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“So you’ve gotten offers before?”
She jerked her chin in a nod. “From men old enough to be my father. They all just wanted my dowry. And I know that your intentions are not exactly pure either.”
“That’s not true,” Thorn hastened to interrupt.
“It’s not?” Her features twisted into a frown, eyes searching his face.
“I do need a wife,” Thorn elaborated. “Someone my father would disapprove of. Your father wants the opposite; he wants to be approved by society. We are a match made in heaven, wouldn’t you say?”
She clenched her jaw, her eyes dropping to study the intricate pattern of the floor beneath their feet.
Thorn reached out and gently tipped her chin up with his finger. An easy smile finally softened her features, transforming her face. She was rather beautiful when she was relaxed, Thorn admitted to himself, watching the way her eyes brightened.
She was still but a child, innocent, barely out in society. But she wasn’t naive. She seemed to have a mind of her own, and she didn’t take things lightly. Outside of society’s eyes, perhaps they could have an amicable marriage. Perhaps they could become friends.
“What you describe sounds more like a business transaction than a match made in heaven, my lord.” Her voice wavered slightly. “Now, I am not looking for a love match…” She lowered her eyes, not to watch her feet this time, but more to hide the flicker of emotion that crossed her face. She was lying. She was hoping for a love match. That complicated things.
“I am afraid love is something I cannot give you.” Thorn’s voice cracked a bit at the admission.
She lifted her questioning gaze. “How about loyalty? Respect?”
Thorn cleared his throat, tugging at his cravat. “That is something we can negotiate.”
She let out a deep sigh, her shoulders sagging slightly. “Apologies for being direct. But I believe it is best to be honest.”
“I appreciate that.”
They danced in silence for the next few moments until she looked up at him again. “My father needs an heir to his fortune. Only a male issue can inherit that, and he has five daughters.” They stepped apart, then back together in time with the music. “He is not exactly old, but he is worried that we will be hunted by unscrupulous men the moment he passes. But he also wants his line to be respected in society.” Their hands met briefly as they circled each other. “That’s why I spent the past two years a wallflower in these grand ballrooms. Yet, he doesn’t want me to be miserable. Or he would have married me off to the first impoverished old lord who asked.” A shiver passed through her. “I can’t imagine spending my nights with them.”
“And you can with me?” One side of his mouth lifted in a smirk.
She swallowed, her fingers tensing slightly against his palm. “It would be more tolerable, I suppose.”
He snorted. “A high honor.”
“You said you can’t offer me love…” She paused as they moved apart before coming together again. “How about a friendship?”
“A friendship.” He frowned in thought as they matched each other’s movements, step for measured step. Before meeting Miss Prescott, he hadn’t considered friendship, or any other relationship really. In his eyes, he would be getting back at his father, and nothing else mattered. He’d forgotten that he would be involving a real human being in his petty schemes. “Perhaps.”
“Then I would agree to our arrangement.” They twirled once again, her skirts flaring elegantly around her ankles. This time, she didn’t trip. She seemed bolder now, more confident both in her movements and her words. “However, before we marry, I would like to get to know you better.”
“What do you have in mind? A courtship?” He guided her through another turn, their bodies moving in tandem now.
“As much as I’d prefer that,” she said as they stepped apart, then back together, “I am afraid my father will insist upon us leaving for Brighton as he can’t leave his factory for long. But I suppose we can exchange letters.”
They came to a stop as music drew to a close. “Letters it is,” Thorn said with a formal bow. She answered with a simple curtsy. “Anything else?” He extended his arm, and they began the walk back to where Mr. Prescott waited.
“Everything else you can discuss with my father during the signing of the marriage contract.” Her voice held steady despite her quickened breath. “I believe he will protect my interests.”
Thorn handed Miss Prescott to her father and sketched another bow.
“Well?” Mr. Prescott looked at his daughter expectantly, one graying eyebrow raised. She nodded, a blush climbing up her face and his thin lips spread into a satisfied smile.
“Come over tomorrow,” Thorn said, his voice emerging curiously hoarse. “We shall discuss the details.”
Mr. Prescott extended his hand with a merry laugh. Thorn shook it firmly, then bowed to the Prescott sisters before turning on his heel and striding away.
He needed a breath of fresh air. Or any air. His chest felt tight, as though he was suffocating. He tugged ineffectually at his cravat, his fingers clumsy, and moved toward the balcony.
