Page 100 of The Duke Undone

He continued carefully. “You agree I have satisfied my father’s conditions. I see no reason I shouldn’t assume full control of my affairs this very day.”

A champagne bottle popped. Yardley filled a flute and handed it to him. He took it numbly.

“It’s a special day,” said Yardley, passing champagne to the solicitors. He was dressed in an exquisite gray suit elegantly offset by the rich leather of his chair. He smiled.

“Your father would have been proud,” he said.

“Spare me.” Anthony took a swallow of champagne, to rinse the bitterness from his mouth, and set the glass aside.

Hamilton shuffled papers, produced one, and handed it to him in silence. The print swam before Anthony’s eyes. His rage knew no bounds.

“What’s the meaning of this?”

The solicitors hesitated until Yardley spoke into the silence.

“Your father wanted to exert a positive influence on your life, not merely impose prohibitions. A respectable home life will provide you with the strong and stable foundation you need to continue to make responsible decisions. None of us knew he’d written a second codicil to that effect until last week. I was organizing his financial papers, to help with the transition, and I discovered it. Of course, I brought it here straightaway, so Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Johnstone could ascertain if it was operative. Which—I defer to you, gentlemen”—he tipped his head toward the solicitors—“it does seem to be. Dated, signed, witnessed.”

Anthony couldn’t look at him. He leapt to his feet, addressing himself to Hamilton.

“This paper,” he said, shaking it so hard the edge tore, “continues the trusteeship of Mr. Yardley.”

“Until you marry, yes,” said Hamilton, sighing. “Do sit down, Your Grace.”

Anthony stabbed at the paper with his finger. “Not just marry. Marry a woman of unimpeachable moral character and good breeding.”

Johnstone smiled patiently. “Marriage is sacred, of course, and limitations placed on the right to marry aren’t always enforceable. But the court does uphold provisions that facilitate a prosperous and sober union, particularly if the delimited category of potential spouses contains a reasonable number of options. That’s the case here. No one would argue there aren’t many fine women of unimpeachable moral character and good breeding for you to choose among.”

Anthony’s laughter sounded unraveled, even to his own ears. “Do I decide if the woman fits the criteria?”

“No.” Hamilton cut his eyes at Yardley. “The consent of a neutral designee of excellent reputation is required. If you finish reading, you’ll see that your father specified Lord Southgate.”

“Neutral.” Anthony shook his head. “Southgate was my father’s crony and is now his crony.” He turned to Yardley and his voice rose. “How many votes have you wrangled for Southgate? What favors does he owe you?”

Yardley looked blandly at the solicitors.

“You see how he needs a tempering influence,” he murmured.

“I’m sorry this comes as such an unpleasant surprise.” Johnstone leaned over his desk. “Perhaps you’ll come to see it differently, as an opportunity to build the best possible future, starting now, on your birthday.”

Not a bit of it. Slowly, Anthony ripped the document into pieces, letting them shower onto the carpet. Consummate professionals, neither solicitor raised an eyebrow.

“A copy, of course.” Hamilton sighed again. “Smythson will have to draw up another.”

“I’ll contest this.” Anthony swallowed bile. “Perhaps the condition itself is legal, but that codicil is dated only days before my father died. Apoplexy had ravaged his mind.”

Johnstone lit his pipe. “You would need to produce evidence that the testator, your father, was not in possession of testamentary capacity.”

“A preponderance of evidence,” added Hamilton. “Given that the codicil is rational, of regular form and judicious disposition, without any suspicious marks or alterations. The burden of proof rests with the contestant.”

More bile rose into Anthony’s throat. His father hadn’t seemed altogether sane at the end; all the old grievances intensified, wracking him. But what proof could he produce?

He dropped back into his chair so he could look Yardley straight in the eyes.

“You knew about this second codicil all along,” he said quietly. “You knew, and you waited. Did you come up with it together? Who wanted it more? Him? Or you?”

“I’ll find Smythson now,” said Hamilton, rising. “Unless Your Grace has further questions.”

“We’ll give you a moment.” Johnstone followed Hamilton to the door. Pipe smoke lingered in the room. The air was still. Such a tasteful, well-appointed office. Anthony’s heart was beating as though enemy cannons were trained upon him.