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.
Chapter Five
All I wantedwas breakfast,Lucy thought. Was a hot cup of tea and a warm slice of toast too much to ask for? She’d initially been delighted by the offerings in the breakfast room. Now, her appetite had fled.
She should say no, of course. That was the responsible answer. She knew almost nothing about Sir Devlin, other than that he drank too much, believed in ghosts, and had a strained relationship with his stepmother. Nothing in that list inspired confidence in him.
Still, a little voice whispered that this could be the solution to all her problems. Geoffrey and Florence had been so worried about her accepting a position far from home. Imagine what they would think if she wrote to them, announcing that she was now Lady Colfax! A lump formed in Lucy’s throat as she imagined telling her sister that she had a home of her own at last.
Suddenly, the idea did not seem quite so impossible. “When you say anallowance, what exactly did you have in mind?” she asked cautiously.
A slow smile spread across Sir Devlin’s face. He looked downright diabolical as he pulled a leather-bound notebook from his pocket, opened it, and flipped through the pages.
“What would you say to a hundred pounds of pin money each quarter?” His voice was smooth, silky, seductive. He might have spoken just so to a woman whom he hoped to make his mistress.
Lucy shivered—but she kept listening.
“That would be your allowance if you lived here, at Hethersleigh. But if you preferred your own establishment, you would receive two hundred pounds a quarter instead.”
Lucy’s jaw dropped. “You’ll pay me more if Idon’tlive with you? I thought you wanted…” Unable to think of any polite wording, she resorted to a vague hand gesture.
“To live together?” Sir Devlin supplied. “Yes, I would like to at least attempt cohabiting as a married couple. But if you choose to maintain your own household, you will need additional monies for all the housekeeping expenses.”
“I suppose I would. Though I doubt I would needeight hundredpounds a year.” Geoffrey and Florence lived on much less, and they already had a second child on the way.
He shrugged. “Frankly, I think it is too little money. If you married me, you would be Lady Colfax. People would expect me to maintain you in comfort. I prefer not to be judged a miser.”
Lucy nodded. He might have a point there. If she set up her own household immediately after marrying Sir Devlin, there would be gossip. If she seemed to be struggling financially, the gossip would be worse.
“And I would make certain that you had at least as much by way of jointure in the event of my death,” he added. “I cannot promise that we would be happy together, but I can promise you a life of greater comfort than that of a governess or a companion.”
Lucy gnawed on her lower lip. If only she had more time to make this decision! She might be a fool to accept his offer—but then again, she might be a fool to reject it. Opportunities like this did not come along every day.
She was four-and-twenty years old, and Sir Devlin’s proposal was only the second one she’d ever received. His offer might not be particularly romantic, but it was frankly more appealingthan her cousin Ezra’s half-hearted offer to make her mistress of Brambleton Manor.
She studied Sir Devlin again, wondering what sort of husband he would make. When their eyes met, an invisible spark snapped between them, setting her heart racing. Making her catch her breath. Driving out all other thoughts.
Mercy, but he was an attractive man! And he could be her husband, if she had the courage to go through with his outrageous scheme. She could have a household and a family of her very own. Did she really want to throw this chance away and run home in defeat? Back to Geoffrey’s lectures, Florence’s warnings, and endless piles of mending?
Maybe he sensed her wavering. In any event, Sir Devlin leaned forward and took her hand. “Please, Miss Halliwell. By accepting my offer, you would not only ensure your future comfort. You would also do me a great kindness.”
Feeling bashful, she turned her face away. “And you promise to give me the time I need to… become better acquainted with you? After the wedding, I mean?” She slanted a glance back to him to see his reaction.
A puzzled line formed between his brows, but then his face cleared. “Of course. I would never pressure you into intimacies with which you were uncomfortable. You have my word on that.”
