London, United Kingdom
June 1851

James Hale paced the room restlessly as he awaited his father's diagnosis. In the last several weeks, Charles Hale's health had rapidly declined, and as such, his son James was called upon from his vacation in Scotland to attend to him. Obviously, James himself did nothing to aid in his father's recovery; he was simply in charge of the people who would do all the work.

Much to James' dismay, this was not the only responsibility that was now his. Charles Hale was the manager of the London branch of the Garrison Shipping Company, and seeing as how he was incapable of doing his work, James was the one who had to take his place. This included overseeing transactions and shipping schedules as well as attending the frivolous gatherings thrown by investors and other potential clientele. Not only did James hate this work, but he also had no earthly idea of how to do it. Within the first few days of his management, it became clear to his father that James was an incompetent fool. For someone with such an expensive education, James was clueless about how to run a business. It was this realization that prompted Charles Hale to consider a plan of action.

The doctor left the Hale residence in London with little information regarding the elder Hale's condition, which left the younger in a state of irritation and annoyance. He entered his father's chambers and spit abuses at the doctor as he made his leave. Charles rolled his eyes at his son's irritability and rudeness before telling him to take a seat. James obeyed, but it grated against every fiber in his being to do so.

As far as sons went, James had the appearance of an ideal one. He was tall and black-haired with a rather athletic build, and had as much charm as one might expect a prince to have. This charm, accompanied by his handsome face, served him well in enchanting all the ladies, high-born and low-born alike. He could talk his way out of most predicaments, many of which were of his own making, and he had a certain aptitude for throwing the grandest parties in all of society. And while these aspects of James Hale most undoubtedly gave him the potential to be a great and powerful man, he had several fatal flaws which, if not kept in check, would doom him to a life of failure and poverty.

His biggest flaw depended on the fact that James Hale had never worked a day in his life. Charles had done all the work to make his Dukedom worth all that it was, and James reaped all the benefits. He grew up in a castle of sorts where everything was served to him, and he received the finest education, during which time he spent abroad whoring, drinking, and gambling away his allowance. He knew of books and language, but he hadn't the slightest idea of how to manage finances or run a business. In other words, when it came to making any sort of living for himself, James, if left on his own, would never succeed.

Thus, as Charles lay in his sickbed, he knew that the time had come for him to tighten the reigns on his incompetent and irresponsible son.

But how? He had questioned himself, pondering the many failed attempts in which he had already tried to save his son from financial ruin. The idea had come to him weeks before his illness had taken him, and as such, the plans had been made by the time Charles Hale asked his son to have a seat beside him. All that remained was obtaining a signature from a certain gentleman.

"You're not going to like what I am about to tell you," Charles addressed his son rather directly. In his previous attempts at an intervention in his son's life, Charles had tried to tread lightly so that James might not rebel against him, but all these had failed, so a forceful address was essential.

James glared at his father, his piercing blue eyes holding an expression of irritation. He had expected such a conversation from his father, but in that moment, he never could have guessed the extent of how it would alter his life.

Charles began again, his fragile voice as steady as it would allow, "James, it has become clear to me that your behavior has not changed in slightest since the last time we spoke, and as such, I have decided that there is only one way for you to finally grow up and stop acting like a child. You are not to return to Scotland, and–"

"You can't be serious," James interrupted. His heart was beating rapidly in anger, and he couldn't help but scoff at the pathetically weak man before him. Charles had been sick with whatever this disease was for more than five years now, and though James would never admit it aloud, he was ready for his father to die. Of course, he had cared at first, but after the dozenth time of having to return to London to say goodbye, James's patience was wearing thin.

Charles raised his brow at his son, eyeing him carefully as he answered James' protest, "I am very serious. I have already written to your host to tell them you will not be returning to them. The rest of things will be sent back within a fortnight."

"You can't do this," James seethed, standing from his chair. Charles sighed, the distress caused by his son only multiplying with every passing second. Although he had been sick before, he needed his fool of a son to actually listen this time. If he did survive, he would need James's help very soon, and he preferred that he be equipped for the task ahead. Thus, Charles had made some arrangements on James's behalf, and he knew that the boy wouldn't like it.

"I can, and I have," Charles declared, mustering the remaining strength he had. "Sit down. I am not finished."

James took a deep breath to calm himself and returned to his seat. If God were good to him and his father should succumb to the sickness that had dominated his life for the last five years, James would be free, but until such time, he would do the bare minimum to shift his father's attention from him.

"In the last weeks you have proven yourself to be incapable of doing the work to which you are called." At this rather offensive statement regarding his incompetency, James opened his mouth to defend himself, but his father raised a hand to silence him. As much as he hated his father, he still felt the need to prove himself to be worthy of the family title and fortune. If he could not, then he risked it being given to someone else.

