Chapter Four
Miss Halliwell stared at him, her eyes nearly as big as saucers. Then her scowl deepened. “Sir, it is not kind to joke about such things.”
“I am not joking.” Dev held her gaze, silently begging her to believe him.
“If I don’t choose a wife by the first of November, my stepmother will choose one for me.
And I would rather avoid that.” The first time Dev married, he’d done things the way his father and stepmother wanted. Look where that got him!
Miss Halliwell closed her eyes and put a hand to her head. “This cannot be real.”
“Oh, it can! You would know that if you’d ever met my stepmother. She is a force to be reckoned with.” He admired Mabel Colfax’s strength of character, but not when it collided with his own wishes.
Last night, he’d been prepared to acquiesce to Mabel’s plan.
He was out of options. Out of time. He’d done his best to select a bride for himself, and he’d failed.
He’d been prepared to marry the bride Mabel picked for him regardless of Miss Saunders’ appearance or character, though the prospect had driven him to drink far more brandy than was good for him.
But this morning, Dev opened his eyes to a glimmer of hope. It was as if some good fairy had whispered the solution in his ear. At first, he’d been dubious. Was proposing to a woman the day after he met her really a good idea? Most people would say “no.”
When Miss Halliwell walked into the room, the idea suddenly seemed more attractive, perhaps in part because the lady herself seemed more attractive than he’d remembered.
Last night, Miss Halliwell had looked tired, anxious, and rumpled after a day of travel. This morning, she was dressed neatly, not a hair out of place. She wore the same plain gray gown she’d worn yesterday, but a maid must have brushed it, for it looked much better.
As for her face—well, now that she was well-rested, she looked downright pretty. He had remembered her hair as a mousy brown color, but the morning light slanting through the windows of the breakfast room struck golden highlights in it.
The pale blue-gray of Miss Halliwell’s eyes lent dignity to her face. Admittedly, they also made her look cool and distant. Dev wondered what she would look like if her tranquil gaze was ignited by affection or desire.
The more he thought about this last-ditch effort to his matrimonial problem, the more optimistic he grew. All he had to do was persuade Miss Halliwell.
“I assure you,” he told her, “I am speaking in all earnestness. The marriage would benefit both of us. I would escape my stepmother’s matchmaking, and you would be comfortably provided for. I would make certain that you never needed to seek employment again.”
Miss Halliwell continued to stare blankly at him. “Why are you so desperate to avoid your stepmother’s choice of bride? Is there something wrong with her?”
“Not that I know of.” The worst criticism he’d heard of Miss Saunders was that she was a trifle insipid. “But I have already tried marrying the girl Lady Colfax chose for me, and I am not eager to repeat the experiment.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What was wrong with your first wife?”
Dev sucked in his breath. He could write an entire essay about what went wrong between him and Elisabeth. It would not make for pleasant reading.
Miss Halliwell quickly backed away from the question. “I am sorry, sir. It is none of my business.”
“It would be your business if you married me.” He did not enjoy talking about his short-lived marriage, but Miss Halliwell had a right to know what happened to her predecessor.
He stared down at his half-eaten toast, searching for the right words.
“Elisabeth and I were a bad match. She was the daughter of a viscount, and she loved London society. Wanted to spend every Season there. We could not afford that. We lived on a limited allowance. I had not yet inherited the estate.”
Sir Graham Colfax had given his heir an adequate allowance for a simple life in the country. Unfortunately, that was not enough for Elisabeth.
Dev forced himself to continue the unhappy story. “Elisabeth and I quarreled. Repeatedly. Then she sickened and died. In the end, she got her wish, in a manner of speaking. She will spend every Season in Highgate now.”
Dev had wanted to bury his wife in the parish churchyard, alongside other Colfax dead, but Lord Dewsbury had insisted on the fashionable cemetery that had just opened north of London. Elisabeth would have loved the handsome statuary that marked her grave.
Miss Halliwell drew back from the table, looking frankly horrified. Damn! This wasn’t helping his case, was it?
“I apologize if I seem hard-hearted,” Dev added. “I believe the marriage was doomed from the start. She accused me of cruelty in denying her the social life she wanted; I accused her of frivolity and extravagance. In the long run, we would never have been happy together.”
