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“Here you are, Miss.”
“Thank you”—my eyes lower to her name, which is embroidered onto her black tunic—“Flossy.”
I wonder if Flossy is short for Florence. I’m about to ask her when the sound of a door opening catches my attention. Malachi steps out of the room, and, with his back toward us, flings his jacket over his shoulder. He strolls down the landing, humming to himself.
“Malachi,” I call after him.
Malachi turns and raises his hand in acknowledgement.
Remembering Lucian’s words, I ask, “Where were you?” I cup my palm over my mouth as the last syllable leaves my lips.
Malachi stops walking and offers me his full attention. “Excuse me?”
I suck in a breath. “What I meant to say is that Lucian wants you to join him and Farrah in the gardens.”
Malachi nods once before tucking his phone into his trouser pocket. Although his smile is wide, there is something in the way he looks at me that makes me feel uneasy.
He glances at Flossy. “Please inform Lucian that I will join him and Farrah shortly.”
I side-eye the maid, who half-curtsies and, passing us, makes her way across the landing. When she is out of earshot, he returns his attention to me.
“Forgive me, Chelsea, for I am going to be blunt.” Malachi closes the distance between us. He doesn’t stop until he is standing directly in front of me and I have to crane my neck to meet his gaze. He’s tall, taller than Lucian. That, with the added weight of my lie, makes me feel incredibly small. “I do not approve of this union between you and Lucian. Surprisingly, it isn’t due to your inferiority in rank or your lack of financial means. It’s that I don’t know what your agenda is with my brother. If your intentions are not genuine and it’s money you seek, tell me the amount and I will write you out a cheque here and now so you can be on your way.”
Malachi has called my bluff, and although outwardly I’m relaxed, inwardly I’m losing it. I have no idea what to say, so feign offence and say the first thing that pops into my head. “Do you really think so very little of me?”
“Based on the little time I have spent with you, I am yet to form an opinion. I’m just a man concerned for his younger brother; you must be able to understand that.”
I nod, thinking of how protective Amber and my older brother, Phillip, are of me.
“It was my understanding that you despised Lucian. I’m just curious as to what caused the sudden change of heart. If it is money you seek, we can sort this out here and now.”
My heartbeat accelerates in my chest. It would be so easy to take the money from Malachi and go about my normal way of life, the only difference being that I will be one hundred thousand pounds better off and able to reopen my salon without having to carry on with this sham of an engagement. I open my mouth, about to accept, but feel a strange kind of loyalty to Lucian. I hold my hand up. “Thanks for the offer, but—”
“Say no more.” Malachi pulls his jacket from over his shoulder and searches the inside breast pocket. He pulls out a business card and presses it into my palm.
The card is cooler and harder than I anticipated, and without a word I curl my fingers around it. I’m expecting the corners to bend in my grasp and when they don’t I glance down.
My eyes widen. “You have a gold business card?”
“Twenty-four-K gold-plated.”
“What’s wrong with good old-fashioned paper?”
Malachi doesn’t answer and I run the pad of my index finger along the solid edges before tracing the outline of the calligraphy-style engraved lettering.
The card darkens, and I sense Malachi looming over me. “You’re considering my offer, aren’t you?”
“No.” I keep my tone neutral. What I am doing in actual fact is deciding how best to dispose of this expensive piece of rubbish, seeing as I’m unable to tear the thin gold-plated card into tiny pieces or scrunch it into a ball before tossing it into the bin.
“I don’t believe you.” With his hands clasped firmly behind his back Malachi begins to pace back and forth. “I’m feeling in a generous mood today. Tell me your price, and I’ll double it, triple it even. Have we got a deal?”
My gaze snaps up to meet his. I’m about to tell him what he can do with his money and his twenty-four-K gold business card when the door to the master suite bursts open. A man with shoulder-length blond hair and dressed in a flamboyant teal suit appears. “I thought I could hear talking.”
“You must be Marvin,” I say.
“Yes. And you must be the girl in urgent need of a dress. Come in. We haven’t got all day. I have a range of gowns for you to try on.”
I spin on my heel, about to enter the bedroom, when Malachi places his hand on my shoulder.
