Spending Christmas in Hell (Diamonds of London #8)

Chapter Four

Ashlynn stared at him as shock continued to pummel through her belly. Had she heard him correctly? Was this a product of her grief-stricken mind?

“What?” Perhaps she’d heard him incorrectly.

He nodded, and to his credit, he looked as shocked as she felt. “I think you should marry me. It will solve your problems.”

Was he that arrogant? She snorted as she planted her hands on her hips. “And give me a whole new set.” Yet he didn’t retract his offer. “I don’t know what game you’re playing at, Sir Timothy, but we know nothing of each other. Wouldn’t us wedding be more of a scandal than me servicing you carnally in exchange for the rent?” Oh, Lynnie, you are surely a disappointment to Papa’s memory. Sometimes, she detested that inner voice. Especially when it referred to her with the nickname her father used to have for her.

Of course, her papa also joked that she would marry an Englishman who would send her life topsy turvy yet protect her heart as if it were made of the finest gold, so perhaps everything was mushy and maudlin because memories had warped them slightly.

“The length of time in knowing each other doesn’t matter, and there is no scandal if we wed. It happens all the time all over England for various reason.”

That might be true, but it didn’t happen to her . “We don’t love each other. In fact, I’ve not even spent an hour in your company.” Could he not understand this was a horrible idea?

“Half of all ton marriages don’t have love involved. That is not a valid argument.”

“Yes, but those marriages bring something else to the union—coin, property, connections. I have none of that.”

“True.” He took a few steps back from her, and when she assumed he’d changed his mind, he removed his top hat and tucked it beneath his arm. “However, that is not a hinderance here, since you need to be rescued, and I have the means with which to do that.”

“Ha.” Unfortunately, she couldn’t decide if he was truly arrogant or merely stating a fact. What else could she say to convince him this was a fool’s gambit? “You are a baron. I’m not even a lady.”

“As I said before, it doesn’t matter. We are not marrying for power or position.”

“I haven’t agreed to your insane plan,” she said in a soft voice. If she were being honest with herself, why was she fighting this boon? It was a way out that would keep her from a fate worse than death. But she had to try, because she refused to be anyone’s charity or cause. “I’m Irish and you are of the English ton .”

His expression was much like a thundercloud, but it only made him more handsome. She hadn’t lied when she’d told him he had looks, for he was certainly easy on the eyes. “Do stop with the excuses, Miss Athercrombe. You could be a fur trapper’s daughter from the Canadian territories, a French prostitute, or an Indian princess from the American West, I don’t care. I never hold anyone’s ancestry against them.”

That was surprising, and somewhat reassuring. “But—”

A huff of annoyance or frustration came from him. “You are unique, Miss Abercrombie. And it makes you valuable. Never discount that.”

Part of her wanted to melt from his words, for no one had ever said anything like that to her. The two men who’d offered for her in the past had only done so out of pity or because her father had offered a large dowry at the time… before misfortune got the better of him. She forced a hard swallow into her suddenly dry throat. “I… um… You and I are strangers.”

His dark eyebrows pushed together briefly when he frowned. “Again, it doesn’t matter.” It sounded as if his teeth were gritted. Then he glanced around the immediate vicinity. “You can’t continue to live like this. It’s horrid.”

“I’ll admit, it’s a bit… Spartan.”

“It is worse than that!” He gestured with a hand, presumably to encompass the whole building. “You don’t even have enough to feed yourself because you keep giving away your coin. Your clothing is out of date, which prohibits you from meeting someone of value. And you are keeping your father’s shop like a shrine because you refuse to allow yourself to release your emotions.”

“As if you so are perfect, then? You have made peace with your past?” When he didn’t answer, she huffed. “What I’ve done is better than you, you miser, who apparently wishes to hoard your wealth, and for what?”

He shifted his weight. “The future.”

That made no sense. “For when you’re alone? You will sit amidst sacks of coin and stacks of paper notes, laughing like an unhinged lunatic when you toss some of it into the fire to keep yourself warm?”

Stop talking, Linnie!

“No.” Even though a fair amount of annoyance hung off the word, the corners of his sensual mouth curved upward into a budding grin that never fully materialized. “I won’t be alone. You are going to marry me.”

That was a bit presumptive on his part. She crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “No, I’m not, but I am asking you to leave.”

For long moments he studied her then bounced his gaze between the door and her. Those dark chocolate depths were so mysterious in the dim candlelight. And the sharp cut of his jaw had awoken a couple of butterflies in her belly, but she shoved that notice from her mind.

Finally, he nodded. “Perhaps I’ve done this wrong.”

“Whatever would give you that impression?” she couldn’t help but ask with heavy sarcasm as she widened her eyes.

