The Wilder Wedding. Lyn Stone

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      She shook her head and brushed her feather aside with one gloved hand. “Of course not. He would never have allowed it.” Annoying how quickly she had recovered that composure of hers, he thought.

      “I shall be direct with you, sir,” she said, lowering her head and peering up at him through those long, dark lashes. “I need a husband immediately, one who knows the ways of the world and how to take me about in it. I mean to travel as far and as fast as I can, see everything possible, do everything possible.”

      “Indeed.” He cocked one brow, encouraging her to continue.

      “Yes. And that doing everything must include marriage. Therefore, I want someone appealing, someone with exper tise in that area. So I chose you.”

      “May I ask why? We are practically strangers.”

      She answered immediately, as though she had her answers catalogued. “As I said before, you are a man who knows his way about, Mr. Wilder. Also, I sensed your sincere concern for me when I was so distraught. That speaks well for your character, I believe, since you didn’t even know me at the time.” Her head ducked shyly again and he lost sight of those luminous gray eyes as she added, “And I do find you enormously attractive.”

      Sean crossed his legs to hide his sudden reaction to that bold statement. He swept away images of long, liquid satin hair drifting across his bare chest, of sweet young breasts pressing against him, of smooth, slender limbs entwined with his. His avid response, along with her presumption that he was for sale angered him. She must know of his childhood—a time when he had been bought and paid for—to suggest such a thing. “A stud for your stable, eh?” he asked with a harsh, forced laugh.

      She raised her head and arched one beautifully shaped brow. “Certainly not! I wish to hire you. To exchange six hundred thousand pounds for a few months—perhaps only weeks—of your time.”

      “Six hundred thou…?” Sean swallowed hard to prevent choking visibly. “I do believe you are mad.”

      “No,” she declared reasonably, “I am merely trying to arrange all that has been left to me, and help someone in the process.” The gray eyes increased their earnest regard. “I would like for that someone to be you.”

      Sean had a sudden desire to shock her out of her pantalets. “Just how much do you know about me, Miss Middlebrook? Let us set your facts straight, shall we?” he dared.

      She nodded amicably. “My solicitor has it that you were indigent as a lad.”

      “A real beggar from birth. Brought up in a whorehouse,” Sean affirmed. “That is no secret. All of London knows it.”

      Her lips pursed and the eyebrows raised a fraction as she continued, “He says that a wealthy benefactor rescued you and saw you properly educated.”

      “Ah, the royal benefactor story again,” Sean said, pulling a wry face. “Triggered by my uncanny resemblance to the old Prince Consort.”

      She inclined her head smiled doubtfully. “True?”

      “Would you like it to be?” he countered. The last woman he asked that certainly had.

      “No, of course not. Yet I can see how the idea might be helpful to you. Gain you entrance into certain circles for investigative purposes and all that.” Her small gloved hand executed a wave of dismissal. “Judging by his pictures, you look nothing like Prince Albert did, by the way. And he probably died before you were ever born!”

      “Just after,” Sean supplied. “I am twenty-eight.”

      “Well, much as she adored the prince, Her Majesty would hardly dote on you if it were true. Ridiculous notion. I cannot imagine how the gossip started unless you initiated it yourself for the very reason I mentioned.” She ran her pink tongue over her bottom lip. He followed the motion of it with salacious interest. “Well, did you?” she asked.

      Sean laughed sincerely this time, in spite of himself. The little minx was as charmingly direct as she was beautiful. All of a sudden, this interview was highly entertaining. “As a matter of fact, I did. You’ve caught me out,” he admitted. “Although the command for a private audience with the queen to ascertain the truth of the rumor certainly did nothing to quell it. Quite the opposite. And she quite liked me afterward, by the way. I confess, it was my saintly grandmother who finally rescued us for my mother’s sake, not Her Majesty for the prince’s.”

      Miss Middlebrook nodded, a smile tugging at her beautifully shaped lips.

      “Surely you shan’t stop here? Please, do go on!” Sean invited.

      “Very well. You have a manor in Cornwall,” she stated.

      “Compliments of my unsaintly grandfather,” he supplied, amused by her aplomb and surprised by his own willingness to abet her rather thorough background enquiry.

      “Once you finished at Oxford, you enlisted in the army, spent two years in Africa, then resigned and took a position with Scotland Yard.”

      He smirked, narrowed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. “And soon took my leave of that. Tedious livelihood.”

      “Since you have entered into your private enquiry business, you accept dangerous assignments for exorbitant fees. Therefore, I conclude that you have constant need of large sums. I can make those risks unnecessary, sir. All you have to do is marry me.”

      “So you want me to squire you about and take you to bed?” he added with blunt sarcasm. “In exchange for your money.”

      “Exactly.” Her nod was succinct.

      He held on to his fury with both hands. It was that or wring her presumptuous little neck. “As I divine it, you aren’t looking for a permanent attachment. So what, may I ask, do you intend to do after you have experienced these ‘months—perhaps only weeks’ of nomadic, marital bliss and unloaded your considerable fortune?”

      She lowered those gorgeous eyes again for a mere second and then refastened that determined gaze on his. “I am going to die.”

      Sean felt his lungs collapse and his stomach lurch. For a long moment he couldn’t speak. Then, as dispassionately as he could manage, he looked directly into her eyes. “There are far worse things than death, Miss Middlebrook.”

      She didn’t even blink at his insensitivity. “Yes, I expect so,” she said in a small voice, “however, I haven’t needed to face any of those as yet.”

      Intently Sean searched her face, took in the slight movements of her hands, her body, for signs of a lie. “Illness?”

      “Yes,” she affirmed, and hurried on, saying things that barely registered through his hidden shock, “but my malady will be nothing dangerous to you. It is noncommunicable and hardly even noticeable. Just a jot of dizziness here and there, leading to a quick and painless end, so I understand.” She smiled. She actually smiled. “I’ve already seen to the…final arrangements. So you needn’t have that bother.”

      Appalled by her words, Sean struggled to utter some denial, anything to refute them. But the certainty in the depth of her eyes, augmented by her courage, convinced him she spoke the truth as she knew it. He reached СКАЧАТЬ