “Why?”
    “They might not be as willing to extend credit as you assume.”
    His misgivings grew stronger, and he began to wonder if Landsdowne’s latest interference in his life had only just begun. Still, it would never do to show a hint of alarm. “My bankers have never been mean about granting me credit when I have needed it.”
    “You do have debts at present.”
    “Yes, and an excellent history of paying my debts when they come due.” He gave up on breakfast, set down his knife and fork with a clatter, and shoved his plate aside. “What are you driving at, Freebody? Spit it out. Is Landsdowne threatening to force my bankers to deny me credit?”
    “I don’t believe he shall have to take that step.” The lawyer reached into the

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