The Gentleman Who Loved Me (Heart of Enquiry Book 6)(51)

He could think of a lot one could do with that astronomical sum. He also understood the tangled workings of her mind. “You feel guilty taking the money,” he guessed.

“I don’t want it,” she said, setting down the glass with a fierce clink, “not a single penny! But I can’t refuse it either—not without stirring up suspicion as to why. And I refuse to give up respectability now that it’s finally within my reach.”

“That is a dilemma.” His mouth twitched; he couldn’t help it.

Truly, the chit was her own worst enemy.

“You’re amused?”

“You must admit the irony of the situation. First, you wanted to establish the legitimacy of your marriage. Now you’re wanting to dissolve it. But only a part of it.” He lifted his shoulders. “As the adage goes, my dear, you cannot have your cake and eat it too.”

“Well, you’re no help.” She scowled at him. “I don’t know why I came to you.”

“Don’t you? We’ll get to that in a moment,” he murmured. “Now you want my advice on your quandary?”

Her nod was so grudging that he almost smiled.

“Take the money,” he said.

“I can’t possibly take Daltry’s money—”

“Why not? He left it to you, didn’t he?”

She nodded, again reluctantly. “Apparently, he met with his solicitor before we eloped and specified that, in the event of his passing, his personal property was to go to me… and any children we might have.”

“He left nothing to his family members?”

“They’re in line to inherit after me. They won’t see a cent until I remarry or die, whichever comes first. It’s the ultimate snub,” she said glumly. “On our wedding night, he called them hypocrites because they scorned the origins of his wealth at the same time asking for handouts. The notion of them begging for money from me—a trollopy bastard, as he put it—must have amused him to no end.”

“Your former husband was an ass,” Andrew stated. “But whatever his motivations, he wanted you to have the money. Ergo, you’ve done nothing wrong.”

“But I… I wasn’t a real wife to him.” Her fingers wove tightly in her lap.

“It’s not your fault that he couldn’t perform. Or that he cocked up his toes on your wedding night. The moment that marriage certificate was signed, the money was yours.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Life doesn’t always give us what we want, sweetheart.”

“How can you be so blasé about the whole thing?”

“There are worse things than being handed a king’s ransom. Your husband was using you to get at his relations: why should you feel responsible for that?” he said bluntly. “If you don’t want the money for yourself, then use it to do good for others.”

“Charitable work isn’t my strength.” Her expression turned dubious. “My sister Polly works with foundlings, but I never got the hang of it. Children are sticky, and I’m squeamish. I did try to volunteer my efforts at a madhouse once. I was scheduled to give a vocal performance—to cheer up the residents—and my singing was going over well, I thought… until a lunatic attacked me and held me at knifepoint.” She wrinkled her nose. “After that, I gave up on altruistic endeavors.”

He stared at her, torn between wrath over the danger she’d experienced… and the desire to laugh aloud at her harebrained account. Only Primrose could turn a charitable undertaking into a drama worthy of Drury Lane. He didn’t know why he found that quality of hers endearing—and vastly entertaining—but, dammit, he did.

“You don’t have to do charity work,” he said. “Just donate funds to the cause in question.”

“That is true—and a brilliant idea, actually. If I’m good at anything, it’s spending money.” Brightening, she touched his sleeve. “Thank you. I knew coming to you was the right thing to do.”

“You’re welcome. But you didn’t come here to get advice about Daltry’s money.”

A pulse fluttered above the black lace at her throat. “Of course I did.”

He captured her chin between finger and thumb. “Don’t lie to me or yourself.”

“Why else would I come?” She wetted her lips, her wide gaze fooling him not one bit.

“For this.” He drew her close and sealed his mouth over hers.





Chapter Twenty-One


Botheration. He saw through her ploy.

His advice was helpful, of course, but what she really wanted was him.

Luckily, he didn’t seem to mind.

The slow burn of his kiss set fire to her senses, and she slid her hands into his tawny hair, relishing the rough silk texture between her fingers. She kissed him back with all the passion she felt for him: this man who was worldly and wise and treated her with care. Who didn’t gloat or make her admit that he’d won… which made her want him even more.

She parted her lips, inviting him in, but his kiss remained gentle and coaxing, as if she needed to be courted. Didn’t he know how desperately she wanted him?

She broke away, pleading, “Please, Andrew. I want you so much.”