Duke Tudor unfolded the letter and had barely scanned a few lines when his gaze stopped on two words.
"Marriage alliance?!"
"Huh?" He nearly spat out a mouthful of tea.
"Who? Marriage alliance with whom?"
His eyes rapidly scanned downward, ten lines at a glance, until settling on that particular line.
"To betroth third daughter Emily Edmund to Vaerik Tudor."
He was completely stunned.
He remembered Vaerik, his eighth son.
His initial impression was of someone with modest talent and ambition, neither competitive nor assertive—a typical wastrel noble child waiting to inherit.
That's why he'd sent him to the Northern Province, making use of waste since he never planned to let him inherit anything anyway.
Later, old steward Bradley mentioned in letters several times that Vaerik had managed that chaotic border territory in the Northern Province quite well.
