“Nuance.” He had the gall to wave a dismissive hand. “So, I will allow the engagement to proceed. At the same time, I will teach you how to flirt, and deliver you into the waiting arms of a gentleman who would better suit you.”
There was a lot to digest in that sentence, but one word alone jumped out at her. “You will teach me toflirt?”
“It strikes me you are singularly poor at it.”
She wasn’t sure if she was more offended or amused. “Why would I be good at it?”
“Why, to attract gentlemen, of course.” He waggled his eyebrows at her. “And because it’s fun.”
Fun for him, perhaps. Fun for anyone who didn’t feel cripplingly anxious whenever they were in public. The only time she didn’t, for a reason she couldn’t articulate, was when she was with the Marquess. Probably because, as far as bad opinion went, he soaked it all up.
He, like her, was an outsider.
“You will have to learn how to be coquettish,” he went on. “I know you have no experience inthat.”
“That is because I have no interest in it.”
“Plenty other girls your age do.” There was a wry expression in his eyes, as though he knew something she didn’t—or had been on the receiving end of that coquettishness. Considering he was the rakish Devil of St James, she suspected he had. “It’s a useful skill to have in your arsenal, believe me.”
She blinked at him. Then, when his expression didn’t change, she blinked again. “How long do you suppose it will take for you to find me another husband?” she asked doubtfully. “My sister will want me to marry by the end of the month.”
He only paused for a second. “Then I suppose it is lucky my brother died not three months ago,” he said. “It would not be seemly to marry too soon after his death. Six months would be more appropriate. Three months from now.”
The Marquess did not appear to be overly concerned with what was seemly. He had barely taken any time to grieve his brother at all, wearing only the minimal amount of black and almost immediately kicking up such hell around London, it was a surprise he was ever invited anywhere.
Then again, he had plenty of older ladies who enjoyed his company. Annabelle wasn’t privy tothoseconversations, but it seemed as though he had become somewhat of a trophy to be won. A prize to be flouted on the arm of one lady or another, a claim that they had tamed the devil. Annabelle wondered what he felt about it. Then she reminded herself she didn’t care.
“Three months,” she said, tasting the words. Three months did not seem very long. “Very well. You have until the end of the summer to find me another husband. Then I will officially break our engagement. But only if I am assured the other gentleman will propose.”
The Marquess’s eyes glittered dangerously. “Or what, little bird? Do you think you will succeed in dragging me to the altar? I assure you, you are mistaken.”
Panic flared across her senses and she forced it back. Although she did not like the Marquess, she would need a husband if everything went wrong. There was no guarantee that he could find another gentleman prepared to offer for her in that time-frame, and she needed to know her reputation would be safe.
Or rather, for her family’s sake she needed to do this.
But she could not persuade the Marquess the ordinary way; he would not marry her from duty alone. Already she knew that. He had killed a man and left him lifeless on the road behind him.
She would have to appeal to the one thing that could control him now: his ego.
“Why,” she asked, tilting her head to look at him assessingly, “do you believe it’s impossible?”
He smirked. “I could render even you desirable, little bird, and your dowry is an added boon.”
“Then you will have no issue making a deal with me,” she said, heart racing. “If you believe there is no chance of you succeeding.”
His eyes gleamed before he could shut down the expression, and she knew she had chosen well. Perhaps the only thing that could inspire him to make a deal with her was a challenge. She had learnt how much he likedthatwhen she had informed him that she did not like kissing—or kissing him.
“You are very bold, little bird,” he murmured, leaning in closer. “Why should I agree?”
“I’ll do what is necessary. Learn to flirt, be coquettish, whatever it is you need from me.” Her words were too fast, a torrent tumbling from her but she could not have stopped them if she had desired. This was a deal sheneeded. Theo needed her to make it. “And you guarantee that if, by some miracle, you do not find me a husband I am willing to marry in three months . . .” She held her breath. “You must marry me yourself.”
Chapter Eleven
Jacob knew better than to agree to such a foolhardy arrangement. His plans for the future—disgracing the family name and ensuring it could not continue, which had been his purpose since Cecil had so thoughtlessly burdened him with the title—did not involve a wife.
But the way she had issued the challenge, as though she knew he would have no choice but to indulge her, intrigued him. And it was not as though it was an impossible task: she was pretty, when she remembered to smile, and most importantly, she was rich.
“If I were to agree,” he said, holding up one finger, “you would have to also swear that you will accept the offer of an eligible gentleman.”
