Lord Braybrook's Penniless Bride

‘Why not?’ he asked.

‘Only consider the consequences!’ she said. ‘If I were living in your house, Harry would use that to—’

‘Precisely,’ he said softly. ‘You would be an unexceptionable reason for your brother to call. Most illuminating for Alicia.’

Her eyes flew to his. ‘You mean—’

‘Meeting you, knowing you must earn your living—’

‘Would give your sister food for thought,’ she finished.

‘Yes.’ She had caught the point in a flash. He added feelingly, ‘It would also relieve me of the stigma of being thought a mercenary, callous brute by my sister, because offering you the position would signify my approval of you and, by extension, your brother.’ But it would force Alicia to view Daventry in a different light—a young man who could not provide for his sister.

Another silence. She was thinking about it. He had seen enough of her to know that otherwise she would have rejected the suggestion out of hand. Miss Daventry had a mind of her own and reserved the right to use it.

‘I doubt that I would be a suitable companion for Lady Braybrook,’ she said.

If the lady in question were anyone but Serena, he would have agreed wholeheartedly. As it was…

‘You would amuse her,’ he said. ‘Meekness bores her, and I think we can leave that out of your list of virtues.’ An understatement if ever there was one.

Amused at her blush, he went on. ‘An accident some years ago left her unable to walk. I want someone intelligent to keep her company. I was considering older females, but I think she would like you. You mentioned teaching—do you have any teaching experience?’

‘Yes.’

‘I have another sister still in the school room and a six-year-old brother. At present they have no governess, so you could help there.’

Miss Daventry looked sceptical. ‘That will hardly answer once the summer is over and they require more lessons. I cannot be in two places at once.’

He shrugged, dismissing the objection. ‘Once another governess is hired, you can be available on her days off, or if she is indisposed,’ he said. ‘Naturally, were you prepared to take on this dual—or should I say triple?—role, I would pay you accordingly. Shall we say, one hundred pounds per annum?’

While he did not precisely expect Miss Daventry to leap at his generous offer like a cock at a blackberry, she would no doubt be somewhat flustered. Most governesses or companions were lucky to receive a quarter of that.

The soft, rosy lips parted slightly and he felt a jolt of what he sincerely hoped was mere gratification….

‘You cannot possibly pay such a ridiculous sum to a companion who relieves the governess,’ she informed him.

The devil he couldn’t! He bit that back, opting for icy civility. ‘I beg your pardon, ma’am?’

‘It is ridiculous,’ she repeated, her mouth re-primmed.

It was, was it? Just how much more did the harpy want?

‘Moreover,’ she went on, ‘it would be grossly unfair to the other governess, who might well be older and far more experienced, were I to be paid such an astronomical sum!’

His jaw dropped. ‘You’re complaining that I’m offering too much?’

She frowned. ‘What did you think I meant?’

He shook his head in disbelief. ‘Miss Daventry, permit me to inform you that most people would not concern themselves in the least if I offered too much. My offer stands.’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘Fifty,’ she said.

His mouth twitched. Good God! He was actually arguing— haggling like a merchant outside the Corn Exchange—with a potential governess, trying to persuade her to accept a higher figure!

‘Miss Daventry, your scruples are admirable, but your value to me lies far beyond the companionship you will offer my stepmother, or whatever knowledge you may impart to my younger siblings.’

‘But I might fail,’ she pointed out.

‘One hundred per annum,’ he insisted, battling the urge to laugh at this dowdy, honest woman with her disturbingly pink, prim mouth and earnest mismatched eyes. ‘If it helps, no one besides ourselves will know how much you are paid. Certainly not the other governess.’

‘No. It doesn’t,’ she said at once. ‘It is still unfair, whether the other governess knows, or not. I would know.’

He gritted his teeth. Damn the wench. Could she not strangle her scruples and accept his generosity? ‘Miss Daventry, upon occasion I play cards. I bet. Shall we say twenty-five pounds per annum as a companion? A further twenty-five as a governess. I’ll gamble the other fifty against you being able to dissuade my sister from marrying your brother.’

Her eyes narrowed again behind those frumpish spectacles. ‘Very well, on one condition…’

He might have known it. ‘Which is?’

‘If I am still in Lady Braybrook’s employ when your sister marries, the extra fifty pounds ceases. And should she marry my brother, I repay you—’

‘Not bloody likely!’ he said. And couldn’t believe he’d said it. What was he about? He never swore before females, but something about this one tipped him on to his beam ends. As for Miss Daventry—the ladylike façade was in ruins, her mouth parted in shock.

‘I beg your pardon?’

Sheet ice encased her voice. As for her eyes…that was it—the eyes were tipping him off balance. And she was angry, furiously angry. Beneath that calm exterior was someone quite different.

‘Er, certainly not,’ he corrected himself. ‘Otherwise, Miss Daventry, it would not be gambling. Would it?’

Under his fascinated gaze the fiery creature was visibly subdued and closed away. Prim Miss Daventry stood in her place. ‘I disapprove of gambling,’ she informed him. ‘You can hardly expect—’

‘Damn it all!’ he exploded. ‘What I expect seems to be going by the board! I expect you to accept my generous offer. I expect you to be ready to accompany me when I return to Hereford-shire in three days. I expect—’

‘Three days?’ Fire licked through the cracked façade. ‘I cannot possibly pack up this house in three days! Nor—’

‘My man of business will handle it,’ said Julian, pouncing on her implicit acceptance of his offer.

‘Nor could I possibly accompany you to Hereford!’

‘Why the d—why not?’ he corrected himself. ‘How will you take up your position if you do not?’

‘Oh, don’t be so literal!’ she said. ‘I meant I cannot travel alone with you. We should have to spend a night on the road.’

It was his turn to feel outraged. ‘Dammit, girl! Believe me, I’ve no designs on your virtue!’

‘It wouldn’t matter a scrap if you did or not,’ she said frankly. ‘My reputation would be ruined either way! I am twenty-four, Lord Braybrook. I cannot travel with you alone.’

‘You expect me to engage a chaperon for you?’