Duke of Thorns (Heiress Games 1) (11 page)

Thorington placed his candle on the table and pulled the rickety chair forward. “I do not plan to ruin you at the moment. I came with a business proposition.”

Callie knew enough of the world to guess what he meant. A business proposition from a man of his status could only mean one thing. “I won’t be your mistress, no matter how much you offer.”

His frown was visible even in the shifting darkness. “I wouldn’t dishonor you like that.”

“What else would you offer?” she asked. “I can’t think of any other business between us. And Ferguson made it clear you’re not to be trusted. So you must be here to ruin me.”

Thorington sighed. “I am disappointed to find you have the morality of the middle classes. But you’re not screaming yet, so there’s that. I may be able to make an aristocrat of you after all.”

She gaped at him. Why had she wanted to sit by him at dinner? The man was mad. No, he was worse than mad. He was entirely amoral. And she was even more so — she was too wrapped up in delicious anticipation of his next move to be offended.

“Of course, I cannot make an aristocrat of you if you’re incapable of speech,” he said, examining his cuticles.

She couldn’t let him know how much he intrigued her. “I find I dislike you too much to speak to you.”

He laughed. “Charming. You and Lord Anthony have something in common. Marriages have succeeded with less.”

The speed with which he changed topics kept her off guard. “Lord Anthony?” she repeated.

“My brother. Similar to all the rest you met today, but distinguished by his
au courant
rose-colored waistcoat. Don’t judge him for it. He’s quite proud of the thing, for reasons that remain unfathomable to me.”

“I remember him,” she said. “But what do you mean about marriage?”

“He is the proposition. I want you to marry him.”

She gaped at him for another moment. Then her eyes narrowed. “I wish the scratching at my door had really been a rat.”

“You can’t do better than Anthony. He is eminently eligible as a match.”

“And you aren’t?” she asked.

She regretted saying it as soon as the words were out of her mouth. But he didn’t seem to take any meaning from it. He leaned back in the chair, with a creak that could bring every Tudor ghost down on their heads. “I am not interested in marrying.”

She rubbed her fingers against her temples, trying to stave off the first throb of a headache. She forgot that she had been holding the covers up around her until Thorington cleared his throat. “No need to tempt me, Miss Briarley.”

“I’m sure you won’t do anything you don’t wish to do,” she said, leaving the covers bunched around her waist as she continued to massage her temples. “With your complete disregard for others, you’re likely incorruptible.”

“That is true,” he said. “Allow me to explain my position. I find you interesting, albeit untutored, and I wish to save you from the clamoring hordes. Better to arrange a marriage now than risk being caught up and ruined by someone else.”

“Is it really so likely? Ferguson put the odds of me being ruined at this party at one in three,” Callie said.

“Ferguson is a meddling fool,” Thorington said, with an oddly amiable voice for such a statement. “But he knows the marriage mart. I’d guess his odds are accurate.”

“You claim you don’t want to ruin me, and yet you’re in my room unescorted. Your logic is senseless.”

“You’re utterly alone up here. Anyone could ruin you if they knew where to find you. It only took me a guinea to buy the information from a footman, and I could have had it for less if I hadn’t had to buy his silence as well. Take it from one who knows — it’s better to arrange your own fate than to wait for someone to trap you.”

“And you think I should arrange to share my fate with your brother?”

Thorington leaned forward again. His tone had been negligent, but the intent in his posture was obvious.

“Marry Anthony,” he said softly, like a devil offering her a prize. “He has a good heart and a strong character. You won’t find a better man at Maidenstone.”

Thorington didn’t sound much like a devil then. He sounded like he truly loved his brother. And she wondered, for a moment, how her own life would have been different if any of her brothers had survived infancy — if she had grown up with them, rather than with fuzzy memories of which foreign cities she’d lost them in.

Perhaps one of them would have taken care of her. But if one of them had survived, he would be the new master of Maidenstone, and Callie wouldn’t be confronted with this mess.

As usual, she had to solve this for herself. No one was coming to her rescue.

