“Anymore?”
Under his too-keen gaze, she shifted in her seat. “Since my father’s death some five years ago, I have either lived with my sister or in the home of an employer.” She sat up straighter as she added, “I possess only a small fortune of my own, and lack sufficient income to live independently.”
At least, not genteelly, she silently added. There were, no doubt, many spinsters in England who lived on fifty pounds a year. But they were not expected to keep up appearances. According to Lucy’s sister, a Halliwell of Brambleton Manor could not eke out a living in cheap lodgings.
Sir Devlin nodded. “Hence, your need to seek a position as governess or companion.”
“Yes. Unfortunately, the position I thought I had secured has... fallen through.” Lucy’s throat tightened as she remembered her disappointment last night. Not only had Mrs. Macrae moved away without informing Lucy that her services were no longer needed, but the new tenant at Starnhold had slammed the door in Lucy’s face rather than aid her.
“I suppose I must return to my sister’s home and look for a new situation.” She did not look forward to that homecoming. Florence would worry and scold. Florence’s husband, Geoffrey, would play the part of the superior male and shake his head at this new evidence of Lucy’s supposed folly. And if Cousin Ezra found out, he would worry about damage to the Halliwell name.
“As to that.” Sir Devlin put down his coffee cup and leaned forward in his chair. “I may be able to help.”
Lucy eyed him warily. “I thought you said you had no need of a governess?” If he had neither wife nor child, he could have no use for her services.
“I certainly do not need a governess,” he agreed. “But after thinking it over, I’ve realized that I might indeed be in need of a companion—of sorts.”
Lucy did her best to restrain her hope. “For whom?”
“As it happens, I need a companion for myself.”
A sick weight filled Lucy’s stomach. Gentlemen did not hire ladies as companions. Not proper ladies, anyway.
“No, thank you.” She broke out her coldest, starchiest tones. “I am a respectable woman.”
He blinked at her. “Obviously, or you wouldn’t be a governess! Why—oh!” A flush rose up his neck. “Not that kind of proposition, madam. A perfectly respectable offer.”
“Of employment?” She wrinkled her forehead. Was she missing something here?
He ran a hand through his hair. “Not exactly employment, but certainly a comfortable situation.” He drew a deep breath, then spoke in a rush. “I happen to need a wife by the end of the month. I wonder if you would be interested in the position?”
Chapter Four
Miss Halliwell staredat 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?”
