Groaning, she risked a glance at Griff and instantly regretted it. He leaned against the windowsill, arms crossed over his crookedly buttoned waistcoat and his tailcoat, which sorely needed ironing. Wild strands of inky hair hung down over his creased brow, and he wore no cravat.
But worst of all was the way he stared at her. If eyes could strip a person, his had already shredded her garments where she stood, as if to remind her that he knew her true self and wouldn’t allow her to present a false one to his employer.
Well, she had no intention of presenting a false one. She intended to be perfectly honest with her cousin…in what she chose to tell him, that is.
With Griff’s daunting presence renewing her res
olution, she returned her gaze to Mr. Knighton to find him regarding her with an expression of pure mischief. Though his apparent amusement briefly unsettled her, she refused to let it deter her.
“Go on, Lady Rosalind,” he remarked. “I believe you were saying something about wishing to marry me?”
“Yes.” She closed one clammy hand around the ends of her shawl. “Exactly.”
Griff’s audible oath sounded above the anxious beating of her heart.
Mr. Knighton appeared to ignore it. “You mentioned something about terms.”
She took firm hold of herself. “Yes. As I said, I think you’ll approve of the terms I’m prepared to offer if you marry me.”
“What terms would those be?” Griff snapped from his stance at the window. When she glared at him, he added coolly, “Mr. Knighton pays me to assess any contract he considers.”
She glanced to Mr. Knighton for help, but he merely shrugged. “He’s right. I’d never sign one Griff didn’t examine first.” The man’s cheeks quivered as if it cost him an effort to keep a straight face. “However, I do make the final decisions. So tell me your terms.”
“Very well.” She twisted the corners of her shawl together and tried not to think of Griff brooding in the corner like his namesake standing guard over the master’s treasure. “First of all, I know you have a business to run in London. If you marry me, I won’t expect you to bother with Swan Park. I’ll continue to run it for you if you wish.”
“Quite a noble sacrifice,” Griff said acidly, “since you detest running this place.”
“Shut up, man,” Mr. Knighton commanded. “Let
the woman speak her piece.” Then he flashed her a dazzling smile. “Go on.”
She swallowed. This was more difficult than she’d expected, rather like putting one’s goods on display at the fair. One’s worst goods, unfortunately. “Unlike other women you could marry, I wouldn’t expect a large sum for pin money nor make exorbitant demands on you for gowns and the like. Such things matter little to me anyway, and if I reside in the country, I should hardly need them.”
Mr. Knighton’s upper lip twitched. “What if I want you to live in town with me?”
“That would be your choice, of course.” She tilted up her chin. “But in such a case, I’d ask that you fit me out in a manner becoming my station and position.”
“That could become expensive,” he remarked dryly.
“You’d make the decisions in that matter. I’d accept your choices for such expenses without complaint.” A loud snort from Griff made her stiffen. “Indeed, I wouldn’t cost you nearly as much as most women. I wouldn’t even cost you as much as my sisters, for they’re both the sort to require costly gowns and jewels.” Well, that was an exaggeration, but close enough.
Mr. Knighton rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “That might appeal to most men, but I’m so flush in the pockets these days, I can meet the needs of even a spendthrift.”
Her eyes widened. If he didn’t care about money, then what? What else did a man want that he might not get from the average wife? Most men wanted beautiful wives, she knew, but she could do nothing about that. If she’d thought she could tempt him
with her person…but that would never work, even if she could lower herself to do so. Besides, men of his sort kept mistresses and—
Yes, of course.
That
was what men wanted—freedom to behave as they pleased, wife or no. “I’d be a most convenient wife in more than cost, sir. No matter where you choose to have me reside, you’d be free to live your life as you please. I won’t expect you to give up your…bachelor activities after we’re married.”
His eyes fairly twinkled at that. Men were so bloody predictable. “Bachelor activities? What exactly do you mean, m’lady?”
Surely he didn’t expect her to spell it out. “Um…you…you may spend all night…out in town, if that’s what you wish.”
“You mean, at a club or gambling? I don’t much cotton to gentlemen’s clubs, and a man doesn’t get as rich as me by risking his money on cards.”
The cursed wretch would indeed make her spell it out. “Yes, but…well, I also wouldn’t mind if…that is…” She blushed. “If you and some woman…” Dear God, how could she put this delicately?
