Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
“Icannot give up yet,” Deborah whispered.
“What was that?” Cedric asked.
She looked away from the carriage window, from the looming estate that they had pulled up to several minutes ago, and took in Cedric’s face.
His usual mask of handsome unbotheredness met her directly.
He’d made it clear in their discussion from London to Calder that he not only did not care about what rumors but even went so far as to find them amusing and petty.
They were just something for him to laugh about when he was bored.
However, she had no ability to feel the same way. Rumors had destroyed her sister, and even though her first plan had failed, Sylvester still needed to pay.
“I cannot accept your proposal,” Deborah stated, her tone clear and stern. “I sympathize with your child, but I have my own plight to deal with and yours would only be a hindrance to what I need to do to fix it.”
Cedric’s expression remained unbothered as he stared directly back at her. Then he shrugged.
“Very well then,” he replied, his tone matching his expression.
Deborah let out a breath of relief.
“Thank you,” she breathed, “Now, if your driver would be kind enough to take me back to London I-”
“Oh, you will have to pay your debt to me first before I can ask my driver to make such a long journey so late,” he interrupted, then glanced down at his nails, as if inspecting them. “Fifty thousand pounds, I believe it was?”
Cold rushed in Deborah’s veins as her jaw dropped and her eyes widened.
“Can…” she stammered, and drew in a shaky breath as she licked her lips. “Can you not just go pick it up for me?”
Cedric gave her a confused look.
“Well, the money,” she went on, “That you spent, it would go to me, would it not? They still have it and you could just go back and collect it for-”
His laughter cut her off, and she hated how embarrassed it made her feel.
“You do not know how these auctions work, do you?” He asked.
Heat flooded into Deborah’s cheeks. She had made an assumption after Uncle Archibald had come home with money from Hester’s bid, but now she wondered if she had been wrong this entire time.
“Allow me to explain it for you,” Cedric offered, “You see, when a male guardian brings a woman to auction. he is eligible to take home what she earned at auction, save for ten percent. That goes to the House. However, when a woman appears at the auction alone, her payment is whatever safety or position her bidder gives her. The money raised by her sale, all of it, goes directly to the House.”
Deborah felt the color drain from her cheeks as she recalled her conversation with Nigel. Lord Stanhope sent me. Said I would not be sorry. She had unwittingly placed her bid back into the hands of the man responsible for the auction.
“I…” she said shakily, her usual gusto suddenly gone. She barely had fifty pounds to her name, let alone fifty thousand. “I do not have that sort of money, Your Grace.”
“Your Grace?” Cedric scoffed, “Over an hour we have spent in this carriage and now you choose to speak politely. Hm. Money must be quite the sensitive issue for you if it has you shifting so suddenly.”
Hurt and anger bloomed in her chest as she glared at him.
“You know it is,” she replied through gritted teeth.
“I do,” he agreed, giving her a half smile. “Pity that.”
Deborah slowly shook her head as her stomach clenched into knots.
“You are a monster,” she whispered.
Cedric’s little smile faded as his lips set into a grim line. He uncrossed his legs, spread them wide so that they took up most of the space between them, and leaned forward to drop his elbows on his knees, bringing his face a scant few inches away from hers.
She expected him to smell of sulfur and brimstone with the way he acted, but instead, as she inhaled, she caught a heady mixture of juniper, evergreen, and something just a little spicy. That he smelled so lovely made her hate him even more, and she willed herself not to breathe.
“You entered into that auction willingly, did you not?” He asked with grave seriousness.
“Yes, but-”
“And you knew the rules of the auction, did you not?” He cut her off.
“It was not supposed to be you,” she whispered, panic making her heart race, “It was not supposed to be you!”
“If you had an eye on a particular gentleman, you should have approached him for his favor in a different sort of venue.” Cedric’s hard tone cut through the tense air between them.
“You chose to go to the auction. That was your mistake, not mine.
Now, I won your bid outright. We both played by the rules of the institution, and by those facts alone, we should both feel as if we won.
