by Kate Pearce
“My brother Adam faced the same challenges, my lord. It took him years to pay off my father’s creditors,” Margaret said. “Have you consulted with your bank?”
“Yes, but that isn’t the whole of it. Unfortunately, my cousin didn’t believe in banks and merely borrowed money against his expectations from various sources who are now rather keen to get it back.”
“It does seem rather unfair that you are now liable for everything,” Margaret said.
“Thank you.” His smile twisted. “I’m sure I’ll come about at some point.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips. “And now, having bored you with my affairs for long enough, let’s turn to you. How are you, Miss Blackthorn?”
“The same as ever.” It was Margaret’s turn to lose her smile. “I try and keep busy.”
“Doing what exactly?”
She shrugged. “Helping out at home and with the factory schools, knitting and sewing for the poor, attending functions.”
He looked down at her. “With all due respect, Miss Blackthorn, I can’t see any of those tasks keeping you occupied for long.”
“Unfortunately, as a woman, I’m not allowed to do much else,” she admitted. “Sometimes… it annoys me.”
“I can see why.” He looked up at his host came toward them. “If it will not inconvenience you, Francis, I might stay the night after all.”
“Good.” Their host nodded. “No point in rushing off. I assume you’ll be heading down to London at some point to speak to your bank?”
Lord Hellion shuddered. “Yes. I can’t say I’m looking forward to it. I suspect I’ll uncover even more unpaid bills and assets left to rot.”
“It’s a veritable scandal what that pair did to the estate.” Francis slapped his friend on the back. “I’ll do what I can to help, but you need an influx of capital, my friend, and quickly.”
Margaret excused herself as the two men continued to chat, and walked over to sit by the fire. She had money, but it was all tied up in her brother’s hands, not to be released until she decided whom she wanted to marry. She doubted her financially astute brother would permit her to lend all her capital to a man she’d only met on three occasions. Why she was even contemplating helping that particular man was not something she was willing to delve into, either.
It just seemed unfair that he should have to pay for the sins of his grandfather and cousin. She suspected that her father’s debt paled into insignificance beside Lord Hellion’s relatives. She stared into the fire, her hands grasped tightly together in her lap.
But what if there was a way to help him? Did she have the courage to broach the subject, and what would he think of her if she did?
Alistair managed to avoid the gentlemen after dinner by declining the port and proclaiming his tiredness and need to go straight to bed. He had no desire to sit in a room full of hard-headed businessmen and be grilled as to his lack of capital and unlikely chances of ever restoring the dukedom.
Francis would help him restructure his loans, but the burden of sorting out the estate and repaying the staggering debts was all on him. For a moment, he paused in the hall as the weight of it settled around him before shrugging it off and continuing onward. He’d managed on his reduced expectations from his own father; he’d even survived a military career. He’d be damned if he’d allow his cousin’s debts to drown him.
“Lord Hellion?”
He turned at the bottom of the stairs as Miss Blackthorn emerged from the shadows, her expression grave.
“Yes?”
“May I speak to you?”
He frowned and mentally consigned her to Hades, even as he wondered what she might wish to say to him.
“I was just going up to bed.”
“Oh!” She bit her lip, but still met his gaze. “Well, never mind.”
“You could join me?”
“In your bed? I hardly think that would be proper.”
It occurred to him that he wouldn’t mind it at all. He pictured her there, brown hair down on her shoulders, and her strong, lush body beneath him…
With a sigh, he gestured at the study. “We can talk in there, if you wish? I don’t think we will be disturbed for a while.”
“I can’t stay long. My sister will wonder where I am.” Margaret followed him across the darkened hall to Francis’s study.
He shut the door and bent to light the candles on the desk from the fire partially illuminating the large room.
“How can I assist you, Miss Blackthorn?”
She regarded him warily, her hands fisted at her sides, her head tilted at an angle. He liked the simplicity of her green dress and the smoothness of her upswept hair, which suited her far better than the laces and curls her sister preferred.
“You will probably think I have gone mad.”
“I won’t think anything unless you start speaking.”
She took a visible breath that made her bosom swell over the narrow lace-trimmed neckline of her bodice. “I know that you need money.”
He shrugged. “I cannot deny it.”
“Then I have a suggestion for you. I thought that maybe I could lend you some of my capital and act as your banker, but then I realized my brother would never allow me access to my funds.”
Alistair sat on the corner of the desk and regarded her in fascination. “I should imagine not.”
“The only way for me to access my dowry is to marry.”
Silence fell, disturbed only by the ticking of a clock and his companion’s harried breathing.
“Are you proposing to me?” Alistair finally asked.
She turned and walked away from him, presenting him with her back. “I thought that maybe we could come to some business arrangement, whereas—”
“Business arrangement?”
“As in a marriage of convenience that would suit us both.”
“I fail to understand how such an arrangement would benefit you, Miss Blackthorn,” Alistair countered. “Your fortune would become mine and so would you. What could you possibly gain from such a union?”
“My freedom?”
“In what sense?” Alistair frowned.
“That married women are allowed to do so much more than single ones. That you would be a—a complacent husband and would not stop me from expanding my interests.”
