Chapter 267

Vivienne stood silently beside them, her refined features flushed with discomfort as she averted her gaze.

Nathaniel’s expression remained unreadable. “Since when do you decide who I date?” His voice was icy, laced with clear irritation.

Reginald slammed his cane on the floor. “How old are you now? Pushing thirty! What are you waiting for? Still chasing after that woman from five years ago?”

He scoffed. “Nathaniel, I know you resent us, but no respectable family would accept some random woman who bore your child.”

Beatrice tugged Vivienne forward. “Vivienne comes from a good background. She’s healthy and decent. She doesn’t mind that you have a son—she’s even promised to treat Christopher well. What more could you want? Even if you found that woman, how could she possibly compare to Vivienne?”

Vivienne looked at Nathaniel with practiced grace, her red lips parting softly. “Your parents aren’t getting any younger. Do you really want them worrying about you forever? And Christopher… he needs a mother. A proper upbringing. I’ve spoken with your family. If we get engaged, I’ll publicly claim him as my own. He’ll carry the Blackwood name. He’ll be your heir.”

It was a significant concession. A generous offer.

Nathaniel took a slow sip of his whiskey. “Are you finished?” he asked, his voice dangerously low.

The question hung in the air, stark and dismissive.

He set his glass down with a quiet click. “If you’re done, you can see yourselves out.” His tone offered no warmth, no negotiation.

Vivienne stiffened. She was beautiful, accomplished, from an impeccable family. Why did he look straight through her?

Reginald struck the floor again with his cane, the sound sharp with fury. “Nathaniel! Are you trying to be the death of me? You moved out years ago! When will this rebellion end? Do you have any idea the embarrassment you’ve brought upon the Blackwood name? You should be grateful a woman like Vivienne would even consider you! How dare you be so ungrateful!”

“Perhaps you should marry her, then.” Nathaniel’s gaze was flat as he rose from his chair, ready to leave.

Reginald pointed a trembling finger. “You—! You—!” He choked, gasping for air, his face turning red.

Beatrice rushed to his side, rubbing his chest. She shot Nathaniel a furious glare. “How can you speak to your father like that? Are you trying to kill him?”

Nathaniel didn’t bother with a reply. He turned, his broad back radiating cold detachment as he headed for the stairs. He didn’t care why they’d come. Their pressure for marriage was a waste of his time.

The grand hall fell silent, leaving the three of them behind. Vivienne’s hands clenched into tight fists at her sides. Men lined up for her favor across the globe. Why was Nathaniel Blackwood the only one utterly immune?

Beatrice took her hand, patting it gently. “Don’t take it to heart, Vivienne. He’s always been like this, stubborn and cold. You’ve both been busy with your companies. You haven’t had time to build a connection. Feelings need cultivation.” She smiled reassuringly. “Starting today, come by the estate every day. Spend a few hours with Christopher. Get to know them both.”

“But… wouldn’t that be inappropriate?” Vivienne murmured, lowering her eyes.

“Nonsense,” Beatrice said firmly. “I am still the lady of this house. You will come. Three to four hours a day. Make yourself at home.”