Page 2 of Modern Romance May 2026 Books 5-8
It wasn’t.
The Marchesi motto was, somewhat laughably,Guisto e Fidele. Fair and faithful.
A commendable aim and no doubt, in the fragmented geopolitical landscape of what would one day become Italy, the first Duca Marchesi had been eagerly and honestly pledging his allegiance to his prince. Perhaps he was also faithful to his wife. But Ettore’s forebears were notorious philanderers and unreliable in thought and word and deed.
For a moment, both men sipped their coffee in silence and then Carlo Biondi cleared his throat. ‘But enough about my health. It’s your father’s I came to talk about.’
‘You know as much as I do, Carlo. He’s incredibly secretive about his medical history. He’s over the worst. Probably if he follows the doctor’s orders, he’ll outlast us all.’
Carlo smiled stiffly. ‘I know you want to believe that, Ettore, but we both know that your father is living on borrowed time.’
Some might say his interest repayments were long overdue, given his fondness for fine wine and beautiful, younger women.
‘Which is why,’ the lawyer continued seamlessly, ‘it’s time to discuss the will.’
‘Has something changed?’
‘No. The estate in its entirety passes to the oldest living heir.’ Theavvocatomet his gaze. ‘Since your brother’s death, that is you. But you will have to satisfy the Corti-Marchesi clause.’
Ettore blinked. ‘The Corti-Marchesi clause?’ The phrase was unfamiliar. Why, then, did it make a shiver of apprehension skim over his skin?
Carlo had finished his coffee.
‘The clause is unswervable. It is enshrined in family tradition, but more importantly in law since the fifth duke decided that the responsibility of the estate was better suited to a married man.’
Married?
‘The wording is archaic, but, in modern language, to inherit the estate, and its associated title, you must be married before the death of the current duke.’
‘That’s barbaric. No court would uphold such a clause.’
Carlo shrugged. ‘I can assure you it’s legally watertight. Challenging it in court would be a time-consuming, attention-drawing act that would fail, I’m sure.’
‘And if I’m not married?’
The question hovered in the suddenly taut air between the two men.
‘Then it will become necessary to share the clause with the rest of the family at the reading of the will.’
In other words, his right to inherit would be open to his uncle.
The thought appalled him. He loved his uncle, but Frederico was idle and irresponsible and fiscally incompetent. Surely this had to be a joke. But Carlo wasn’t smiling. In fact, he had never looked more serious.
‘Why have I never heard of this clause before?’
Carlo shrugged. ‘Because it’s never been an issue before. Previous heirs have always been married prior to the incumbent duke’s death. Like your father. From memory, I’m not sure I even discussed the clause with him.’
Was that why Edoardo hadn’t said anything to him? Or was it because, for his father, Ettore was a useful tool. But not the child he would have picked to be his heir.
‘Try not to overthink this, Ettore. You’re of the age when you could reasonably be considering marriage. You’re a good-looking young man from a good family. Finding a wife is hardly going to be a problem.’
Wife. His fingertips bit into the fine porcelain. Even just hearing the word made his entire body tense. As the least-favoured child in his family, he had trained himself not to rise, never to reveal emotion.
But that was before he met Dulcie.
With her soft, muddled blonde hair and those blue eyes that made him feel as though he were drowning and skydiving all at once. She was intoxicating. And he had been intoxicated. Which frankly was the only reasonable explanation for what he had done.
For a moment, he pictured the fierce light in her eyes as she’d chosen her brother over him. Then he pushed the image away.
