her.
Trying to shrug off his dispirited mood, Jason picked up the nearly empty decanter. "So, then," he said, refilling both glasses. "Shall we drink to our new partnership? And to the hope that the Carlin heiress is all I've been promised?"
" Jase , are you certain about this? Just think of what you'll miss if you marry."
"The Carlin Line should provide me adequate entertainment, at least for a few years."
"Well . . . what about all the hearts you'll be breaking? There must be a dozen women on the catch for you here in London, not to mention Lisbon and Gibraltar and—"
"Not one I would consider marrying. Don't worry, my friend. I don't intend to lower my standards entirely."
Kyle hesitated, before suddenly grinning. "Hell, why not? If you're fool enough to marry Carlin's brat for her money, who am I to stop you?" He raised his glass in salute. "To the Carlin heiress. May she be comely and sweet-tempered and own a thousand ships.
"And to the Leucothea ," he added, after drinking deeply. "The best goddamned mistress a man ever had. You know, Jase , I'm getting the better end of the deal. I'd rather have the Leucothea than all the heiresses in Europe. Remind me to thank you sometime. Come to think of it, you'd best be on your guard till I sober up. I may very well end up kissing you before your bride does."
Remembering their conversation now as he stood on deck, Jason wondered if he should have gotten drunk, as Kyle had. Ordinarily they celebrated their victories their first night in port with a bottle and some female companionship, but for a reason Jason couldn't even name, he had postponed his departure from the ship. Yet all the liquor on board might not have been enough to dispel his heavy mood. His usual cheerful spirits had been steadily diminishing all evening—and he had no idea why. It was true that while Kyle had been mulling over loyalties, he had been giving more thought to his own future than he had in a great while. But his prospects didn't really concern him.
It wasn't even his father's autocratic arrangement of a marriage contract, since this actually wasn't the marquess's first attempt at getting him to settle down. In fact, Jason could admire his father's skillful manipulations, even when he himself was the victim.
For some years now, avoiding Lord Effing's machinations had been something of a game to Jason. Even though he had never been opposed to marriage, he preferred to choose his own bride and had no intention of rushing the business. He was willing to admit, however, that negotiating for the Carlin heiress had been a masterful stroke by the marquess .
During their discussion that morning, there had been no dissimulation between them; there had been no need, for father and son understood each other quite well. Lord Effing had known it wouldn't be the Carlin fortune itself that attracted Jason, but the appeal of controlling a vast shipping enterprise. And Jason had realized the concessions his father was making. Indeed, Jason had been rather amused to hear his sire advocating a union that had such distinct disadvantages: his future bride had not a drop of noble blood in her veins, and she was rumored to be of unsound mind at that.
Jason had accepted his father's assurances that the stories concerning the girl's insanity were without foundation. While the marquess might favor blue blood, he would draw the line at the possibility of either madness or imbecility in his descendants. But the shroud of secrecy itself intrigued Jason, just as his father had known it would. That, and lure of the Carlin ships, were strong enough inducements for him to consider the match.
He would have been a fool to do otherwise. And perhaps, Jason mused, it was possible that he and the Carlin heiress would suit. And if he would have to give up his own admittedly romantic ideal of the woman who would one day be his wife, the Carlin ships should be adequate compensation.
But that wasn't the source of the disquiet that
Janwillem van de Wetering