“Even the count should consider you a hero after you foiled two anarchist attacks.” A corner of her mouth pulled tight at the mention of the attacks.
“I don’t come from aristocracy. Thetonconsider me a social climber without scruples. My title only caused more mistrust and embarrassment. Some say I’m behind the attack on the queen, that I hired the assassin only to stop him and become a hero.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
He liked how indignant she sounded on his behalf.
He bowed his head. “I’m glad you agree with me for once.”
She was flustered. “I agree with you rather often.”
“That brings me some comfort.”
“Who spread the accusations about the attack on the queen?”
He exhaled. “Dear old Nigel, Sir Howard’s son. Sir Howard helped me build my shipping company at the docks. His son fiercely disagreed with his father’s decision. He accused me of ingratiating myself with his father only for money. He wasn’t happy about his father’s interest in me.”
“I thought Sir Howard’s family were grateful to you for saving their lives.”
“Sir Howard was. His wife and daughter were very kind to me. Nigel is another matter. In fact, Nigel means to buy the count’s property, throw out the people who live in that area, and build something new. I’m not sure what, but I’m sure the last thing those people need is to lose their homes. I’ll do my best to stop Nigel’s project.”
“Good on you.” She rolled a pencil back and forth.
The wide sleeve of his nightgown slipped back, revealing her elbow. She had a nice elbow as elbows went, that is. Oh, hell. There was something wrong with him.
“I’m sure the count will find your project worthy of his attention,” she said. “You have only to find a wife.”
“Where? How? I wouldn’t know where to start to find one.” Actually, he did, but the timing wasn’t the best. She needed time before he could court her properly. Yes, sod it. He couldn’t pretend he wasn’t interested in her. He wanted to woo her. There. He’d said it.
She stopped tormenting the pencil, for which he was grateful. Her lovely arm distracted him. “Surely, you must know a lady willing to marry you. There must be a debutante eager to find a titled, rich husband.”
“A debutante?” He unfolded his arms. “Some slip of a girl still wet behind the ears? Hell, no.”
“I understand. What about a widow? You must know a grown woman looking for someone to share her lonely life with.”
“No, I don’t know any widows.” He scratched his stubble, raking a glance over her. What if he proposed? That wasn’t a bad idea.
“I can’t believe that you don’t have any lady friends.”
“Violante,” he said, still watching her. “It’s not easy to find a woman I like enough to ask to marry me. I need someone whom I trust and who understands who I am and the current situation.” He raised his eyebrows.
“Whom do you have in—” She straightened, a hand on her chest. “Oh, I see. You’re thinking about me. Clever.”
“Exactly.” After she recovered fully, she’d be ready to meet the count as Keith’s wife. He was glad she didn’t recoil at the possibility of marrying him. Unexpected, but who was he to complain?
“Although there’s a problem.” She touched her chin. “The count values honesty and honour above everything else, and lying to him and deceiving him is a risky strategy. I mean we can do it, but we must be careful.”
“What are you talking about? I have no intention of lying. I’m against deceiving, especially in business.”
“Well, introducing me as your wife is an obvious lie. I can make it work, though. Once, I impersonated a nun to steal from a dowager viscountess. I’m sure I can play the role of your wife well.” A mischievous gleam lit her eyes.
“Actually.” Keith thrust his chest out. She’d misunderstood him. “What I’m clumsily trying to say is that we could get married. For real. Not a deceit. We could ask for a special licence and get married in a few days. That way, I won’t be lying about who I am. I can commit to marriage. I share the count’s values of honesty and respect. That’s what I offer to you.”
He wished he sounded more determined and not scared. But he was ready to take care of her, and it was true he didn’t have any love interest. He hated to use her poverty as leverage, but she needed to be taken care of properly, and he would fully commit to her. Making her happy was a worthy pursuit. He couldn’t forget her kindness when he’d needed help. She’d taught him to read and write. She’d saved his life. The tenderness he felt for her was too strong to be ignored.
“You can’t be serious.” She leant back in the chair in shock.
“I’m very serious. Think about how your life would change.”
