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“Yes.”
She took a deep breath, pleased with how their negotiations were progressing. “I have been told by many, my choices for reading are not delicate or of the sort of material and tracts a young lady should read. I would like to select my own reading material and not be confined in such a regard.”
“Done.”
She froze.
Why is he being so accommodating?
“I will not be abandoned in the country, Scotland, or the West Indies.”
Amusement gleamed in his gaze. “If that is your wish?”
His capitulations were alarming her. “Most assuredly.” What would he say to her final demand?
“You’re awfully accommodating,” she said suspiciously.
“I’m a reasonable man.”
Hope surged hotly in her breast. “I want it in our…our marriage contract that…that I will be allowed to continue my work.”
He appeared riveted, then he scrubbed a hand over his face. “Work?”
Livvie swallowed, appreciative of the shaky ground upon which she stood. “Yes, my lord…I paint.”
“I know, and your talent is something wonderful. I have never witnessed such skill in one so young.”
Dizzying pleasure filled her. “Thank you.”
“I would not begrudge you any hobby. I have my own interests.”
Her heart raced. “It is not a hobby, Tobias. I sold my last painting for twenty guineas to Squire Wentworth. I…I made his acquaintance in Bath a few months ago, and he admired my work most ardently.”
For an instant, he looked totally nonplussed. “The Countess of Blade will not work.”
She rushed over to him. “I…I cannot give up painting. It is as integral as breathing to me,” she said softly. “I took up my first brush at three years of age and I have never stopped painting since.”
His features softened. “Then do not stop. Convert entire rooms at all of our houses if you will for your work space.”
“Oh! Thank you, Tobias, I—”
“However, you will not advertise your talent for sale. I will set aside an allowance for you of two hundred guineas monthly. I trust that will suffice?”
She had sold over thirty paintings in the past year and had not managed to save such an amount. “I…yes, my lord, that is beyond generous.” Would he understand her need to earn something for herself and not to be solely dependent on his goodwill and income? She held back the words begging to tumble from her lips. She had achieved some victories tonight, more than she had ever hoped for. One day at a time.
“Are you now prepared to hear my terms?”
She nodded. It was subtle, but the easygoing, relaxing man vanished. “There will be no scandal, tantrums, or tears.” He regarded her with measured, glittering eyes. “The last thing I expect to hear is gossip about my wife, ever. Is that very clear?”
She looked thoughtfully across at him. “I will endeavor to comport myself to your expectations.” She would be a paragon of grace, modesty, and demureness…even if it killed her.
“Do not ever change, Livvie.”
She suppressed the ghost of her father’s whisper. The earl would have no cause to regret marrying her. Livvie was not only marrying him for her sake but for her family. However… “I cannot promise you no tears. There may be a time—”
“None. Tears, tantrums, and fainting spells are a mere form of manipulation and deception utilized by the wielder. Women use tears as artfully as fans are used for flirting. If you ever approach me in such a manner, I promise you, the very next day you will be at another estate.”
“I will do all in my power to be as expected.”
