She nodded, although it was a slow, reluctant nod. “I should like to have my friends with me—that is, my partners. My aunt and her husband will be part of my life, of course. I will have clients and collaborate with craftsmen and artists. Beyond these . . . well, I have always been alone in a manner. I am quite comfortable without the convention of . . . pairing up.”
He blinked at her, struggling to comprehend.
“It’s very simple, really,” Willow said, taking her seat behind the desk. “I shall marry legally in the eyes of God and man. I shall move to London. Once there, I should have no use for a husband, not when I am gainfully employed and living with my aunt. This allows the man I married to be free—to sail the world, pursuing his own work, living his own life. On the rare occasion that he is in England, perhaps we might . . . take tea.” She paused, nervously biting her lip. “But the arrangement was never meant to be traditional or . . . constant.
“And so now you know,” she finished. “I’m certain you will not keep me in suspense as to what you will do with the offer. Do you have interest in marrying me for £60,000 and a life of freedom? Or not?”
CHAPTERFOUR
Needless to say, the very last thing Cassin expected to encounter in Surrey was a proposal of marriage.No, he thought,that is inaccurate. The very last thing he expected was a young woman posing as an investoranda proposal of marriage.
He smiled, a touchy, cautious smile, the smile he gave to high-strung horses he did not trust.
Her question hung in the air between them.
Do you have interest in marrying me for £60,000 and a life of freedom? Or not?
No, he thought, he had no interest in marrying for any amount of money.
And no, he would also not reveal the details of his venture. And yet . . .
His brain suddenly refused to form the word. He opened his mouth and then closed it. He tried and failed to conjure a convincingly lordly scowl. He thought of all the things he wanted in the world, essential things, urgent things, things that would sustain not just him but his family and tenants. Instead of those considerable things, he suddenly wanted something else. Something frivolous and useless and just for him. He wanted her to continue talking. He wanted to hear more of her rationalizing and debating. He wanted to remain seated five feet away from her. He wanted—
“Tea, my lady!” Lady Willow’s chattering maid’s voice rang from the corridor.
“But where shall I put it?” sang the maid, backing into the room with a tea trolley. She did not wait for an answer but maneuvered the overburdened trolley into the impossibly tight space between the desk and Cassin’s boots. Dogs filed in around her.
“By the window will do, Perry,” said Lady Willow.
“Very good, my lady,” she said enthusiastically, reversing direction with undo force and winding the tea trolley through the small room.
“Will you take tea, Lord Cassin?” Lady Willow asked.
“Ahhh,” Cassin said, eyeing the cart. He thought of his partners, cooling their heels at the coaching inn in the village, waiting eagerly to hear the potential of the advertisement’s “modest fortune.”
He thought of Stoker’s brig, bobbing idle on the Thames, generating no money while in port.
He thought of his mother and brother and sisters and their blind faith that he would provide for them. All the while, this trip to Surrey had been a complete waste.
“Yes, thank you,” he said.
The maid gasped. “Shall I pour, my lady?”
“That won’t be necessary, Perry.”
“But I—”
“You may return to your duties, Perry.”
The girl tried again but fell silent at her mistress’s quelling look. After a deep curtsy to Cassin, she trudged from the room.
Lady Willow smiled gently to the manservant at the door. “Can I trouble you to check on the progress of my mother, Mr. Fisk?”
“Very good, my lady,” he said.
And just like that, they were alone. Cassin watched the door close.
“Your mother?” he asked.