“Ha.” Sir Timothy almost grinned, and it was good that he didn’t, for he was already far too handsome for her peace of mind. “Consider it a Christmastide miracle if you believe in such things.”

“If I did, I wouldn’t be here, now would I?” Since her father died, her belief in miracles, romance, magic, and love had expired with him. “This is just how life is.”

“I see.” Again, the corners of his mouth quirked. “Consider this, Miss Athercrombe. You need to be taken care of, and I need a wife, or will eventually need a wife.” He paused, either for effect or to ponder his next words, she couldn’t say. “At least in this way, my mother will stop pestering me to find a suitable young lady.”

“Ah, so it begins to make sense.” That she understood. “Is your mother in Town?”

“No. At the country manor in Buckinghamshire.”

How fancy that he had a manor house in the country while she couldn’t scrape together a few pence to buy a lump of sugar. “Do you travel there this year?”

“I hadn’t planned on it.” When he frowned, the beginnings of that lovely grin vanished. “This is why I’m offering marriage. My mother is busy, and this time of year is trying for a variety of reasons. However, I’ll wager we could do with some companionship, and we are not fond of the holiday season.”

Well, he wasn’t far from the mark. Damn his eyes! “Do you have a dog?”

“I do not.”

“A cat?”

“No.”

A sigh escaped her. “Well, that makes your offer somewhat less appealing, doesn’t it?”

“Don’t test me further, woman.” He eyed her askance. “And this isn’t a question for the ages.”

“Perhaps not, but the question will change my life exponentially.” For the space of a few heartbeats, she watched him. Yes, her first assessment was correct. He was easy on the eyes, and each time he spoke, she couldn’t help but watch his mouth. What would a kiss from him feel like? But there were questions that required answers. “Would this union be a marriage of convenience?”

He narrowed his gaze. “Considering that you and I only just met a half hour past, I would say yes.”

“That’s hardly romantic.”

A half grin flashed but then quickly faded. “I’m not certain I believe in a romance that is borne between strangers.”

“Interesting.” At least they had that in common. “That is the very definition of romance. And you must admit, this has all the earmarks of a fairytale.”

“Fairy tales are for children.”

“Or people who have given up hope and wish to live a happy life through a fictional character,” she said in a soft voice, for she was one of those people. “But those stories are enjoyable nonetheless.”

The baronet snorted. “I’m hardly a prince, Miss Athercrombe .”

“That is readily apparent, and I am not a pampered princess who has no backbone and no discernable skills. I’m an Irish lass with a temper and I don’t suffer fools gladly.” And a penchant for outspokenness that was beyond being curbed. “If you wish for me to clean your floors or spend my time bringing you tea or mending your clothes or singing your praises, I will gladly tell you what you can do with those suggestions.”

“Well, that is quite the description.” This time he did grin, and she gawked at him. Heavens, he was gorgeous. “I will admit I have never met a woman quite like you.”

“You are not the first man to say so.” Despite the perilous position she was in and the horrid future she would face if she didn’t accept his proposal, Ashlynn unbent slightly. She relaxed her arms and hid her hands in the folds of her skirting, but she kept hold of the handkerchief he’d given her. “When your people are constantly looked down upon, sometimes you become quite adept at defending yourself.”

“You won’t be alone any longer, and if any slights come your way, I will gladly put down the nodcocks who think to speak badly about you.” There was nothing but honesty in his expression as he arranged his greatcoat about himself. “So, Miss Athercrombe, I’ll ask again. Will you marry me? Let me pull you out of this hell where you apparently don’t even employ a maid to help you? At least let me legally take care of you, give you enough meals that you’ll eat until you’re finally full and a fire so that you will be warm.”

As if in agreement with that plan, her stomach let out a loud growl. “That isn’t enough to build a lifetime upon.” Yet it was quite tempting. Knowing she might not have to struggle any longer was a powerful motivator.

“Then we shall take it day by day.” He replaced his top hat on his head then yanked on his black kid gloves.

Even his hands were gorgeous. “And I won’t be beholden to you in any way?” Even though he was practically rescuing her in every conceivable way.

He shook his head. “I can’t imagine that you would be. We are mutually helping each other.”

“Ah.” What other choice did she have? If she didn’t marry him, he’d evict her, and she’d be out on the street. If she did marry him, at least her life would improve, and she could have the time to sell her father’s possessions, keep the ones she wanted, and perhaps keep the profits too, depending on what type of man he would prove in the marriage contracts.

More importantly, she wouldn’t be alone any longer, it would prevent her from making a living on her back. Best of all, she would have someone to talk with again, instead of feeling as if she were slowly going mad by herself.

Drat . “Do you promise that you won’t molest me?” Though being on her back beneath him wouldn’t be much of a hardship… eventually.