She inhaled, but she didn’t scream. Instead, she leaned forward and met Thorington’s gaze.

“I’ll consider marrying your brother. But only if you agree to my conditions.”

*     *     *

“What do you mean by ‘conditions’?” Thorington asked.

He watched Callista draw herself together. The girl had a backbone. If she were anyone else, she would have crumbled under his regard as soon as he’d pulled a chair up next to her bed.

He’d grant that she amused him. That was all he could afford to grant. Any other emotion he might have examined — any memory of the swell of her breasts beneath thin linen, or thought of how that saucy mouth might feel wrapped around…

He had enough control to squash that thought before it finished.

“I want to retain full control of my father’s shipping company. And Anthony must offer for me himself.”

Both conditions surprised him. “I’ll indulge you for a moment,” he said, dropping into a drawl and feigning disinterest. “Why do you want to retain full control of a shipping company, of all things?”

She shrugged. “My father built it himself. I wouldn’t want to see it neglected. Give me that as my portion and Anthony can have the rest of my fortune.”

He thought her disinterest was just as false as his. No woman would demand a shipping company just because her father built it.

“You would rather stake your security on a shipping company than on a pile of money? Your managers could leave you with nothing.”

“I shall manage it myself,” she said. “I already do.”

“Intriguing,” he murmured, still sounding bored even though she’d shocked him. “I didn’t know the Americans had grown so lax in their business habits in the years since our countries parted ways.”

He’d said it to annoy her. Annoyed people usually became careless, and carelessness usually encouraged them to say too much. But Callista smiled sweetly. “If my father hadn’t died on another one of his larks, I might have had time to become the featherbrained female you men seem to prefer. Unfortunately, I had to provide for myself.”

Thorington rubbed his hand over his mouth to cover his sudden smile. It wouldn’t do to show amusement. She might think she was gaining an advantage. “And when you win Maidenstone Abbey — what provision will you make for that?”

She shrugged, sublimely indifferent to the prospect of inheriting one of the grandest estates in Britain. “Anthony can use it however he desires, so long as I retain the shipping company and my Baltimore house.”

“Will you run away to America at the first opportunity?”

“I don’t plan to. If the war progresses badly, I may not be able to return at all. But this is an arranged marriage. I’m sure Anthony wouldn’t mind my occasional absences.”

Thorington had a brief moment of misgiving. Anthony wouldn’t want a loveless match, even if Thorington thought it would be safer for him.

But it was Anthony’s safety, not his heart, that mattered. “You will have to discuss Baltimore with Anthony,” he hedged.

“I don’t care so much about living in Baltimore,” she said, giving up the point more quickly than Thorington had expected. “But Anthony must agree to support me in whatever I decide to do with my shipping endeavors.”

“That’s far more to ask than just letting you have your way,” Thorington pointed out.

“There have been occasions when I could have made a better deal if a man had seemed to be at the helm,” Callista said slowly. “But Anthony won’t have to trouble himself with it. I just need a
roi fainéant
on occasion to sign the papers.”

A king with no power. Callista was strong-willed; she could turn most men into
rois fainéants
, and they would happily yield just to win a smile from her.

The thought didn’t make Thorington happy — not for Anthony’s sake, and not for Callista’s. She deserved something better than an empty marriage and the power of her husband’s name.

But winning Maidenstone for Anthony was more important than what Callista deserved.

“Very well,” Thorington said. “You have my word.”

She exhaled. It was a sound that signified victory, more subtle than a trumpet on a battlefield but no less audible when he listened for it. “Then if Anthony offers for me, we have an agreement,” she said.

“Anthony is capable of making pretty speeches when he feels so inclined. I’m sure he’ll make you quite happy.”

He was lying through his teeth. Anthony still might not accept Callista. If that happened, they would need to leave Maidenstone and look for an heiress elsewhere. And finding an heiress in the dog days of August would be as difficult as making his fortune back by working in a lead mine. Unless he wanted to sell Anthony to an industrialist or a banker, someone looking to advance a cow-faced daughter in society, he needed Anthony to accept Callista as soon as possible.