Charles continued, "So I have decided that since you refuse to listen to my instruction, you will spend the remainder of the year to study under the Duke of Newcastle. He has agreed to tutor you through the year's end so that you might learn to take your responsibilities seriously before it is too late."

"Father, no, I'll–" James interjected in attempt to change the fate to which he had been condemned.

"No, son," Charles cut him off, sighing heavily and relaxing into his pillow. "You had your chance to do this on your own, but you have squandered it by running my coin purse dry and nearly drinking yourself to death. I have no choice but to send you to Henry. He may be friendly, but believe me, he has a cruel side to him, as does his wife. I suggest you don't test them on it. You will either learn from them, or lose your inheritance. Do not argue with me on this—I mean it."

James stared blankly at his father as he processed the words that would ultimately change his life. His father had never been a strict man, even when he was in good health, but now, as he lay nearing death for the second time that year, Charles Hale seemed to James to be cruel and unfair. Yes, he had spent his time having fun rather than working, but did that warrant a threat to his inheritance? James certainly didn't think so. But despite his frustration, James kept his anger concealed. James thought that if he obeyed just this once, then maybe he might get out of most of what his father was saying.

"One more thing," Charles added, handing his son a sealed letter. "Now that we've established you're going to be taking on more responsibility, I need to you to personally take this to Henry Pelham for me. Do not send someone else; you must go yourself."

James began to protest, but he stopped himself. If delivering letters is all he had to do, then maybe this whole thing would not be so bad. James took the letter from his father and made his leave to deliver it.

When he arrived at the Pelham apartment in London, he was ushered immediately into the Duke's study, where he found the old man standing by the glass windows and staring outside. When the Duke caught sight of the young man, his face lit up, and he greeted the boy in the most jovial manner. While this would make most people feel valued or appreciated, the Duke's enthusiasm only frustrated the young, spoiled gentleman. However his agitation, James had a very special talent for playing the role of the handsome charmer, and he did his best to employ that facade as he spoke to Henry Pelham.

"Your father told me you would be stopping by," Henry declared smilingly, taking a seat at his massive wooden desk and closing the folders in front of him. "How can I help you, Mr. Hale?"

James took the seat across from the old man as he placed the sealed letter down in front of him.

"I am to deliver this to you," he said simply, sinking down into the leather chair and watching the Duke as he took the letter in his hands. Once the seal was broken, Henry began to read the letter's contents, which led him to furrow his brow in concentration. The lines in his wrinkled face deepened as his continued to peruse the letter, and James began to feel rather impatient.

Surely, it doesn't take this man so long to read all of his correspondence, he thought, staring at the old man as he set the letter down in front of him and retrieved a fresh sheet of parchment.

Henry wrote quickly and neatly, his lines even and elegant. This letter would solidify the bond between their two great houses, and even more importantly, it would ensure that both parties be financially obligated to one another.

The Duke glanced up at the handsome man who sat before him, observing both his physical features as well as the seemingly pleasant aura about him. Henry knew of James' folly as a young boy, but looking at him in that moment, he believed him to be worthy of the task ahead. With this in mind, Henry began to write his reply once more, signing the parchment at the bottom of the page and then sealing it in wax with his signet ring. It was done.

The Duke stood from his seat, and the young man followed his example as the elder went to his liquor cabinet. Filling two glasses with a dark liquid, Henry handed the letter to James along with his drink. James took them both, confusion clouding his composed demeanor.

"Welcome to the family, my boy," the Duke smiled as he raised his glass. Both men swallowed the smooth liquid, but only one of them managed to keep from choking on it. James knew his way around the liquor cabinet, so his shock was not due to the strength of the beverage, but rather, the words of the man standing next to him. His cold blue eyes stared down at the letter in his hand as he realized just what it was and what it meant for him.

No, he thought. Father would never arrange my marriage without consulting me first. Would he?

This letter meant the end of his youth, and James Hale felt the weight of its contents increase with every passing second. He knew something like this would happen eventually, but he hadn't expected it to be so soon.

With his composure dwindling, James said farewell to his future father-in-law and made his leave, the letter in his hand feeling much like shackles that were about to be closed upon his wrists. An arranged marriage to Jane Pelham was the final punch in the fight, and James Hale, the great bachelor of English society, had been knocked out. His father had won, and he knew it.

***

yay, sorry that took so long... I've been working a lot on Silk recently, and I'm finding this one to be extremely difficult to write...

Anyway, thanks for reading and please vote if you can! :)
-kate🖤