“I believe, sir,” Griff interjected in a tone of pure ice, “that Lady Rosalind is giving you permission to fornicate whenever, wherever, and with whomever you wish.”
So much color flooded her cheeks she probably lit up the room like a chandelier. But Griff’s obvious contempt stiffened her resolve. What right had he to judge her? At least
she
wouldn’t do any “fornicating,” the way he’d probably done many times. And had tried to do with her this afternoon, blast him.
She met Mr. Knighton’s astonished expression determinedly. “Though your man of affairs puts it crudely, he’s correct. That’s precisely what I’m of
fering. If we marry, I won’t complain about your keeping a mistress or visiting…certain ladies.” Her tone grew cynical. “I believe I can safely say that few women—my sisters included—would be so accommodating.”
“How very true, Lady Rosalind.” Griff left his corner to approach the desk where Mr. Knighton quietly watched the two of them. “I would even venture to say that
no
woman would be so accommodating. Unless, of course, she has her own plans for ‘entertainment.’ A lover kept in abeyance, perhaps?”
She couldn’t mistake whom he meant, for he raked her with a heated gaze clearly intended to remind her of how easily she’d succumbed to his advances earlier.
“Griff!” Mr. Knighton growled. “You will not insult—”
“It’s all right, cousin,” she broke in, her pulse pounding. “I should like to address Mr. Brennan’s insinuation.”
Before the wretch ruins everything
.
She pinned Griff with a cold look, though her knees threatened to buckle. “I’m being so accommodating to your employer because I recognize our unequal circumstances. He has little to gain by marrying me, whereas I’ll gain a great deal. Since my accommodating nature is all I have to offer, I’d be stupid indeed to jeopardize my position with reckless liaisons, don’t you think?” When he merely continued to glower at her, she added, “I’m not stupid, however. Nor am I a harlot.”
Mr. Knighton’s sharp intake of breath made her wonder if she’d gone too far. But she couldn’t regret speaking frankly when Griff was being so utterly unreasonable.
Griff stepped closer, and said nastily, “Apparently, Lady Rosalind, I misunderstand your defini
tion of
harlot
. It
is
someone who sells herself for money, isn’t it?”
The words hung in the room, so nakedly cruel they knocked the wind from her. She’d thought he understood her reasons, but obviously he hadn’t. She couldn’t stop her tears. They welled up freely and spilled down her cheeks while Griff looked on, his expression rapidly changing from anger to horror.
Only Mr. Knighton’s hand under her elbow kept her from collapsing. Only his words saved her pride. “But we all understand the definition of
bastard
, don’t we?” He leveled an accusing glare on Griff. “To my mind, it fits you bloody well.”
Griff looked visibly shaken, as if he could hardly believe what he’d said himself. “Rosalind, I…By God, I didn’t mean…Please forgive me. Damnation, I don’t know what has come over me.”
“Don’t you?” Mr. Knighton snapped. “It seems fairly clear to me. Your concern for my assets and reputation has made you forget you’re s’posed to be a gentleman.” His fingers tightened on Rosalind’s elbow. “But you needn’t worry overmuch about it. You see, I think Lady Rosalind’s offer is sound, even appealing. I’m going to accept it.”
Rosalind’s shocked gaze flew to her cousin at the same time Griff groaned. Did Mr. Knighton truly mean it? She’d won her position?
The burly man now regarded her with the same kindly concern he’d always shown Juliet, and for an instant, guilt overwhelmed her. He was acting upon the assumption that she’d honor a promise she never intended to honor.
Then he astonished her by winking. Absurdly, that reassured her. He clearly had a trick up his sleeve, though she couldn’t imagine what. Or why
it would prompt him to accept her offer when his man of affairs had practically called her a harlot.
She darted a furtive glance at Griff, wondering if he’d seen that wink. Judging from his look of pure shock, she supposed he hadn’t. He opened his mouth, then shut it, then opened it again. But the only sound that came out was a strangled, “Why?”
“Lady Rosalind has made me an offer I can’t refuse,” Mr. Knighton explained. “An accommodating wife who’ll run my estate for me? What man wouldn’t want to have his cake and eat it, too?”
“But you can’t—You wouldn’t—” Griff began.
