Page 38 of The Notorious Lord Sin
He had been such a prig, a selfish, disdainful lord. He could barely stand to think upon the boy he used to be. The one who used people and turned away without a backward glance. Paris was proof of that alone. But she was not his only sufferer. His family, too, would mourn from his carelessness.
"It is all gone, and the only reason I have not lost the estate and the London house is because I cannot sell it. We will all need to marry well."
"Is that why you're courting Miss Smith? Because you believe she has the money to save us?" his mother scoffed, glaring at him. "I do not care that her husband left her a dime. We do not want anything from her. The Viscounts of Astoridge only ever marry women of rank and fortune. Not a woman who married money and yielded from her husband's early death."
"You know that Paris and I have a past that goes back far further than her marriage or my losing our fortune."
"Look to Lady Esme. She's an heiress, has never been married, and is from a wonderful earldom. She will pull our family back to where it ought to be, and she is favorable toward you. I have watched her at several balls and parties and she's always following you about with her eyes. I think she would complement you well."
"I do not want a wife who complements me, Mother," he spat, unwilling to do what would make him unhappy. "I wish to marry for love. Why is that so hard for you to understand?" He wished she did not always have to see people for their monetary value instead of their inner worth. "I'm going to ask Lady Hervey to marry me, and I'm going to tell her that I come with nothing other than my title and two houses that are expensive to run. You need to accept this and stop your rudeness toward her. She is going to be your daughter-in-law, should she have me."
His mother laughed, a high-pitched sound filled with alarm. "Marry? Miss Smith?" she spat again. "Do not be absurd, Dominic. She is a nobody, a woman with no family or fortune, and from a small country town that no one cares to know. She lived outside the village in a cottage, for heaven's sake. Who has ever heard of the Astoridges marrying such lowly people? Had she not married Lord Hervey, she would have ended a governess or a lady’s maid or some gentleman's whore."
"I will not have her spoken of in that manner," he yelled, standing and leaning over his desk, anger thrumming through him like a drum. " She is a good, honorable woman. Better than either of us, and you will respect her. You will be kind and generous to her, for if she agrees to marry me, as poor as I am, you will owe your comfortable life to her."
"So you are marrying her just because she is rich, not for love at all?" his mother scoffed, shaking her head. "You foolish man. First, you lose all of the money our family relies on, and then you mock us further by marrying a woman who is wealthy, yes, but poor in every way that matters. My grandchildren will one day ask about their heritage, and what will she tell them, that she is a country girl from Grafton? That she was lucky enough to be friends with the Woodvilles, who sponsored her for a Season? Your children will be seen as less than what they should be because of the blood that runs through their veins. It is not enough that you make us insolvent, but then you mock us further with wanting to marry the cunning baggage."
Dominic prayed for patience before he said or did something he regretted. "If you cannot accept my choice as master of this household and as Viscount Astoridge, then you ought to make preparations to return to Surrey. You are not welcome here if you are going to be rude and uncouth. I will not have anything stop me from marrying Paris. I love her," he admitted, curious as to how easy that was to say aloud, even to his parent. "I need her to be the next Viscountess Astoridge because she should have always been Viscountess Astoridge. I believe that she loves me in return and will accept my proposal. I could not have her not accept me, for my life would hold no value if I were to lose her a second time."
His mother scoffed and strode to the door. "Oh please, Dominic. Are you a foolish burr who's crying over the past like a child? Do be serious and start thinking better than you are. She is not worth this family's time. She has never been, and you need to think of more than your pathetic heart or cock, which seems to be guiding you these days."
"Good afternoon, Mother. Shut the door on your way out, and do remember what I said. Reconcile with my choice or leave."
She threw him a smile that he had never seen before, giving him pause. "Oh, I'm not going anywhere. Good day to you, son," she said, walking from the room.
Dominic slumped back into his chair. Tonight he would ask Paris, and she would forgive him, believe him that his heart was true. He could not think any other way, no matter what his parent thought.
ChapterTwenty-Two
"The Dowager Viscountess Astoridge to see you, Lady Hervey."
Paris turned and looked past her butler to Lady Astoridge, who stood behind her servant, a bored and annoyed expression on her sour face at being held at the door's threshold rather than being allowed entry straightaway.
"Thank you," she said. "Please send her in." Paris stood and placed down theLa Belle Assembléeshe was flipping through on the settee before turning to greet the dowager.
Not that she believed her ladyship's visit to her today would be pleasant or end with them, friends. Her ladyship looked as if she were walking into war, and Paris schooled her features, not wanting the dowager to think she had any power over her, not in any way.
For she did not.
She was a countess now. A rich widow with an heir. Lady Astoridge could not touch her now.
"Thank you for allowing me to call," the dowager said, walking about the room as if this were her own private parlor and not Paris's at all.
"Well, had I known you were going to call, I'm certain you would have known I would not have allowed you entry. But you're here now, so do sit down. I'm certain there is something that you wish to say to me, although I cannot imagine what. We have so very little in common."
The dowager chuckled, nodding at her words. "Oh yes, and you do use the correct term, Miss Smith, for you are common, no matter that you married Lord Hervey." The dowager came and sat on a settee, taking in the room further. "I remember this house from when the late earl's mother used to hold routs here. I see you have not redecorated, but then I suppose a woman from a small country village would not know much when it came to fashion."
Paris smiled, but in truth, she wanted to scratch the woman's cold and icy eyes out. How could someone loathe another merely because they had come from less than what she believed she ought?
"Are we to throw insults back and forth all day, my lady? Or is there something else you wish to discuss with me? We both know you're not here to make amends," she said, clasping her hands in her lap.
The dowager met her eyes and smirked. "Why, yes, there is something that I wish to discuss with you, Miss Smith. And I think you ought to listen to what I have to say before another word is spoken."
Paris sighed but nodded in agreement. Something in the tone of the woman's words made her stomach churn, and she had a dreadful sensation course through her as if something was wrong.
"I'm listening, my lady. You may begin," she advised.
Lady Astoridge collected herself and crossed her hands in her lap. "I was informed today that my son is in love with you and intends to ask you to be the next Viscountess Astoridge."
