Paperwork and ledgers sitting open on the table, Toad had stopped work momentarily when the porter brought dinner to his rooms at his club. His graduation ceremonies were still three days away, but he had tricked Captain Hawley into telling him which ship his parents would take, so he knew they had been in Paris two days, and he had managed to stay out of their sight thus far.
But, to his surprise, they had brought the Haverfords with them. Not Sally, worse luck. Now, added to the need to see his mother and sister, the imperative to argue his case with his godparents. Tomorrow. He would visit them in their hotel tomorrow, arriving without an announcement, so his father didn't have time to prepare an attack.
With any luck, the doorman at the club would remain vigilant tonight about keeping out non-members, especially after what Toad had paid him to bar the door to any random English dukes or duchesses wandering by.
Before he could do more than pour a glass of watered wine to drink with his supper, Piero knocked and slipped in the door, closing and locking it behind him. Toad raised a brow at Piero's sheepish look and uncharacteristic silence.
"I did not wish to... er... your uncle... he threatened to withhold funds..."
Toad let out a deep sigh. "Firthley is not so bad, but say you haven't brought my father."
Piero didn't reply, but the rising flush on his face was answer enough.
"I will not see him on his terms, d'Alvieri! I will not! We have discussed this!"
From behind the door, accompanied by a fist pounding against it so hard the lock rattled, his uncle's voice raised, as angry as he had ever heard Firthley. "Abersham! You will open this door this minute and admit me and your father, or there will be no boon from me upon your graduation! Do you understand me? I have lost all patience with you, boy."
At a whisper, Piero said, "You must allow him entrance, Abersham. All our plans are for naught if he declines to pay for them."
Gritting his teeth, squaring his jaw, and trying to singe Piero's hair with a look, Toad crossed to the door, growling under his breath, "You will regret this, d'Alvieri, if it is the last thing I ever do."
As soon as he unlocked and opened the door, Piero slid back out again as fast as he could, while Firthley and Toad's father stormed in, stiff-necked and scowling.
"I should not be forced to subterfuge to lay eyes on my heir," his father began, leaning on a cane as he stopped a few feet into the room.
"I should not be forced to subterfuge to avoid men who disdain me," Toad retorted.
Wellbridge had aged. His hair was fully silver and thinner, and his face was faded, his skin papery, wearing spectacles he had only needed for reading before. His shoulders were slightly stooped, and he was fully a half-head shorter than he had been when Toad left England, the top of his head reaching only as high as Toad's shoulder.
Toad experienced a moment's qualm when he realized his mother's concerns about his father's health had been well-founded, and not just a ploy to gain sympathy. But before he could rescind his rudeness, Firthley interrupted.
"Your father does not disdain you, Abersham. We've made an enormous effort to travel here to celebrate your many accomplishments, and we wish only to mark the occasion with you."
"Alas, I find I am too busy for celebration," Toad said, gesturing to the open ledgers and maps on the table. "I'm afraid my work must take precedence to parties, as I must shortly make my way in the world without such support as a nobleman's heir can typically expect."
"That is your doing, Abersham," his father barked, "not mine. You've been given every opportunity to comply with your mother's—"
Toad's temper flared. "My mother's blackmail and coercion? Were those your next words? For that is what it is called when one uses money to gain compliance from an adult man. I would not have you understate your case, Sir."
Wellbridge's head snapped back as though he had been hit, and his shoulders straightened and recalled the younger duke Toad remembered. Firthley closed his eyes and sighed, shaking his head.
Finally, after a long silence, Wellbridge gathered his ducal dignity and stated, quietly and plainly, "You go too far, Abersham. You cannot expect my support in future, nor your mother's, and you are no longer welcome to use Seventh Sea as transport. Should you wish to engage a manservant, you will have to pay him yourself."
Toad choked on an attempted response, but finally jabbed, "At least I will no longer be subject to your spy."
"Indeed. I will have your belongings crated and delivered to your solicitor by the end of the month."
"Deliver my properties while you are at it," Toad snapped.
"Oh, you may count on that. And as soon as you turn twenty-five—and repay the investments I have made in them, with appropriate interest—they will be wholly your own. Make no mistake, Abersham; I came today prepared to reconcile and make amends—as did the Haverfords—and your aunt and uncle and sister wished so to be reunited... but you go too far."
The reminder Haverford was a short carriage ride away allowed Toad to choke down his spleen.
In a more conciliatory tone, he explained, "I had planned to call on you all in the morning, sir." But he couldn't help adding, "I might have come earlier had the Haverfords brought Sally."
