"Not at all." Duncan turned to look steadily at his grandfather. "I have a bride picked out, sir. We are already unofficially betrothed, in fact, even though there has been no public announcement yet." "Indeed?" There was a world of scorn in the one word. His grandfather raised his eyebrows and looked incredulous – as well he might. "And who /is/ this lady, pray?" "She has sworn me to secrecy," Duncan said, "until she is ready for the announcement to be made." "Ha! Convenient indeed!" his grandfather exclaimed, his brows snapping together again. "It is a barefaced lie, Sheringford, just like everything else in your miserable life. There is no such person, no such betrothal, no such impending marriage. Take yourself out of my sight." "But if there /is/?" Duncan asked him, standing his ground though he had the feeling he might as well be standing on quicksand. "What if there /is/ such a lady, sir, and she has agreed to marry me on the assumption that I have security to offer her, that we will live at Woodbine Park and finance our marriage and our family on its rents and income?" His grandfather glared at him with no diminution of either anger or scorn. "If there /is/ such a lady," he said, almost spitting out the words, "and /if/ she is undisputedly an eligible bride for the Earl of Sheringford and future Marquess of Claverbrook, and /if/ you present her to me here the day before the papers announce your betrothal, and /if/ you marry her no later than one day before my birthday, then Woodbine Park will be yours again on that day. That is a formidable number of /ifs/, Sheringford. If you fail in any one of them, as I have no doubt you will, then Woodbine Park will be your cousin's on my birthday." Duncan inclined his head. "I believe," his grandfather said, "Norman and his lady may safely continue packing up their belongings ready for the move." /Continue/? Norman /did/ know, then? "They would be well advised not to, sir," Duncan said.