“Complacent as in letting you have lovers?”
“No!” She swung back around, her expression appalled. “I wouldn’t even expect you to want that for yourself.”
“Why not?”
She blinked at him. “Because you would be agreeing to a business arrangement, not a marriage for love.”
“And what if that was one of my conditions? That our marriage had to be consummated?” He was so tired and overwhelmed by his current circumstances that he’d forgotten how to dissemble. He also knew that the plain-speaking woman in front of him would not have tolerated anything less than the truth.
“You would really want that?”
He raised an eyebrow, aware that he was starting to enjoy himself and having no idea why, because the whole idea was laughable. “Don’t you want children?”
“Yes, but—I wouldn’t wish to impose my needs on you.”
“Miss Blackthorn, bedding you would not be a hardship, I can assure you.”
“Then you will consider my offer?” She took a step toward him, her expression hopeful.
He helped himself to some of Francis’s excellent brandy as he considered his options. “You are offering me what amounts to a marriage of convenience. I gain control of your fortune, and you gain control of your life.”
“Exactly.” Miss Blackthorn bit her lip. “From the look on your face, you really do think I have run mad.”
“Not at all, although I must confess that I did not expect such an… offer from you.”
“I’m not sure why I thought of it, myself.” She drew herself up. “And I quite understand if you wish to pretend that it never happened. I will certainly never refer to it again.�
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She went to move past him, and he took possession of her hand. “Wait. Sit down. I need to think.” He led her toward the chair behind the desk.
“I cannot stay much longer, my lord. My sister will be wondering where I am.”
“I’ll be as brief as I can.” He brought another chair up and sat next to her. “If I agree to your proposal, we will need to talk further about the details. If I go to your brother now and ask to marry you he would rightfully be suspicious of my motives.”
“Agreed.” She gave a decisive nod.
“Then perhaps we can meet tomorrow at breakfast, and plan this ridiculous idea through more thoroughly?”
“Tomorrow? I thought you were leaving at dawn.”
Alistair smiled at her. “As you said, Miss Blackthorn, the estate is hardly going to fall down in one more day.”
“I’ll ask Caroline if I can stay the night so that I can see you in the morning before you leave,” Miss Blackthorn said.
“An excellent plan. I’m an early riser.”
“So am I. When we lived in the millhouse I used to get up at six to see Adam off on his shift.” She shrugged as if embarrassed by the memory. “Even after all these years, I can’t seem to stay abed any longer.”
“Then I will look for you bright and early.” Alistair stood up when she did and cupped her cheek. “May I kiss you goodnight?”
Her sigh was almost comical. “I suppose if we are to be intimate, we have to start somewhere.”
He gently pressed his lips to hers and then kissed along her jawline to her ear. Her hand came up to curve around his neck, and he returned his attention to her mouth, seeking entrance, which she eventually offered him on a gasp of breath.
“Mmm.” He explored her mouth until her tongue tangled with his, and her whole body was pressed against him. “That’s nice.”
“That’s—”
He kissed her again, and she forgot to speak, her fingers curling into his hair as he drew her deeper into the caress. When he reluctantly released her, she pressed her hand to her mouth, her eyes wide with a mixture of emotions he was too tired to read.
“I should go.”
He stepped back and bowed. “Good night, Miss Blackthorn.”
He let her leave, and remained where he was, sipping his brandy and staring into space. Of all the solutions to his problems, marrying an heiress had not occurred to him. Members of his own class would be quite aware of the state of the dukedom and unlikely to risk allying their daughters and families with a sinking ship. Miss Blackthorn, however, was different.
Did she want a title? He had no sense that it was important to her, and he had learned to detect and depress such eagerness in other women over the years. If he married her, would he regret the chance to seek out his one true love? He had to suspect that by the time he’d dug the estate out of debt he’d be too old and exhausted to be hanging out for a bride, and he didn’t particularly believe in love, anyway.
Which left the unpalatable fact that marrying Miss Blackthorn would be a good thing for him. He finished his brandy and still didn’t move. She was very pleasant to look at, with a stately grace that intrigued him, a little sharp-tongued, and nobody’s fool. He could do a lot worse…
Half disgusted with the mercenary nature of his thoughts, Alistair set the chair back in place and went back out into the hall. Light shone from the drawing room where the ladies were enjoying their tea before being joined by the men. He started up the stairs, his mind in a muddle as exhaustion seeped into his bones. He’d sleep and speak to Miss Blackthorn again in the morning—if she hadn’t instantly regretted her impulsive offer to marry him.
Margaret approached the breakfast room with some trepidation, and only let out a relieved breath when it became clear that Lord Hellion was the only person sitting at the table. It hadn’t taken much effort to persuade Lottie to stay with her at Grafton Hall while Emily, her mother, and Adam returned home. She’d woken early and left her sister fast asleep in their shared room.
“Good morning, Miss Blackthorn.” The marquess stood and bowed to her with his usual fluid grace.
“Good morning, my lord.” She went over to the long sideboard that sat against the wall and helped herself to some food from the silver-domed plates. “I doubt my sister will join us, but what about Captain Grafton and Caroline?”
