The Serrano Succession by Elizabeth Moon

Philip who?"
     
    "Philip Vicarios," Sanni said quietly; her quick glance admonished Luci. Papa Stefan stared a moment, then turned to look at Casimir and Berthold.
     
    "She's marrying a Vicarios?"
     
    Luci had not really doubted what Esmay told her, but now a chill sank through her as she saw, in their faces, additional confirmation.
     
    Berthold shrugged. "She has Esmay's approval, I understand."
     
    "And you, Casi?"
     
    Casimir nodded. "The family is our ally. Paul is my friend—"
     
    "Does she know —?"
     
    "Children, you may be excused," Sanni interrupted. The younger cousins, eyes already wide, scrambled away from the table with only the briefest duck of the head to the elders. Luci's younger brother gave her a look that meant she would be ambushed later and expected to Tell All. When the door closed behind them all, Luci spoke into the silence.
     
    "I know. Esmaya told me. She said it didn't matter, that she held no grudge against the family, and if Philip was kind—"
     
    "Kind! Marriage is not about kindness!" Papa Stefan had turned an ugly red.
     
    "It is," Sanni said. "Not that you would know—"
     
    "Quiet!" Casimir rarely interrupted at these family fights, but this time he did, with all the power of command built over years of active service. "Too much is at stake here to rehash old battles or waste energy and patience yelling at each other. As the Landbride's Trustee, I know that she did in fact approve Luci's desire to marry Philip Vicarios. She did in fact approve Luci's expenditure of equipment to allow us to export genestock, and her reasons were sound enough to convince me, and the other Trustees, that this was a good idea. This is not, after all, the real issue. The real issue is, the Landbride wants to marry an outlander, and continue to live offplanet, and the other landholders would like to use this as an excuse to reduce our influence in the Guild. I see no chance of changing Esmay's mind—for all the reasons we know about—so I suggest we turn our attention to minimizing the damage to the Suiza Family, and quit inflicting more on ourselves."
     
    Luci had not expected her uncle Casimir to be so sensible. To her surprise, Papa Stefan went back to his meal, stabbing the sliced cattlelope as if it were an enemy, but silent. Sanni sipped the rest of her soup in thoughtful silence; Berthold helped himself to a pile of potatoes in red sauce, and began eating steadily. Casimir looked at Luci.
     
    "Have you any more bombshells to drop, Luci?"
     
    "No, Uncle."
     
    "Did Esmaya mention anything to you about passing on the Landbride duties?"
     
    Luci felt herself going hot. "She did . . . in a way . . . but—"
     
    "She spoke of you." It was not a question. Casimir tented his hands and looked over them at her. "Did you agree?"
     
    "I told her it was too soon," Luci said. "I'm only—"
     
    "The age that two Landbrides were invested, in the old days. A year older, in fact, than Silvia." Luci had never heard of Silvia, though she had, like all the children, memorized a hundred years of Landbrides Suiza. "It may be that having her designate you Landbride-to-be would help—that plus your marriage to a Vicarios would prove that the Suizas were not involved in interstellar politics."
     
     
     

Chapter Five
    Hobart glared at Oskar Morrelline, former head of the Morrelline branch of his sept. "You were outmaneuvered by Venezia," he said. "That fuzzbrained sister of yours cost us market share and dropped profits twenty-eight percent—"
     
    "It's not my fault," Oskar said. "If—"
     
    "Oh yes, it is." Hobart interrupted smoothly. "Your daughter Ottala—what is it with the women in your family, anyway?—goes haring off to Patchcock and gets herself killed. That's what started it—a daughter you didn't control any better than Bunny controlled Brun—"
     
    Oskar had flushed an ugly color; Hobart enjoyed that as he always enjoyed exercising power. "No, Oskar. I can't trust you to do it