“I have allowed you this much indulgence for precisely that reason.” Sir Laurence’s eyes held his like shackles of sky-blue. “Because you are, on occasion, of service. Tonight you will serve the estate by selecting a suitable bride. I am not unreasonable; you may choose among the young ladies present. Any one of them will be acceptable.”
“Father,” Colby said, desperate, knowing it would never work. “Please. Not now, at least—another year, more time, I—”
“You will not have the time.” Delivered chillingly, flat and unemotional. “You are unlikely to ever hold the title. Your son must.”
“But I can’t—”
Sir Laurence raised a hand, silencing any protest. “You will not ever be what Stonebrook needs, William. As I’ve told you. As you, it seems, refuse to comprehend. You are, quite simply, not g