“Francis has already left for Millcastle, and Caroline is not an early riser. We are quite safe, and if anyone does come in, we can remove ourselves to the drawing room or somewhere quieter.”
He pulled out the chair beside his, and Margaret sat down. She fussed around with her food before she gained the courage to look up at him. His eyes were very blue and marked underneath with purple shadows.
“Did you sleep at all?” she asked.
“I tried.” He shrugged. “But there is so much going on at the moment that as soon as I sort out one issue, another pops into my brain, and off I go again.” He paused. “Have you changed your mind?”
“About our potential marriage? No, I have not.” It was Margaret’s turn to hesitate. “What about you?”
“I must confess that the idea appeals to me, but I’m also aware that I’m being very selfish.” He met her gaze. “I have to be honest with you. Even your inheritance might not be enough to save my estates.”
“I am not quite sure of the exact amount, but I can assure you that it is quite substantial. And having available capital would give you the standing to borrow more, yes?”
“Indeed.”
He was looking at her as if she were a very strange beast.
“Do young ladies of your class not talk about money?” Margaret hazarded a guess.
“No, they don’t, but I wish they would. It is mightily refreshing to have an honest conversation about my finances.” He sighed and shoved his fingers through his thick blond hair. “I would hate to drag you down into debt with me.”
“I doubt that will happen,” Margaret said stoutly. “My brother would not allow it, and if the worst came to the worst, he would always offer us a home.”
A faint shudder ran through her companion. “You, perhaps, but he’d be justified in kicking my arse all the way to the poorhouse if I brought you that low.”
“I have faith that together we will manage to avoid that fate, my lord.” Margaret took a hasty breath. “And, as to that. If we do marry, I would prefer it if you consulted me about financial decisions.” She braced herself for his rejection of her bold plea.
He nodded. “Understandably, as it will be your money keeping us afloat.”
“You… would allow that?”
“I would.” His smile was wry. “But I could be the kind of man to say anything in order to get his hands on your money and then renege on every promise.”
“One would assume that my brother could put something in the marriage contract to protect me from such behavior,” Margaret countered.
“He could, but how enforceable it would be in a court of law is debatable. In my experience, the law tends to side with the husband in such matters.” Lord Hellion sipped his coffee. “What else?”
“What do you mean?” Margaret asked.
“What other conditions do you have for me?”
“I can’t think of anything else right now.” Margaret gave her attention to her plate. “What about you?”
“Good Lord, I’m the one receiving your splendiferous dowry. What on earth would I have to complain about?” He finished his coffee and poured himself another cup after offering her one that she declined. “Before you make your final decision, you should come up and see the estate.”
“Which is where, exactly?” Margaret asked.
“The main one is about twenty miles from here.”
Margaret dabbed at her mouth with her napkin. “That would mean we’d have to stay overnight.”
“Indeed. I might admit Francis into my confidence, and ask him to arrange an outing for you, your sister, and hopefully a chaperone. What do you think?�
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“My brother will be suspicious.”
He shrugged. “Then he can come, too.”
There was a hint of autocratic impatience in his reply that reminded Margaret of the very different worlds they inhabited.
“Adam is rarely able to take time away from his businesses.”
“Then he’ll have to trust you or send his wife.” Lord Hellion set down his cup. “I’ll speak to Francis when he returns—if you are agreeable.”
“Yes, I am.” Margaret offered him an encouraging smile.
In truth, the prospect of some excitement in her life was remarkably invigorating. She had no idea of the extent of Lord Hellion’s estates or his new responsibilities, but, to her astonishment, she was more than willing to find out.
Chapter 4
To Margaret’s complete surprise, in less than two days she found herself in a carriage accompanied by Caroline’s mother, Mrs. Delisle, and Lottie, heading up toward Lord Hellion’s family estate. She wasn’t quite sure how everything had been arranged so quickly after the Graftons became involved, but she wasn’t about to grumble.
It was the longest journey Margaret had ever been on without her brother, and thus a delight in its own way. They passed through many villages and a few towns that reminded her rather too much of Millcastle. Mrs. Delisle was determined not to sit in the carriage for hours and had arranged for their accommodation at a reputable inn along the way.
“Not far now, Lottie, my dear,” Mrs. Delisle called out, waking Margaret from her slight doze. “It was very kind of Lord Hellion to ensure that our journey was made in such comfort.”
“Lord Hellion?” Margaret asked as she yawned and rubbed her eyes. “I assumed that Adam had arranged everything.”
“We decided not to bother Mr. Blackthorn,” Mrs. Delisle said firmly. “Caroline and I agreed that the less he knew about your plans the better. But without Lord Hellion’s detailed instructions, I doubt I would’ve had the courage to venture forth at all.”
“What will Adam think when half the women in his household are missing?” Lottie chuckled. “I know our brother is a busy man, but even he might notice that.”
“Emily will explain to him that we are staying with Caroline for a few days to keep her spirits up,” Mrs. Delisle said. “And, if nothing comes of your visit, Margaret, then we will have nothing to tell Adam.”