But at least he’d gained Callista’s acceptance. That gave him time to work on Anthony, without worrying that she would marry someone else in the next few days.

Callista drew her knees up to her chest. “This isn’t about happiness. If it was, Anthony would have come here murmuring love words rather than sending you. But I thank you for pretending it figures into your calculations.”

A knife dug into his side. “I cannot promise you happiness, Miss Briarley. But I vow you’ll be safe. And I’ll do whatever it takes to help you win Maidenstone.”

She laughed. “I’m under no illusions that you’re doing this for me.”

The knife twisted. She was magnificent. Why would she accept a deal like this, when she deserved a love match? Her heart was too big, her smile too ready, her eyes too bright, for something as mercenary as what he proposed.

But she had agreed to it. And as soon as she had Anthony’s ring on her finger, she wouldn’t be Thorington’s problem.

“Sleep well, Miss Briarley,” he said. “And shove the chair under the doorknob if you cannot lock the door. We wouldn’t want some foul fortune-hunter sneaking up here in the dead of night.”

“No one could be as audacious as you,” she said.

She smiled as she said it. Thorington ignored the smile. He focused instead on how good she would be for Anthony, on how important her dowry was for their family. He could find a pretty smile in any brothel in London, as long as he wasn’t too particular on the number of teeth.

But he didn’t sleep well that night. And it wasn’t victory that made him restless.

CHAPTER EIGHT

It took fifteen minutes for Callie to find the breakfast room. If she inherited Maidenstone, her first task would be to commission a map of the entire house. It seemed likely that there were rooms no one had entered in living memory.

It wasn’t quite seven in the morning when she finally stumbled into a room that contained foodstuffs. She had thought she might have it to herself. Mrs. Jennings, with a sniff of disapproval, had made it clear that Callie’s early hours would be deemed unfashionable, even in the country. But she found Lord Anthony there, alone, with his head bowed.

She hovered at the door. He hadn’t seen her yet. She could still leave.

But there was something about the contemplative way he pushed his eggs around his plate that interested her. She squared her shoulders and stepped into the room. “Good morning, Lord Anthony,” she said. “It appears that we shall have another lovely day, doesn’t it?”

He looked up when he heard her voice, coming to his feet in a gesture of respect. But if his reaction was polite, his eyes seemed disapproving. “Good morning to you as well, Miss Briarley. I did not expect to see you here.”

“I cannot stand to stay in bed while the sun shines,” she said. “Do you also arise earlier than most?”

“The ladies usually take their breakfasts on trays in their rooms,” he said, ignoring her attempt at conversation.

She hoped his comment was an observation rather than a mandate. She couldn’t spend another minute in that tiny cell, especially when the memory of Thorington’s presence still filled it. “I find my room too dark to properly enjoy my breakfast,” she said. “May I join you?”

She had wondered how to interact with Anthony when she saw him next. It was one of the thoughts that had kept her awake long after Thorington had left her. But she hadn’t expected that he would disapprove of her.

That disapproval wasn’t a trick of the light, though. It rolled off of him like fog rushing over a headland. “I was just finishing. If you insist on staying, I cannot stop you.”

Was it her imagination, or was there a ‘yet’ implied after that statement?

She picked up a plate. The sideboard held chafing dishes full of tempting selections — perhaps even more tempting than dinner the night before, since the dishes were better equipped to keep the food at the proper temperature.

“When I inherit Maidenstone, I shall have to retain the cook Lucretia’s hired. Do you think he’s French, or is he merely masquerading as a Frenchman?” she asked as she sat down.

He’d stayed standing while she served herself — it wouldn’t be proper for him to sit until she did. But when she sat down with her plate, facing him with her back to the door, Anthony didn’t move. And he didn’t answer her question. He just stared at her as though he had been confronted with something that appalled him.

“Won’t you join me?” she asked, gesturing at his unfinished plate. “It would be nice to converse with you.”

Nice
. Nice to converse with her future husband.