Willow spoke over her. “Deceased.”
“What of a brother?” asked the earl. “An uncle? Some man must oversee your living and approve of investments of tens of thousands of pounds to . . . to . . . ”—he looked again at the advertisement in his hand—“gentleman sailors.”
It was an accusation, but his voice was more defeated than hard. He was confused, likely not a familiar state. Willow was on uncertain footing herself. It had never been her intention to dole out the terms of their arrangement in vague, one-word answers.
She cleared her throat. “If the arrangement sounds unorthodox, it is. However, you might have lessened your surprise by following the directive on the advertisement. Apply by letter first?” She gestured to the parchment in his hand. “It was never my intention to waste anyone’s time.”
“A little late for that.”
“But it would not have been, if you would have written from the start. The advertisement is very clear.”
“The advertisement is as vague as Parliament’s Speech from the Throne.” He tossed it on the desk. “And now I see why.”
“No, you do not see,” she said. “But this is by design. It was my intention to evaluate the potential of any candidate before he traveled to Surrey. Much can be discerned from a simple letter or two. You needed only to explain yourself, and I could have done the same, assuming our interests remotely aligned.”
“Forgive me if I cannot rely on thediscernmentof a young woman I’ve never met, when thousands of pounds and an ocean are at stake.” The earl’s voice rose. “And here’s a thought—neither should you. Facts. Figures.Whoandwhy. These are the bare minimum required to engage in serious business with serious men embarking on a serious endeavor. I’ve called in person because I haven’t the time to trade correspondence back and forth like a girl in school.”
“Indeed,” said Willow. “Very well. If facts and figures are what you want, I have them and am happy to discuss them. I should be happy to reveal everything when you are equally forthcoming. My God, can I not impose on you to sit?” She was breathing hard, feeling the exertion of a defensive position. She had expected some shock and perhaps confusion to her offer, but she had not expected to have to defend it, point by point. Not to a carefully selected applicant who had been screened by letter first. Irritation crackled.Hewas being considered here, not she.
“I cannot imagine what you have to say,” he said, refusing to sit.
“You’ve made this very clear, and look where it has gotten us.”
The maid hissed again, and Willow snapped, “Perry, please.” To the earl, she said, “Fine. I will sit. You may stand if you prefer it, and I shall strain my neck looking up at you.”
Primly, she lowered herself into the chair. “I speak only for myself; please be aware. However, the scenario I describe may be repeated twice over by my partners if, individually, we deem any other applicant to be . . . er, appropriate.”
The earl said nothing, although he did, at long last, drop into the leather wingback behind him.
“Before my father, Earl Lytton, died, he settled on me a dowry of £60,000.” She paused. It was an extraordinary sum. She would not have embarked upon the scheme with anything less. Her parents may not have been particularly affectionate or even present in her childhood, but they had not been miserly.
She continued, “I am prepared to award that sum in its entirety to a man who will use the money for an international venture, just as the advertisement said, and leave England to do it.”
“Just to be clear,” said the earl, “do you mean the money is your dowry? Because I cannot see how dowry money is yours to invest.”
Willow hesitated. Her entire future hinged on his reaction to her answer. “I cannot reveal any more about how the money will be . . . mine to invest,” she said, “until I learn more about you, my lord. And your venture.”
“Well, then we are at an impasse because my venture is . . . rare and untried, and my partners and I are protective of it. In my view, the burden of answering any questions is on the unmarried girl who claims to have £60,000 at her disposal.”
Willow looked down at her hands. She breathed in and out. If she revealed nothing more, he would leave and take his very slim potential with him. If she said more, her reputation was at risk. Her reputation already was acutely at risk. Even if she made it to London, she could not be hired, not by respectable clients, unless her reputation was untarnished. This was her reason for endeavoring to marry in the first place. A married woman could do as she pleased.
Before she could respond, he said, “What, specifically, do you wish to know, Miss Hunnicut?”
She looked up. He had not saidno. A tendril of hope began to climb up the trellis of her heart.
Of course there were dozens of things she wished to know.
Who are you?
From where have you come?
Are you a criminal?
Are you a madman?
Are you a liar or a cheat or a degenerate?
How will you spend my £60,000?