“However, it is apparent that you, Miss Hunt, feel as if you have suffered a great loss.”
Each word he spoke gathered in intensity, cold and stern.
“Forcing women is not something that excites me, Miss Hunt, so I give you your choice. Marry me, take care of my ward, and be free of London’s rumor mill. The mantle of Duchess will do quite a surprising bit to protect you in many different ways.
“Or, you pay me my fifty thousand pounds and go back to the people that have caused you and your family so much harm. It is your choice.”
Deborah had thought that she could never hate someone as much as she hated Sylvester, but as she stared at the handsome devil across from her, she was beginning to wonder if she was wrong about that.
Everything he had said was true. Furthermore, he did have a point about the auction.
She had wanted to take that route as a sort of poetic justice, but her chances of getting to Sylvester would have been better if she had approached elsewhere, where there were fewer risks of her plan going awry.
“I will not let you touch me,” Deborah whispered, her voice vibrating with rage, “Married or not, you will not lay a hand on me.”
Cedric smirked as he leaned back into his seat.
“As I said earlier. Forcing women is not something that excites me,” he retorted, back to his wry, sarcastic manner.
Deborah rolled her eyes as her lips twinged toward a sneer.
“You are despicable,” she muttered.
“So I have been told,” he replied dryly, then gave a bored sigh.
“I can, however, also be generous when I feel so inclined. So, allow me to sweeten the pot, so to speak.”
“As if you could do anything sweet,” she remarked, and it earned her another dry laugh.
“Sparring with you is surprisingly fun,” he quipped, and she clenched her fists tight in her lap, willing herself not to punch him for teasing her when he already had her cornered.
“Here is my offer,” Cedric went on, “Come inside. It is late, and I was serious about not forcing my driver to take such a journey after an already long day. However, in the morning, if you still want to go, I will have him take you back home. Furthermore, if you do agree to be my wife and mother to my ward, I will give your mother and uncle the same price I gave to the auction, as a token of appreciation.”
That got Deborah’s attention. She pulled back her rage, willing it to cool from a boil to a simmer, and sat up a little straighter.
“Why would you do that?” She asked, eyeing him suspiciously. “You were a bratty boy, and I suspect such selfishness has followed you into adulthood.”
Cedric’s smirk widened into a grin as his dark eyes sparkled.
“Careful, Miss Hunt. Witty sarcasm is my love language, and if you do not wish for me to touch you, you mustn’t play with me so,” he replied coyly.
Deborah’s eyes narrowed, ignoring the way his threat sent shots of unwanted excitement through her veins.
“So,” He asked, ignoring her question as he reached for the door handle and opened the carriage, “I am going inside. You may sleep here if you wish, though we keep the carriages in the stables, and the smells in there at times can be quite ripe. Or you can sleep in a real bed in a lovely room in my house. And Miss Hunt? They truly are lovely. I do take pride in my home.”
He then shrugged. “Whatever you decide.”
He then leaned forward in his seat to exit the carriage, his large body unfolding from the small space and taking up most of the room.
Deborah’s brows shot up as she watched him exit, wondering suddenly how such a large man had even gotten into such a small seat to begin with.
Then, with a sigh of annoyance, she followed him.
“I suppose a bed would not hurt,” she muttered.
“Splendid choice,” Cedric wryly retorted. “Come along then. The staff is no doubt asleep, but I will show you to a room.”
Deborah stayed standing at the bottom of the stone path, watching with bristling annoyance as Cedric walked toward the door. His offer to pay her family seemed too good to be true. Could she turn it down? Fifty thousand pounds could go a long way for her family.
“I will not wait long,” Cedric called from the open front door.
Rolling her eyes, Deborah sneered at him. Still, she willed her feet to move and went inside with Cedric.
“Rubbish,” Deborah sighed, rolling over yet again in her bed.
She leaned up, plumped her pillow, and lay her head down again.
The effort to get comfortable and finally sleep failed for the twelfth time, and with a snarl of frustration, Deborah flung back the expensive bedding, threw her legs over the side of the bed, and took a long look around the room.