Axel exhaled and ran a hand through his hair. “I was born small. No one expected me to live. From what my governess told me, my twin sister, Cordelia, talked for both of us until I was nearly four.” A tick pulsed at his jaw. “I struggled in school. However, I did graduate, and I assure you I am not simple. And you have my word that no one will take care of your daughter better than I intend to.”
A most inconvenient heat pooled between Felicity’s legs when she recalled how he had “taken care” of her earlier that afternoon.
Silence again. The clock ticking might as well be an active participant in this conversation.
Felicity squeezed Axel’s hand. He was such a worthy person. He didn’t deserve any of this.
“She has no dowry,” her father finally grumbled. She’d suspected this but not been entirely sure. It wasn’t the sort of information her father would be willing to share with her.
“Perhaps you and I can discuss the specifics in private?” Felicity stiffened, and this time, it was Axel who squeezedherhand.
Her father leaned forward, clasping his hands between his knees. “Very well.” He pushed himself to stand. “In my study, Manningham.”
Axel tightened her hand in his one last time before releasing it to rise as well. She nearly burst out laughing, however, when he turned his head and winked at her.
The worst was over.
In the wake of their departure, Felicity met her mother’s eyes, which held a twinkle she hadn’t expected.
“He’ll get over it,” her mother said. “It’s not as though we waited before our nuptials.”
Which, Felicity thought in horror, was not something she had ever wanted to hear.
“Cheroot?”Lord Brightley opened a box and extracted two cigars without waiting for an answer. Mantis was no stranger to the habit—Chaswick was constantly introducing him to new blends.
“Thank you.” He accepted it, willing to wait while the earl gathered his thoughts.
He, himself, was grateful to allow a few moments to pass while the earlier tension subsided.
Felicity had declared that the two of them had fallen in love even before Westerley broke off their engagement. She’d kissed Axel’s hand and then defended him to her parents.
Even knowing the first part wasn’t true, hearing her say those words had shaken him.
She liked him. She needed him. And she appreciated what he could do for her sexually, but he doubted someone like her could ever love him.
Because despite everything she’d told her father in that room, Mantis did not deserve her. A man who failed to garner his own father's respect and affection could hardly expect either from Felicity, a diamond of the first water.
Not when she was forced to defend his blasted intelligence.
“You are willing to marry her, even without a dowry?” Brightley had finally settled in behind his desk, the red in his face from earlier a considerably softer shade of pink.
“Absolutely,” Mantis answered. “In fact,” he leaned forward, “I am willing to pay off your vowels to do so.”
The earl’s brows rose. “What do you know of my vowels?”
“Enough.”
“And you have the funds to do so?”
Mantis’ father might hate him, but access to the Mannington-Tissinton estate ensured funds were never a problem. By residing at Crest House, limiting his gambling, and spurning the practice of keeping a mistress, he lived relatively frugally. Even with the expense of his project on the docks, he barely put a dent in even the interest most months.
In addition to all of that, his investments had proven more successful than he’d deigned ever to imagine.
“Would twenty-thousand pounds cover them?”
Brightley swallowed hard, staring at him from across the desk. “And then some. You love her.”
“I do.” The words came out sounding gruff.
