Chapter One #2
Her neatly arched brows rose. “What trap do you foresee? That I hold you to our mock betrothal? Do you object to marrying a fortune?”
“Not at all. Why don’t we simplify everything by marrying now?”
“Because you drink too much, and game too wildly, and, it would seem, choose the easy way out.”
He knew he was turning red. “I see. So, what benefit do you find in your strange arrangement that is worth twenty thousand pounds?”
She rose with admirable smoothness, rearranging her fabulous shawl so it didn’t drag on the floor.
He was suddenly aware of full breasts and round hips beneath the elegant vertical flow of her ivory gown.
Inappropriate for an almost-dead man to note such things but she was, in a chilly way, a very attractive woman.
“My purposes are none of your concern, my lord,” she said in a voice one might use to a greengrocer.
“I merely require you to engage yourself to marry me, and to act for the next six weeks as if that were true. This does mean,” she added pointedly, “that you will have to act like a man I might wish to marry.”
“Ah,” he said, belatedly rising. The room wavered slightly, and he hadn’t drunk enough for that. He wondered if the pistol had worked, if this was some heavenly illusion.
“What dreams may come. . . .”
The smell of spilled wine soured the air, however. Surely heaven could do better than that. “You will expect me to resist excessive drink and gaming, madam? Gad, will I have to squire you to Almack’s? They’d never let me in.”
“Almack’s is boring. Balls, routs, breakfasts, masquerades .
. .” She gestured vaguely with a hand covered by fine cream kid in color remarkably like her fine cream skin.
“I will require you to escort me to most events I attend, to stay by my side for the usual amount of time, and to be well mannered and sober. When not by my side, you will do nothing to shame my choice.”
“Alas. I must avoid my favorite opium dens and wild wenches?”
“You must avoid anyone hearing about them.” She looked him in the eye, despite being six inches shorter. “You are in love with me, Lord Vandeimen. For six weeks, and a payment of twenty thousand pounds, in the eyes of the world, you adore me.”
“Do I get to kiss you, then?” he asked, advancing on her, suddenly furious at this demanding woman who thought she could buy him, body and soul.
And probably could.
He found himself looking down the barrel of his pistol, held in her steady, but tense, hands. “You will never, ever, touch me without my permission.”
He smiled at the pointless threat. “Why not pull the trigger?” he drawled. “That will achieve my end, and save me from the sin of self-destruction.”
Her eyes widened, and for the first time he saw overt fear. She’d put herself in a situation she didn’t understand and couldn’t control, and had the wit to know it.
It was about time she learned some other lessons.
Glancing to one side to distract her, he snatched the pistol. She gasped and stepped back, pale becoming pallid.
He was tempted to seize her, press the useless pistol to her lush breasts, and claim the kiss he’d threatened. Disgusted by that, he snapped, “Leave.”
She looked at him, breathing rapidly. “You are rejecting my offer?”
He wanted to say yes, but the same impulse that had sent him to the tables ruled him here. “No. You’ve bought six weeks of my life, Mrs. Celestin. I accept your terms. However, I’ll need an advance on the second ten thousand if I’m to put on a show worthy of you. I am literally penniless.”
Now that she had what she wanted, she attempted her former manner, but she couldn’t hide her fear. Not a foolish woman, at least.
“I’ll deposit eleven thousand for you at Perry’s Bank,” she said, a touch of panic fluttering in her voice.
“One thousand is advance on our final settlement. Arrange your affairs, my lord, and have a night’s rest. We can meet formally tomorrow at the Duchess of Yeovil’s ball. Do you have an invitation?”
He glanced at the messy pile of cards and envelopes on the desk. “Probably. Even a ruined lord is a lord.”
She too looked at the pile, lips suddenly pursing.
What was it? A powerful urge to organize?
Was she a meddlesome, managing woman? He almost set limits on their bargain, especially that she keep her fingers out of his affairs, but why fool himself?
He’d come this far and would go further if necessary.
He’d sell himself to her in any way she wanted for nine thousand clear and a fresh start. She didn’t need to know that, however.
“Is that all, Mrs. Celestin?” he asked in a bored tone, pistol still in his hand.
She jerked slightly, nodded, and after a hesitation where she clearly felt there was more to be said, walked rapidly out of the room.
Maria paused for a moment on the landing, a faint shudder passing through her. Athena, but she’d almost been too late. A few more seconds . . . ! And then she’d pointed his pistol at him, threatening to kill him.
She pressed a gloved hand to her mouth. Was anything more absurd? She’d never held a pistol before in her life, and then he’d dared her to kill him as if he wanted it! He was so young, so full of promise. Was self-destruction too deeply rooted to be pulled out?
Then he’d taken the weapon from her. So easily. She should have expected that from a man known as Demon Vandeimen. She should have expected that uncivilized edge anyway. He’d survived a long and bloody war. Of course he wasn’t safe!
She hurried out of the house. Her liveried footman leaped forward to open the carriage door and assist her in to sit beside her aunt.
Harriette Coombs, round in face and body, was merry by nature, but knew when to worry. Like Maria, she was a widow, but she had enjoyed thirty years of happy marriage instead of ten years of mixed blessings. She had three children set up in the world, whereas Maria had none.
Maria sometimes felt that except for wealth, she had nothing. No, not true. She had Aunt Harriette.
“Home,” she said, and as soon as the footman shut the door, the coach began to roll away from the most difficult thing she had done in her life.
“Well?” asked Harriette.
“I was almost too late! He was . . . No one answered the door. Some instinct made me enter anyway, and he was . . . He had a pistol in his hand, ready to fire!”
“By my soul! You promised him the money, dear? He will be different now?”
“I did, but—” It had all been done in urgency and on impulse, and now reaction was setting in.
“He looked so terrible, Harriette. Haggard. Clothes all awry. The room stank of wine and he was drunk. I was going to pretend the money was an old informal debt, but I knew I couldn’t do that. He’d probably have gamed it away tomorrow!”
“So what did you do?”
Maria bit her lip, unwilling to even put her ridiculous plan into words. “I . . . I bought him. For six weeks. For six weeks, Lord Vandeimen is to be my besotted, impeccably behaved, husband-to-be and escort.”
Harriette’s eyes widened, but she said, “Very clever, dear! If he has any honor at all, he will have to behave well, and it may give him a chance to change.”
“Will it work?”
Harriette patted her hand. “You’ve done the best you can, dear. It will expose you to talk, though.”
“Oh! I’ll look like—”
“A widow after tender meat.”
“A tender wastrel, even. People will think me a complete fool. Or a predatory harpy. Harriette, he’s eight years younger than I am!”
“I was eight years younger than Cedric.”
“It’s not the same.” Maria sucked in a deep breath. “I have to do it, though. Maurice swindled his father out of that money. Ruined him, and pushed him to suicide. I have to put it right, at any cost.”
She leaned her head back against the satin squabs.
“Did I mention that he is beautiful? Hair the color of primroses. Classic bones. Lips so perfect they could have been carved. A mess, of course, after the wild life he’s led recently, and scarred.
But still, Lord Vandeimen is the most beautiful young man I ever stood face to face with. ”
And the world would think her turned idiot because of it.
Harriette squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry, dear. While you’re pulling him back from the brink, I’ll look around for a suitable young lady for him, one with a strength of character and a generous dowry.”
Maria smiled. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
She firmly ignored a betraying stir of dissatisfaction with that plan.