Grovemont tilted his head to the side and contemplated her. “I like that about you, Gemma. You’re forthright.”
Oh, that was it. Using her Christian name? Giving her a compliment? Too much. She rolled her eyes. “Flattering me is a waste of your breath.”
He shoved his hands into his coat pockets. “Fine. Then allow me to get directly to the point.”
She straightened both of her shoulders, preparing herself for the inevitable impact of his words. “Please do.”
“I am willing to grant you your divorce,” he said simply.
Her head snapped to the side to stare at him in wonder. What was that? Had she heard him incorrectly? She must have.
“I said I’m willing to grant the divorce,” he repeated as if reading her thoughts.
She narrowed her eyes to slits and plunked her hands onto her hips. “And?” She drew out the word slowly.
He scratched his jaw. “And what?”
“And what is the condition upon which you will grant it?” She blinked at him, glaring as if she still didn’t believe what he’d said. Because she didn’t.
He chuckled and bit his lip. “That obvious, am I?”
“Out with it,” she demanded.
Grovemont removed his hat and scrubbed his hand through his unfairly thick hair before replacing the hat. “Fine. I will grant you your divorce in two months’ time if…you spend that time with me pretending to be happily married.”
Of all the things she thought the man had been about to say,thathad certainly not been one of them. Now sheknewshe was hearing things. That or perhaps her ears weren’t working correctly. “Pardon?” was all she could muster.
“I’m asking you to spend the next eight weeks pretending to be happily married to me.”
Was it her imagination or did he look worried, vulnerable even? As if he was concerned she would refuse. She pressed her palm to her forehead. A hundred questions flew through her mind. Where to begin? “Pretending? Why would you want that?”
He folded his arms behind his back and nodded once. “I have my own reasons.”
“Your own reasons?” she echoed. What in heaven’s name did that mean?
“Yes. And I’d like to keep them private…for now.”
Her brows shot up. “I bet you would,” she mumbled.
“Pardon?”
“Nothing.” She gave him a beatific smile. “But I don’t think?—”
He didn’t let her finish. “If you agree to pretend that we’re happily married, I will not only grant the divorce at the end of the two months. I will also provide you with a hefty settlement of, say, fifty-thousand pounds?”
First, Gemma gasped. Then she struggled to breathe. Fifty-thousand pounds was twice as much as her extremely generous dowry. It was a fortune. And Grovemont knew that. Why would he offer her such a sum? And with nothing more than having topretendto like him for two months? It was unorthodox, strange perhaps. It might even make her stomach revolt, but it was certainly worthfifty-thousand pounds and an uncontested divorce. Still. She didn’t trust him. Not one whit.
She straightened her shoulders and glared at him. “What is the catch?”
“Catch?” He blinked at her innocently.
“Yes, what precisely will be involved with my ‘pretending’ to be happy?”
He leaned back against the tree trunk and drew up one knee to rest the flat of his boot against the bark. “I’ve been thinking about that.”
“And?” she prodded.
“You must agree to go places with me, dance, laugh, drink, have fun. In short, we will carry on as if we are a happily married couple.”
