Outlaw’s Bride (40 page)

“Sixteen, ma’am.”

Daisy’s mouth dropped open. She quickly snapped it shut. She put a hand to her breast in an attempt to calm herself, since her agitation was making her gasp, a dangerous proposition in such a tightly laced corset. “You were
married
at sixteen, Your Grace?” she questioned breathlessly.

“I’ve never had a wife.”

Daisy’s heart skipped a beat. “Then the boy is—”

“A bastard. Like myself, ma’am. And my heir.”

“But … but …”

“He can’t inherit the title, of course. But the solicitor who found me in America—Phipps, I think, was his name—assured me that neither Severn Manor nor the house in London is entailed. The property and the
funds that support them are entirely mine, to do with as I choose, to dispose of as I will.”

“Are you implying that you might actually
sell
Severn Manor?” Daisy asked incredulously. “This house has been the home of Windermeres for generations!”

“As we’ve already established, I’m not a Windermere. Their heritage isn’t mine. Therefore, I see no reason why I shouldn’t sell.”

“No reason!” Daisy was aghast. All her worst nightmares were coming true. “What about the servants? What about the tenant farmers? What will happen to them?”

“Their plight, ma’am is no concern of mine.”

She made one last plea for reason. “What about the title, Your Grace? Surely you wouldn’t wish to see the next duke left destitute.”

“Since he’ll be no relation to mine, I don’t see why I should care,” he said with a shrug. “I’m an American, ma’am. I have no use for titles or the fawning behavior that goes along with them.”

“But when you marry—”

The aggravating man interrupted her yet again. His eyes, if possible, turned even colder. “I will never marry, ma’am. You can
be sure of that! Now that you’ve satisfied your curiosity—and I’ve satisfied mine,” he added with a rueful twist of his mouth, “this interview is concluded.”

“But—”

“You are dismissed, ma’am.”

Daisy stared in disbelief as the uncouth barbarian turned his back on her once more. He had interrupted her once too often. Her auburn curls bounced in indignation, and her eyes flashed with emerald fire.

“You may be done with me,
Your Grace
,” she said between gritted teeth, “but I haven’t even begun with you!”