“No,” he replied.
Why was he making this so difficult?
“I only meant if that is what you wanted. I have no desire for such things. In any case, I’m telling you that you can be free—inasmuch as you can be free while married to me. But you can travel if you like. You can live in the cottage on your own if you like, or in the London townhouse if you prefer.”
She sat back, shaking her head.
She was going to say no. He was sure of it.
“I do not know,” she said instead, surprising him. “I must think about it.”
“Very well,” he replied. “Think about it, but not for too long. I must let them know.” He grimaced. “I might have implied that I was engaged already, in order to buy myself some time. Otherwise, they would’ve likely severed all ties.”
“I see. And did you tell them you were getting married soon as well?”
“I might have implied that I’m going to get married within the next six weeks.”
“Right,” she uttered.
“So, if you are going to think about it?—”
“I will make haste,” she promised. “You’ll have my answer by tomorrow.”
Tomorrow. Twenty-four hours. He was going to have to suffer and struggle for twenty-four hours, hoping that the estate he had inherited from his father, with all its problems, was not going to slip through his fingers, destroying not only his life but that of the many tenants who relied on him.
He watched her face, trying to read her thoughts.
She was impossible to read sometimes—all fire and sharp wit one moment, vulnerable and uncertain the next. He had no idea which Frances would give him the answer tomorrow. And that terrified him more than losing the estate ever could.