“I see.” Miss Halliwell took a sip of her tea, though it must have gone cold.
Dev could tell he was losing ground. “You are probably wondering why I married someone so obviously unsuited to me.”
She flicked her eyes back up, her expression suggesting that she had indeed wondered.
“Remember, my father and my stepmother chose a bride for me. I trusted their choice. Elisabeth was attractive and amiable, and I thought we would deal well together.” He smiled bitterly.
“After we married, it became clear that her opinions, her tastes, and her desires were incompatible with mine. I would never have proposed to her if I’d better understood her character. ”
“Surely the lesson here is that you should get to know a potential bride very well before you marry,” Miss Halliwell argued. “Not that you should marry a random stranger you picked up at the crossroads.”
That drew a reluctant chuckle from him. She might have a point. “The thing is, I don’t need a wife forever. Just long enough to foil my stepmother’s matchmaking scheme.”
“But marriage is forever! It’s not as if you can simply walk away after the ceremony.” Even her frown looked prim and proper.
“Oh, but you could,” Dev argued. “After the wedding, you could set up your own household. You need not live here at Hethersleigh unless you wish. You need not—” He floundered, not sure how best to introduce this delicate subject.
“Need not what?” She eyed him with visible suspicion.
Dev took the plunge. “While I would prefer to at least try sharing bed and board together, we need not consummate the marriage if you dislike the idea.” He had cousins aplenty who could inherit the baronetcy after him.
A bright flush filled her cheeks. “Sir, this is a most improper subject of conversation.” She sounded frostier than ever.
“Is it, though?” Dev gentled his voice. “If we are to be married, we had better lay out the ground rules now.” He knew better than anyone that it was not always possible to avoid nasty post-wedding surprises, but it would help if they entered the arrangement sharing the same understanding.
“We are not to be married. It is a ridiculous proposal.” She met his gaze without flinching. “How do I know you would keep your end of the bargain?”
“I will write a contract, if you like,” he offered.
“Specifying the amount of allowance you would receive in your lifetime, the details of your jointure, and the terms of our agreement.” There might be just enough time for his solicitor to help him draft a document tight enough to hold water in court.
She sat still, but the teacup in her hand trembled slightly. Was she considering it? Please say yes, he silently begged. He could not let Mabel win again. If he was going to make a mess of another marriage, he might as well do it on his own terms.
“Would it not be better to observe a courtship period before becoming officially betrothed?” she suggested. “This is very sudden.”
His shoulders slumped. “Yes, I know. Unfortunately, time is of the essence. I made a very rash promise to my stepmother and I have only a little time left to fulfill it.”
Miss Halliwell raised her eyebrows. “A rash promise?”
Dev winced. “Rash” was an understatement.
“After my father’s death, Lady Colfax started lecturing me about the need to marry again.
I made a deal with her: I told her that if she stopped badgering me, I would find a bride on my own, before my father had been in his grave for a year.
I promised that if I was not married by the first of November, she could choose a bride for me.
My stepmother kept her end of the bargain, so now I must keep mine. ”
She wrinkled her nose. “I must say, it sounds like a ridiculous promise.”
Dev sighed. He couldn’t disagree. “I made that deal six months ago. At the time, I already had a prospect in mind.” He grimaced. “Unfortunately, that courtship did not work out.”
Though Miss Grindley had initially welcomed Dev’s suit, she ultimately chose to marry a man closer to her own age. It was an understandable choice, but Dev wished she had made up her mind earlier. He would not be in this mess if he’d had time to pursue other options.
“But there is no way you and I could be married by the first of November, anyway,” Miss Halliwell argued. “It takes time to get a marriage license. You are going to lose your wager.”
“Not a wager, a deal,” he corrected. “And we wouldn’t need a license if we got married in Scotland. All we need to do is nip across the border, exchange vows, and hurry back. Easy!” He snapped his fingers.
Miss Halliwell’s jaw dropped. “Doesn’t it take days to get to Scotland?”
“A couple of days by coach, yes. But we can save time traveling by rail as far as the line takes us. We’d have to rent a chaise in Newcastle, but if we left tomorrow, I think we could reach the border on Saturday. What do you say?”
Dev stared beseechingly at the woman who held his fate in her hands.