What Dev saw was a question perched on the tip of her tongue—the one that would naturally follow.
And what is it that you actually want, Mr. Deverill?
He had no intention of answering that question—now or ever—so he pivoted. “Of course, you’ll immediately require a new wardrobe.”
Her eyebrows winged together. He’d caught her on the back foot. “I’m wearing my best day dress now.”
“It won’t do.” Though the change in subject had been strategic, Lady Beatrix’s wardrobe did, indeed, need to be addressed. “It’s wool, brown, buttoned up to your chin, and about ten years out of date.”
“I don’t care about that.”
“It’s not the sort of dress that tempts a man into creating a sensation.”
He got a snort by way of reply.
“I am Lord Devil.”
“And?”
“AndI would only court a stylish woman.”
“I’m not spending a penny of my money on new clothes. That’s not part of our agreement.”
“I can’t have the woman I’m courting looking like a pauper.”
“I’m the daughter of a marquess. No one thinks me a pauper.”
Even as he lifted it, Dev knew the raised eyebrow was a fair bit of cheek.
“And you’ll need a new servant or two.”
“I’m not replacing Cumberbatch.”
“Anadditionalservant or two,” he amended.
The woman shimmered with pique and exasperation and looked thoroughly unconvinced. “Why on earth would I spend my money on servants and dresses?”
“Why wouldn’t you?”
“I’m scraping along just fine.”
“Scraping along?”
Her gaze shifted toward her favorite patch of filth-crusted window. She didn’t dignify his question with a response.
Sudden insight struck him.Scraping alonghad been Lady Beatrix’s life for so long she didn’t know another mode of existence. Here was a woman adapted to making do with what she had.
And Dev saw something more.
He may have been the son of a humble estate manager and a housekeeper and she the daughter of a marquess, but his life had always had so much more than hers.
“To be clear,” he said, “you have no intention of purchasing new dresses for our engagement?”
“Ourpretendengagement,” she corrected him. “And the answer is of course not.”
Sometimes in a negotiation one must retreat and reassess. They’d reached that point—which didn’t mean Dev would concede the point, not at all.
“I almost forgot,” he said, reaching for the parcel at his side. He pushed it across the table. “A gift.”