“Why not? Her father invited me here for that reason. I’ll admit I thought her younger sister was more interested, but as Lady Rosalind says, Lady Juliet would probably not be near so accommodating.”
“This is absurd, and you know it,” Griff said hollowly.
“I don’t find it absurd.” Mr. Knighton eyed Griff with a gleam of satisfaction. “Can you think of any reason I should
not
marry Lady Rosalind? Aside from your complaints about her accommodating nature?”
Mr. Knighton seemed to be throwing that word
accommodating
around very freely. And every time he spoke it, Griff stiffened a fraction more.
When Griff made no answer, Mr. Knighton persisted. “Don’t you have something else to say on the subject, or has the cat got your tongue all of a sudden? I swear you look as if a whole
delegation
of cats has got your tongue.”
At the word
delegation
, Griff’s eyes blazed. “I am merely thinking that Lady Rosalind has no idea what she’s getting herself into.”
“Then P’raps you should tell her,” Mr. Knighton said evenly.
Perhaps
one
of them should
, Rosalind thought. The interchange between the two men bewildered her. They spoke words she understood, but hinted at other meanings. Griff might be right—she truly had no idea what she was getting into.
Or what she
would
be getting into if she actually intended to go through with it. She pressed the back of her hand to her hot temple. This had become far too confusing.
“Well, Griff?” Mr. Knighton prodded. “Have you got anything to tell Lady Rosalind to dissuade her from marrying me?”
She glanced at Griff, but he refused to look at her. Instead, his gaze was fixed on his employer, full of an impotent rage so fierce it made her catch her breath. At last he said, “No. Nothing. If she wants to marry you and you want to marry her, then go ahead. I intend to continue as if nothing has happened.”
What a strange statement. But what struck her most was the contempt with which he spoke it. Was it contempt for her? Or his employer?
Her new “fiancé” faced her with a smile. “Then it’s agreed. I’ll go to your father after dinner and offer for your hand. Tomorrow he and I will discuss the settlement.”
A sudden inspiration seized her. “After that, I know you’ll want to return to London to attend to your business, you and Mr. Brennan. I’m sure we’ve kept you from your work far too long already. I’ll stay here and prepare for the wedding, of course.”
Mr. Knighton stared at her. The oddest flicker in his gray eyes made her wonder if she’d been too obvious, and he’d guessed what she was about. Behind him, she heard Griff mutter something unintelligible beneath his breath.
Then her “fiancé” smiled. “Don’t be ridiculous,
m’lady. My business affairs can wait. I want to take part in all the plans for the wedding. I wouldn’t dream of leaving you here to do it alone, and so soon after our engagement.”
Blast him. Well, it had been worth a try, and she didn’t plan to give up. One way or the other, she intended to delay the wedding long enough to make arrangements for her and Juliet and Helena.
“So don’t concern yourself about Knighton Trading,” Mr. Knighton went on genially. “Griff and I planned from the beginning to be here at least a week, and it’s already half-gone.” He shot Griff a glance. “Isn’t that right?”
Griff looked as if he were strangling on his own blood, but he managed to choke out a curt, “Yes, sir.”
Mr. Knighton turned back to her with an even broader smile. “Now, why don’t you go on and start those wedding plans? And don’t worry over the expense neither. I don’t mind paying for it if need be.” His eyes twinkled merrily. “I have plenty of money, y’know. Just ask Griff.”
She didn’t dare look at Griff, much less ask him such a question. But she was rabidly eager to escape his condemning stares. “Very well,” she told Mr. Knighton. “I’ll see you at dinner.”
“Certainly, m’lady.” To her surprise, he placed a proprietary hand in the small of her back and led her to the door. “Until then.”
Only after she’d left the study and made her way to her bedchamber did she allow herself to crumple. She hoped she could indeed delay this wedding indefinitely…or at least until she figured out a way to escape this nightmare. Because if she couldn’t, she might find herself in quite a pickle.
Jealousy, the old Worm that bites
.
Aphra Behn, English playwright
, The Lucky Chance
“T
hat was the finest display of jealousy I’ve ever seen,” Daniel remarked as soon as he’d closed the door and was sure Lady Rosalind was out of earshot. “Damned inspiring, as a matter of fact.”