A Momentary Marriage(11)
“Oh.” Laura’s face softened.
“I don’t want your pity.” His voice was sharp and cold. “I am telling you this so you understand I have no intention of robbing you of your virtue. I won’t demand my husbandly rights. And you will not have to be my wife long before you are my widow. At that time you will inherit nearly everything except the title and the estate attached to it, which must go to my brother Claude. In short, I am offering you a golden opportunity.”
“But why?” she asked softly. “Why would you wish to leave all that to me?”
“What I wish is to not leave all that to them.”
“Who?”
“My family.”
“You intend to disinherit your family?” She gaped at him. “You feel nothing for them?”
“Little that is good.”
“Well.” Laura sat back. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, given your reputation for caring for no one.”
“That’s not entirely true. I care for my dog. And I am entrusting him to you.”
He really meant it, Laura realized. He was dying. And however bizarre it was, however impersonal, he was offering to marry her. “This is absurd.”
“I had some difficulty believing it myself.”
Laura blushed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“No need to apologize. As I’ve said, I prefer straight speech.”
“It’s just—this is so odd, so—I cannot help but think you are making sport of me.”
James leaned forward, resting one arm on the table. His eyes were silver in their intensity, and the piercing gaze he directed at her caused an odd, uneasy feeling in her very center.
“I don’t play games, Miss Hinsdale. However low you may think me, I do not lie. Did I deceive you when I told you Graeme’s circumstances? Did I try to soften it in any way when I said you must give him up?”
“No, you certainly did not.” She felt on more solid ground here. “But neither do you do anything without good reason.”
“Perhaps I’m hoping to atone for my past sins,” he told her lightly. He turned to look out the window, his face momentarily bleak. “Or maybe I just don’t want to face the end alone.”
He stood up abruptly, his chair scraping across the stone. “Much as I relish sitting here exchanging barbs with you, Miss Hinsdale, as you might guess, I haven’t the time to spare. What is your answer?” He went on in a needling tone, “Will you throw yourself off the wall, like a perfect heroine of Scott’s, rather than marry this black-hearted villain?”
Laura glared. The moment one began to feel a bit of sympathy for the man, he immediately trampled all over it with his sarcastic goading. She would have liked to throw his offer back in his face, just to thwart him. But she was all too aware of the hard, lonely future that awaited her and, admittedly, too pragmatic to let annoyance rule her.
“No. I mean, yes. Oh, bother. What I’m trying to say is I am no romantic heroine. And however mad you may be, I accept your offer of marriage.”
chapter 5
“You do me great honor.” James made her an elegant bow, but there was no mistaking the irritating smugness that danced in his gray eyes. He straightened, all business again. “Fortunately, Canterbury is close, so I can obtain the special license this afternoon. I shall make arrangements for the ceremony tomorrow, if that meets your approval. I presume you would prefer it done in the church.”
“Yes, I suppose,” she replied, a trifle dazed by his swift disposition of her life.
“You may find the haste unseemly, but I see no reason to cool our heels here for two weeks, waiting for the banns to be read. Besides, best to tie it up now, lest you have to roll me down the aisle in a bath chair, drooling.”
“Sir James!”
“What?” He raised his brows. “You may as well get used to it.”
“Used to what?” she retorted. “Your drooling or your irritating manner?”
“Why, both, I suppose.” A grin flashed across his face.
It struck Laura suddenly how very handsome James de Vere was. She had known he was good-looking, but she had viewed him too much as an enemy to see him as a man. A blush tinted her cheeks at the thought.
Fortunately, James was not looking at her. He turned away, thrusting his left hand into his pocket, but not before Laura saw the twitching of his fingers. Pulling his body even straighter, he swung back to face her, his expression as impenetrable as ever.
“Hire someone to help you pack whatever you want to keep. I’d prefer to leave after the ceremony tomorrow morning.” James reached inside his jacket and pulled out a coin purse, tossing it onto the table. “There’s a bit of money to pay them and take care of any outstanding accounts. If you need more, I shall see to it when I return. No need to bother with Merton. I’ve talked to him.”