“Not for the return, Your Grace.”
She took a few steps forward, toward her father’s desk. Did she imagine that the older man tensed the closer she came? She could not relent. None of her letters had been answered. Nor had her father deigned to answer any of the handwritten messages she’d sentwith a footman. All she had left was this, a personal appeal. If he wanted her to beg, she would. Her mother was dying; what was a little humiliation?
Her father held up his hand as if to forestall her advance. She halted, ever conscious of her father’s temper. She’d learned several lessons when dealing with her father, lessons that she’d never forgotten. Don’t incite his anger. Never insist or demand. Never tell him he’s wrong.
Today, she was flouting all those lessons.
She remained where she was, determined that he would not discover that she clasped her hands in front of her to still their trembling. Or that her lips were clamped firmly shut for the same reason.
Her fear always seemed to please him in some horrid way.
He turned to the man who still stood in front of the desk. Not a supplicant, merely someone who looked, strangely enough, like her father’s equal. The Duke of Herridge was a formidable figure, yet the man who faced him was as tall and as commanding in his own way.
If she hadn’t been so worried about her mother, Sarah would have been more curious about him.
“How desperate are you for funds, Eston?” her father asked.
“Not desperate at all, Your Grace. If you decide not to invest, there are other men who have made overtures. You’re the first I’ve met.”
“I have not said that I refuse to invest in your invention. Instead, I propose that our venture be a more permanent one.”
“And what permanent venture would you propose?” the stranger asked.
Her father glanced over at her. “I have a daughter who insists on remaining unmarried. Two very expensive seasons have proven what I’ve always known. No one else can abide her. I will enter into a bargain with you, Eston, but instead of money, I’ll give you my daughter.” His eyes narrowed. “You aren’t married, are you?”
“No, Your Grace,” the stranger said.
“Then take her as your bride.”
Sarah was gripping her hands together so tightly she could feel each separate bone. She was bruising herself, no doubt. Was this to be her punishment, then? For daring to challenge the Duke of Herridge’s cruelty she was to be sold to a stranger?
“I believe a special license takes a few days, but no more than that,” her father said. “If you need somewhere to work, use Chavensworth. In fact, I would prefer it, in order to have some idea of your progress.” He sat back in his chair and regarded the stranger with some equanimity.
“You cannot be serious,” Sarah said, carefully not looking in the stranger’s direction.
She’d never been in any doubt as to her father’s feelings for her. He’d made his disdain for her perfectly clear. It was one thing to know that he didn’t like her, quite another to share this moment with someone to whom she’d not even been introduced.
The Duke of Herridge folded his arms across his chest and looked impassively at the stranger. “Well, Eston? What’s your answer?”
Eston glanced over at her again, and this time she forced herself to meet his gaze. He was absurdly handsome. His hair was black, his features perfect, andhis mouth reminded her of the statues in the Greek Garden at home. His nose was a bit too long perhaps, and his chin too bluntly squared. But it was his eyes that drew her attention more than the arrangement of his features. His eyes were greenish blue, the color of a dawn sky.
What was a man doing with such eyes?
She wanted to tell him not to regard her with such assiduousness. His intensity made her even more uncomfortable than her father’s words.
Was he actually giving credence to her father’s improbable suggestion? It wasn’t the first time her father had said something shocking in public regarding her. He seemed to choose a crowded ballroom, a highly attended dinner party, a foyer filled with partygoers waiting for their carriages to arrive in which to criticize her, illuminate her shortcomings. She’d grown accustomed to his remarks and quite prepared for them.
Nothing could have prepared her for today, however.
“Very well,” Eston said. “I’ll take your daughter, Your Grace.”
“I would say that you’ve made a good bargain for yourself, but I’ve no wish to lie to you, Eston. She’ll be a chain of rocks around your neck. Still and all, being my son-in-law cannot help but do you some good in the world.”
He was serious. He was actually serious. And so was Eston, if the considering glance he gave her was to be believed.
“The arrangement will suit me as well,” the Duke of Herridge said. “If your discovery is a good as you claim, you’ll make me a rich man. Not to mention ridding me of a nuisance.”
“Have you lost your mind, Father?” Sarah said. “You cannot be serious.”
