“Let us know how he goes on,” Orwin added. “And whatever Venette and I can do…”

Venette’s husband was a good-natured clodwit, but despite that Orwin was still a decent man. “I’ll not hesitate to ask, my lord.”

Parnel Garrick stood. “We won’t think to see you return to us, Morgan, obviously. It’s been an honour to host you here these few days, and a great pity we must lose your company before time. Don’t fret about your belongings, I’ll see them safely returned. You’ll take our hopes for a speedy recovery to Lord Danfey?”

“Of course,” he said, pushing his own chair back. “And while I must immediately depart, my lord, if you could spare me a moment?”

“Certainly,” said Parnel Garrick, very formal. Seated beside him, his wife remembered to breathe and Maris, clever enough to present a shy and properly innocent demeanour, slipped back to her place.

Leaving the conservatory, Maris’s father silent by his side, Morgan willed the churning in his guts to abate.

I might as well declare myself now. If I can tell my father the marriage is agreed upon, if I can promise him a grandson within the year, then he’ll rally. It might even be enough to forestall his leaving.

And that was more than worth the price he’d have to pay.

“My lord,” he said, slowing, as they reached the country house’s spacious foyer. “I think you must know what it is I wish to say.”

“I do,” said Parnel Garrick. “So I’ll invite you to call me Parnel.”

He nodded. “Parnel. I would offer myself as a husband for your daughter. But before I do, I must set things straight. I’m told Lord Arkley has spoken slightingly of me.”

“Ah.” Maris’s father cleared his throat. “Yes. As to that—”

“You should know, Parnel, there is no love lost between Sallis and I.” Morgan offered a faint smile. “Which is talking out of turn, but I know I can trust your discretion. Are you and his lordship friends?”

“We rub shoulders now and then,” Parnel Garrick said. “And have done business together in the past. But our families aren’t close.”

So that was something. “Parnel, I see no point in unpacking my dispute with Lord Arkley. At best it’s unreliable hearsay, and at worst tawdry gossip. But if it means you now mislike the match between myself and Maris, then—”

“Mislike it? Not at all!” Parnel Garrick said quickly. “What man has never disagreed with another? Lady Garrick and I gladly bestow Maris upon you, Morgan.”

And just like that, so simply, even carelessly, his future was set in stone.

“Thank you, my lord.” He wanted to weep. “Let me be comfortable with my father’s condition and then I will return, so we might talk more thoroughly about this—this most pleasing arrangement.”