With a spiteful glint in his eye, Wellbridge intoned, "Her father did not wish to raise Lady Sarah's hopes, and it is a good thing, to my mind, as I cannot think, without any income to sustain a wife, Haverford will consent to any match between you."
"But—"
Wellbridge held up a hand to stop Toad speaking. "I had intended to bring you back to London at the conclusion of the ceremonies, so you might attend your sister's ball—"
"Easily said, sir," Toad interjected. "Harder to believe, after three years of berating me to remain outside England on pain of death."
"—but clearly, you have no wish to associate with the House of Wellbridge. We will all return to England forthwith." With a finger pointed directly at his errant progeny, the duke growled, "I tell you, Abersham, it will break your mother's heart to board that ship without seeing you, and it may well destroy Lady Sarah to hear what you've done."
"I have not done—" Before he could complete his sentence, the duke turned and stalked out.
Before he could mutter the rest of his retort, his uncle turned and slammed the door shut. "You dung-brained nincompoop! How dare you show such disrespect and disregard for your parents! How dare you! I have never seen such dishonor in a man I call family! And certainly not in any man with whom I conduct business."
Toad stood, stone-faced, as Firthley's temper rose with his voice, excoriating Toad for every real and imagined lapse of his young life.
"Can you not tell he is declining, Abersham? Do you not see with your own eyes your father will not be here for you to malign forever? You do not have years yet to make your peace with him!"
Toad tried to speak, but the marquis would not pause for an answer. As the lecture ebbed and flowed, Toad gave up any idea of reconciliation with his father and allowed his own resentment and anger to heat to a rousing boil.
How dare he? How dare the blasted duke not say right away they planned to allow him home! How dare they bring Haverford and not Sally! How dare Firthley demand entrance to Toad's club and blackmail Piero to do it! How dare he bring Wellbridge here, when he could have brought the duchess! How dare they! How dare any of them do any of it!
Firthley just keep yelling, finally ending with, "I cannot imagine why I believed you man enough to trust with my money!"
At that pause, his uncle's fury seemed to lose steam, so Toad merely said, "We have a contract."
Firthley's tone and volume dropped in a way that forced Toad's undivided attention. "Aye. We do. And I will honor it to the letter."
"Excellent."
"Only to the letter. I am not required to transfer any ownership interest to you or your partners."
"I see."
"You will get your forty percent of profits, Abersham, until I decide to dismiss you and your friends, and that is all you will get until you are back in your parents' good graces. And you cannot rely upon me to maintain my silence about this endeavor when your mother is so worried about your future that she can barely sleep, and you refuse to offer her the least comfort, much less the respect she deserves."
With no reaction, Toad nodded and said, "We are agreed, then. You may tell the duchess she need no longer concern herself. May I show you out?"
Firthley stormed out, slamming his hand against the door jamb and shouting, "Bloody Marquess of Mucking Things Up!" Toad locked the door and heard his uncle's steps thump all the way down the hall to the stairwell.
Finally, he could no longer contain the emotion that had been roiling since he saw his father's face, so with a noise like a tortured animal, he upended the table he had been working on, sending papers flying. When that failed to put a damper on his rage, he picked up one ledger after another and threw them at the wall, then his dinner plate, bowl, and glass, ending with a chair splintered into pieces against the stone hearth.
With each shattered and strewn object, Toad lashed himself with one denunciation after another. His uncle was right; he was the Marquess of Mucking Things Up, mirror image of the Deuced Duke of Driving David Mad. Haverford was right; he wasn't remotely worthy of Sally, and had been treating her shamefully for years, long before he was sent away. His mother was right; he was impulsive and reactionary, and too arrogant for words. Aunt Cherry was right; he was a drunken skirt-chaser not fit to wed her daughter. His father was right; David had acted like the boy he was last time they spoke, not the man he had worked so hard to cultivate. He had been dismissive of his father, when he should have been concerned for his health and wellbeing.
The only people who had been wrong all this time were Toad himself, for not seeing any of it, and Sally, for standing by him while he paid her no respect, dismissed her devotion, tried to remove her from her family, and took for granted she would wait for him forever. Sally would be better off marrying Gildeforte than someone who had such a long record of behaving so poorly toward her. Toad should write and offer to release her, but he couldn't bear it if she accepted.
By the time the porter knocked tentatively at the door, Toad was sitting on the floor in the corner, arms across his knees, quietly sobbing.