*
Colin Talbot exited the Archbishop’s Court the next morning in an exceedingly good mood. He’d had a good night’s sleep for the first time in over a month; he was one step closer to getting what he wanted (which was to keep the Talbot name pristine, of course), and the London weather was charming for once.
Not even the thought of discussing the marriage settlement with Hawkins could spoil his day.
Hawkins’s lawyer, Mr Collins, conducted his business in an office that could easily be mistaken for a library. Talbot looked around approvingly before settling into a plush armchair next to Nicholas.
“I’ve already informed Collins of the need for a settlement last night, and he has taken the liberty to write a preliminary document this morning,” Hawkins said without preamble as he handed him several sheets of paper.
Talbot glanced at the pages, trying to appear even more disinterested than he already was.
“What are you so worried about, Hawkins? I'm not a fortune hunter, unlike your beloved Corporal.”
Hawkins didn’t take the bait. “I want Elizabeth and her children to keep the interest from her dowry. And the Mayfair house is hers alone; it was a gift.”
“Do you think I have need for your mistress’s house?” Talbot said scornfully.
A muscle in Nicholas’s jaw pulsed.
Talbot waved his hand nonchalantly. “By all means, Hawkins, I have no need for your sister's dowry either.”
He then reached into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out his own sheets of paper.
“Here is the proposal of the jointure and allowance I had in mind for my future duchess. Feel free to look at it as I read through these,” he said.
He pretended to read but secretly observed the two men as they went over his list together. It brought him great satisfaction to see their eyes widen in surprise. Talbot prided himself on his generosity and his wealth, and he would never allow Hawkins to even imply the opposite.
Nicholas cleared his throat, and Talbot pretended he needed to finish a paragraph before looking up.
“This looks good. Collins will draw up the papers now for us to sign if that is all right with you?”
Feeling like one more thing had gone his way that day, Talbot nodded like a benevolent king.
All that was left to do when he got home was to inform his bride of the time of their wedding. Talbot sat down in his study to pen his first-ever note to Elizabeth. His hands felt damp. He stood up and opened the window, then sat back down.
I am unable to observe the usual conventions of writing to one’s betrothed,he realised,but we are not simple acquaintances either. I am most uncertain about how to proceed.
He leaned back in his chair and interlaced his fingers on his stomach as he stared at the ceiling.
I need to stick to the facts. I am writing to inform you, etc.
He dipped his pen in the inkwell.
Miss Hawkins,he wrote,through my close acquaintance and, dare I say, friendship with the Archbishop of Canterbury, with whom I sit in the House of Lords -
Colin stopped writing. He felt he sounded too eager to impress her with his connexions. He took a new sheet of paper.
Miss Hawkins,
I secured the license.
Talbot felt that this was much better and to the point. This was, after all, a simple note which was meant to inform.
He continued in the same vein.
We shall be wed tomorrow morning at 8 at your residence and shall be off to Norwich immediately after.
Colin wondered whether she perhaps wished to give a wedding breakfast, but remembered Nicholas hadn’t said anything about it, so he discarded the thought. He didn’t want to make any suggestions that had the potential to be rejected.
