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Michael busied himself with the tea, while, across the room, Gwen’s fingers drummed irritably on the arm of the chair.

“I understand you have no interest in marriage. You've been clear enough about that from the start.” A pity, really — winning her hand fairly, had it been an option, would have made everything considerably simpler. “Lets say, hypothetically, you had to marry,” he began.

“Oh good, another one of your strictly hypothetical scenarios,” she muttered caustically.

“But you could choose five qualities your future spouse would possess. Which would you choose?”

“What difference does it make? You can’t simply patch over the massive cracks in your character like you’d fix a leaky rowboat. Besides, you’ve already condemned yourself to the depths of my opinion anyway, so your efforts at buoyancy are bloody pointless.”

He set the tea before her on the desk, dragged his chair close, then sat down.

“I don’t believe that’s true. I’ve trapped you into something you don’t want, and I am well aware of the injustice of it. As such, I fully expect you to cling to your resentment for as long as you are able, but you’re a practical woman. Moreover, you’re optimistic and unfailingly charitable. You won’t want to hate me forever, and in the meanwhile, Gwen, I mean to do my best by you. I want to make you happy.”

“Then go away.”

His lips twitched. “I suppose I rather set myself up for that one.”

Leaning forward with his elbows planted on his knees, Michael tried and failed to catch her gaze. “This will hurt considerably less if you view it as a business proposition. You cooperate with me, so I will, in turn, cooperate with you. Answer my question, and you’ll find me more amenable to the terms that matter most to you.”

After a considerable amount of time, she heaved a sigh. “I would have a husband with an unimpeachable character, like my da. A man who sees me as a capable, free-thinking person. A man who respects my wishes as his equal. He would be intelligent and compassionate—not for his own gain, but because that’s simply who he is.”

Michael took a deep swallow of his tea. It burned all the way down. “I suppose one out of five isn’t the worst place to start. Two more ought to be manageable after the current situation is resolved—but I can hardly claim to respect your wishes just at this moment.”

Gwen leaned back in her chair, watching him, her expression solemn, and in that instant, he knew he’d won.

“If we marry,” she began. “You’ll have no say over the yard. No control over my day-to-day activities, and I retain full control over my own finances.”

He nodded once, briskly, then leaned back in his chair. “But when you complete those day to day activities, you return to me… to a home and bed we share.”

“I’m not leaving the boarding house. If you want to find my bed, that’s where it will be.”

“Fine. I’ll send for my solicitor to draw up the marriage contract—no, better yet, you should employ your own, read over the fine print to ensure it’s to your satisfaction, and I’ll see his bill paid. What else?”

“That’s all.”

She kept her eyes lowered, not precisely docile but with an expression near enough to defeat that the sight of it made him feel oddly lost.

“Surely there’s something. Some way I can make this more palatable for you.”

When she said nothing, he looped his foot around the leg of the chair and dragged it several inches closer, unaccountably frustrated at her silence and unwillingness to fight for her interests.

“Gwen.”

He wouldn’t apologize. He wasn’t sorry. But damn it all, this wasn’t what he wanted either.

“I’m still the same man I was yesterday.” It took physical effort to keep from shouting the words at the top of his lungs. Instead, they emerged thin and brittle, and the weakness in them made heat rise in his face. “The same man who listened to you. Who admired you and argued with you… who trusted your judgment. I know you can’t see it now, but I’m willing— eager, even, to do whatever it takes for you to see that man in me again. Is there not something I can offer you?”

She shook her head.

Michael shut his eyes, then sank back into his chair, exhausted in a way he could not equate with any of his previous victories. All the familiar emotions were absent. Where elation should have been was only hollowness. In the place of pride—a sickening disgust.

“Very well. I’ll have the first of the banns called this Sunday. I could, of course, obtain a special license, but I think a little time to adjust to the idea may do us both some good. It will also allow my brother and his family to travel for the ceremony if they’re able. You’ll like Gabriel—he could boast all five of the qualities you prize, were he not also endowed with a frankly disgusting amount of humility as well. What of your bridal trousseau… shall we travel to Swansea or London? You may have as many gowns as you wish, of course, with hats and other fripperies to match. I’ll open accounts for your personal use.”

“I’ll marry you dressed in whatever I happen to put on that morning, then return to the yard when it’s done. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Lord Michael, I have an auction to see to.”

She got to her feet and swept from the room. Gone before he could even formulate a response.

CHAPTER 10