Chapter 1291:
Gerald didn’t soften his tone. “I want you to get married before the year is out. And I want a great-grandchild, no more excuses!”
Wesley lifted his gaze, a lazy grin tugging at his lips. “Grandpa, unless scientists crack asexual reproduction soon, you’ll have to be patient. I’ll keep you posted if there’s any groundbreaking news.”
That flippant remark only made Gerald bristle, beard twitching in frustration. He could see right through Wesley’s attempt to twist his words.
“Enough with the nonsense!” Gerald snapped, his scowl deepening. “You know exactly what I’m saying. Whether you run off to Yoswye or any other place, I don’t care. The Spencer name needs an heir. Don’t leave me waiting forever.”
A flicker of surprise crossed Wesley’s face. How on earth did Gerald know about his trip to Yoswye?
Wesley’s eyes flicked to the butler, his features giving nothing away. “Who’s been talking in front of you?”
Gerald shot him a look, all fire and impatience. “Don’t bother blaming anyone else. I may have years on me, but I’m not confused—and I know more than you realize. Give me a straight answer: am I getting a great-grandchild before this year is over?”
Stretching out in his chair, Wesley crossed one leg over the other, unruffled by the pressure. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“That’s it?” Gerald’s tone turned steely, his frustration sharp. “This isn’t about trying. It’s about results! You’re no child—you know how to court a woman. When I was your age, your uncle was already tearing through the house. Step up!”
These lectures had worn grooves in Wesley’s mind by now—he barely registered them anymore.
To keep the peace, Wesley offered a placating nod. “Alright, I’ll pick up the pace. But for now, you ought to rest. It’s late.”
Refusing to back down, Gerald laid down one more order. “Arrange for Elena to join us for dinner soon. I want to meet with her properly.”
That demand, at least, seemed reasonable. Wesley replied with a small nod. “I’ll bring Elena over one evening.”
Gerald nodded in satisfaction. Prolonged conversation left him weak, and before long, coughing wracked his frame. The butler hurried to press a cup of water into his hands.
A few sips later, Gerald’s breathing steadied, though the signs of age remained etched across his face.
With gentle concern, the butler spoke up. “That cough keeps coming back. Best to get some rest soon.”
A shadow crossed Wesley’s eyes. “Has the doctor been called to see him?”
“Mr. Spencer insisted it was nothing serious and told me not to bother Dr. Carpenter,” the butler replied quietly.
That answer only deepened the furrow in Wesley’s brow.
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