“You lost ten thousand at Brooks’ last night, my lord.”
It stung, but he hoped that didn’t show. “And how did you find out about that, Mrs. Celestin?”
“There were many people there. Word is out. You cannot possibly pay.”
He looked down at his hands before gathering enough will to meet her eyes coolly. “My estates, decrepit though they are, will probably settle the bill.”
“I will pay that debt in return for your services for six weeks.”
He hadn’t expected to feel shock again. “Youdowant consolation of the flesh.”
Now she did blush, though her tone was chilly. “It seems an obsession of yours, my lord. Unfortunately for you, I am not at all interested.” She even dared to look him over, briefly, with patent lack of interest. “What I require is an escort and a bodyguard.”
“Hire a dragoon, madam.”
He began to rise, ready to throw her out, but something in her steady gaze pushed him back into his chair. Whatever this was about, she was deadly serious.
“A dragoon would not serve, my lord. To be precise, I wish you to pose as my affianced husband for the next six weeks, in payment for which I will give you ten thousand pounds. What is more, if you fulfill our agreement to the letter, I will give you a further ten thousand pounds at the end. You can drink it, game it, or use it to rescue your estates. That will be up to you.”
The little beat of excitement that started in his chest was a betrayal. He was as good as dead, dammit. He didn’t want this now.
He was lying.
It was the chance, the new beginning he’d been hunting for months. He wouldn’t show hope or excitement. He wouldn’t reveal his need to this madwoman.
“Tempting,” he drawled. “I have learned, however, that if a bargain appears too good to be true, it probably is.”
Her neatly arched brows rose. “What trap do you foresee? That I hold you to our mock betrothal? Do you object to marrying a fortune?”
“Not at all. Why don’t we simplify everything by marrying now?”
“Because you drink too much, and game too wildly, and, it would seem, choose the easy way out.”
He knew he was turning red. “I see. So, what benefit do you find in your strange arrangement that is worth twenty thousand pounds?”
She rose with admirable smoothness, rearranging her fabulous shawl so it didn’t drag on the floor. He was suddenly aware of full breasts and round hips beneath the elegant vertical flow of her ivory gown. Inappropriate for an almost-dead man to note such things but she was, in a chilly way, a very attractive woman.
“My purposes are none of your concern, my lord,” she said in a voice one might use to a greengrocer. “I merely require you to engage yourself to marry me, and to act for the next six weeks as if that were true. This does mean,” she added pointedly, “that you will have to act like a man I might wish to marry.”
“Ah,” he said, belatedly rising. The room wavered slightly, and he hadn’t drunk enough for that. He wondered if the pistol had worked, if this was some heavenly illusion.
“What dreams may come. . . .”
The smell of spilled wine soured the air, however. Surely heaven could do better than that. “You will expect me to resistexcessive drink and gaming, madam? Gad, will I have to squire you to Almack’s? They’d never let me in.”
“Almack’s is boring. Balls, routs, breakfasts, masquerades...” She gestured vaguely with a hand covered by fine cream kid in color remarkably like her fine cream skin. “I will require you to escort me to most events I attend, to stay by my side for the usual amount of time, and to be well mannered and sober. When not by my side, you will do nothing to shame my choice.”
“Alas. I must avoid my favorite opium dens and wild wenches?”
“You must avoid anyone hearing about them.” She looked him in the eye, despite being six inches shorter. “You are in love with me, Lord Vandeimen. For six weeks, and a payment of twenty thousand pounds, in the eyes of the world, you adore me.”
“Do I get to kiss you, then?” he asked, advancing on her, suddenly furious at this demanding woman who thought she could buy him, body and soul.
And probably could.
He found himself looking down the barrel of his pistol, held in her steady, but tense, hands. “You will never, ever, touch me without my permission.”
He smiled at the pointless threat. “Why not pull the trigger?” he drawled. “That will achieve my end, and save me from the sin of self-destruction.”