Would it? The thought of forging a relationship with him to the point that she might welcome him into her bed left her warm all over.

His nod was curt. “I give you my word. If you want the union to become something other than what we’ve agreed to here, you will need to make the initial steps toward that.” There was a light in his dark eyes she couldn’t quite identify. “I have never taken women against their will, and I don’t plan to start now.”

Well, that was something. Oddly enough, she believed him. There was something about how he held himself, the feeling of security she had when she met his gaze, the way her stomach did queer things when he grinned that set her at ease. “Good. Will I retain some sort of freedom within the marriage? Also, will you allow me some funding to continue working at my charity? I can’t just abandon those people simply because my circumstances suddenly improved. If anything, I should do more of that same work.”

“Of course, on both counts. I am not an ogre.” Surprise reflected on his face. “If you’d like, you can sit in on the meeting between me and my man-of-affairs when the contract is drawn up. Usually women aren’t privy to such, but since you don’t have a male member of your family to represent your interests, you may do it yourself.”

The fact that he would give her such latitude gave her the second surprise of the evening. “Thank you. I appreciate the trust.”

“Well, you know what you need more than I do, and I refuse to have you cry foul later or accuse me of being… what did you call me earlier?” One of his dark eyebrows cocked in question. “A miser?”

Heat slapped at her cheeks. “Yes,” she said in a soft voice.

If she were honest with herself, she would eventually want romance, an attentive husband, and perhaps the chance to be a mother. Even now, the indescribable longing for something she didn’t understand made itself known from deep in her soul. None of that would happen if their marriage remained a convenience.

But she needed to start somewhere, and he was the best candidate she’d found, even if it was on annoying terms and quite by accident.

A huff escaped him. “Does this mean you agree to a marriage of convenience with me?”

Instead of answering him straightaway, and because it would always haunt her, Ashlynn crossed the room, closed the distance between them, grabbed him by his lapels, and then lifted onto her toes. She searched his face with her gaze, peered up into his eyes, and nodded. “I accept your terms, and I will marry you. Because this union will help both of us.” So saying, she pressed her lips to his. The warmth of those two pieces of flesh was strangely comforting, and his hand that came up to rest slightly on the curve of her hip was oddly appealing. When she pulled away and regained her footing, she blinked up at him. “Oh!”

Had he felt that tiny little zap of something? It was difficult to tell for he shuttered his expression far too well.

“Was that your way of sealing the deal as it were?” He stared at her as if he suddenly couldn’t puzzle her out but needed to.

Another round of heat went through her cheeks. “I suppose.” Suddenly shy, she lowered her gaze to the knot of his cravat. Either he or his valet had a flare for exquisite design.

“Very well.” With a nod, he ducked into the back room, and when he came out, he had his leather folio in hand. “I shall call for you tomorrow afternoon around teatime.”

“Whyever for?”

The look he bestowed upon her suggested she was naught but a silly widgeon. “To spend an hour or so in your company. Perhaps we shall visit a tea house, then at least I know you’ll have had a meal.”

“Oh.” Everything was accelerating at a rapid pace, and she didn’t know how to react.

“And if you would like, we can go shopping in the event you might wish to find a gown for the ceremony.”

It was all too much. Tears welled in her eyes once more. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good.” He nodded. “Tomorrow before that, I will make the necessary arrangements and apply for a special license. If all goes well, we will wed the following day.”

Oh dear. “So quickly.” Ashlynn caught her breath and pressed a hand to her chest. “It probably will be best to have it over with as soon as possible.”

“Good.” Then he headed across the room to the door. Once there, he glanced over his shoulder at her. “Good night, Miss Athercrombe.”

She swallowed her pride and her fear for the moment. “Good night, Sir Timothy.”

The snick of the door closing behind him announced her choice with a finality that sat heavy on her shoulders. Had she just made a terrible choice by wanting to wed a man she didn’t know, and a counting house man at that?

Dabbing his handkerchief to the corners of her eyes, she sighed. What would her father have said? Feeling oddly at sea, she went to the window and peered down at the street below. The baronet had just climbed into a closed carriage and slammed the door shut. With a sigh, and feeling more weepy than she had before, she frowned as the vehicle pulled away. Her father would have said always find a way to make a difference but don’t give trust easily.

That would be difficult to do since it would take a great deal of trust to marry a man who was mostly a stranger. When the scent of cedarwood and citrus teased her nose from the handkerchief, Ashlynn stumbled blindly into the back room and then into the narrow wooden staircase. Hitching up her skirting, she made short work of the treads, and once in her small bedchamber, she threw herself onto her equally narrow bed where she gave into tears all over again.

Why must life constantly change? And why, when it did, was she caught up in its vortex? There were no immediate answers, and perhaps she didn’t want there to be, for she simply couldn’t think about anything else today.