“That is not important,” he continued. “After you agree to this marriage and we marry, there will be more schedules in your future.”
“Why?” She frowned.
“I have to keep you occupied to stop you from running around and sticking your nose into things that are not your business,” he said. “After we wed, do not address me as ‘Your Grace’, or my lord, or any honorific. You are to call meDorian.”
Ellie flipped the paper over and wrote that down. “If we marry, we are to sleep in separate bedchambers.”
He shrugged again. “Fine. You will have your pick of rooms. Next?”
“We will share all meals together—”
“No,” he cut off. “Three per week at most.”
“Why not?” She asked. “What is more important?”
“Almost everything,” he murmured drily. “I have a business to run and other personal interests to cater to. And it will not be one set meal—depending on what time I am available, it will be breakfast, luncheon, or supper.”
She let out a huff. “Are we to attend balls?”
“Only those I deem sufficient to keep gossip away and only in the houses I feel most beneficial to my needs.”
Ellie stared at him. “Most… beneficial to your needs. And what needs would those be?”
“Three estates exactly—Nathan Wellington, Marquess of Salem, Drake Holt, Viscount Porstmouth, and of course, Carrington. I know he’ll be incensed seeing us married, but that is what I am counting on.”
She felt as if she were repeating herself incessantly. “Why?”
“He’ll be so blinded by trying to remind me of my place that he’ll make mistakes and lead me to exactly where I need,” Dorian replied.
Setting the paper aside, she went to get her pie and took a nibble. “The more you talk about Carrington, the less you reveal. Why do you two have this cordially hateful relationship? What has he done to you?”
“When I was in the streets, he took me under his wing and made me his protégé,” Dorian began. “But as I grew and wriggled out of his snake-like grip, he began to see me as competition. He abhors that I took everything he taught me and spun it into something more productive than he can ever be. He hates me and admires me in the same breath.”
Pausing to chew over his revelation, she said, “That sounds very… unhealthy.”
“Carrington is poisonous, but at the moment, his fangs are retracted,” Dorian replied. “But can we get off this tangent and get back to the issue at hand. What more do you demand from our marriage?
“I believe in fidelity.”
“Agreed. Next.”
Her fork slipped from her hand. “Wait—that’s it? Don’t you want to discuss the issue?”
“What is there to discuss?” He cocked a brow. “When I give my word, I keep it, and so it will be with my vows. Besides, I don’t have time for anyone else.”
She gave him a soft smile. “What else do you want?”
“My reputation is not the…best,” he offered. “As a matter of truth, I am very rough around the edges—”
“Or is it that you are a rake?”
“That, too. I believe being married will reform that situation,” he inclined his head. “Those of thele beau tonhave varied opinions of me, but from what I gather, they think I am not charismatic enough, I am not social enough, I do not host—I am an enigma, unknown, and therefore untrustworthy.”
Finishing her pie, Ellie nodded sagely. “You aretrès drôle.”
“I’d prefer to finish my meal without an after-dash of sarcasm,” Dorian chided gently, getting up and crossing into the kitchen. “And, I’d prefer some wine.”
As he left the room, she considered his position. What was he leading into?
