The Redemption of Julian Price(20)

“But it’s most urgent that I speak to you,” she continued, ignoring his reprimand, “before it’s too late.”

“Too late for what?” Julian strode to the bottle of port sitting on the side table.

“Too late to make a difference.”

“I still don’t know what the deuce you’re talking about.” He poured a glass of port and raised it to his lips.

Henrietta arched a brow. “Aren’t you going to offer me any?”

He frowned. “I wasn’t aware that you imbibed strong spirits. I’d be happy to ring Gibbs for some tea.”

“No, thank you,” she replied with a moue as he downed his drink. “I also came to apologize.”

“Apologize? For what?” he asked.

“For prying into your personal affairs. You were right that your mistress is no concern of mine.”

Julian scowled. “I don’t wish to discuss it, Hen.”

“Neither do I,” she replied primly.

“Then why are you here?” he demanded.

“I came to help you,” she said. “Am I too late, Julian? Is it already done?”

He shook his head with a groan. “Is what done?”

“Has the bank foreclosed on Price Hall?”

Snatching up the bottle of port, Julian flung himself into his favorite chair. “It is not done yet, but the banker assures me that the proceedings are imminent. There is no forestalling it.”

“But what if you gave them money?” she asked.

He drained his glass and set it down with careful deliberation and then poured himself another, welcoming the warmth that spread from his body outward toward his limbs. “This entire discussion is nothing but an exercise in futility.” He sounded a humorless laugh. “There is no money to give them.”

***

Henrietta glanced down at her folded hands in an attempt to compose herself. Her palms had been sweating since the moment she heard Julian’s voice in the foyer. It had all seemed so simple in theory; she had enough money to pay off at least half of Julian’s creditors and give him a chance to turn his affairs around. It was a straightforward solution to a complex problem. Explaining should have been easy, but it wasn’t. Julian’s pride would only get in the way. Somehow she had to convince him to let her help him.

She rose and crossed the room to face him, chin raised and hands folded in front of her. “Perhaps not,” she began stiffly, reciting the speech she’d rehearsed a dozen times. “I wish to discuss a matter of business with you. It’s an alliance of sorts . . .”

Slumped in his chair, with a half-filled glass dangling from his fingers, Julian stared at her with a perfectly blank expression. “An alliance? I have no patience for guessing games, Hen. Whatever it is you came to say, I wish you would just be done with it. Henrietta?” his low voice prompted when she still didn’t speak.

Henrietta shut her eyes and drew a deep fortifying breath. “I have recently come into some money, Julian. A great deal of money, actually.”

His brown eyes flickered. He set his glass down almost too carefully. “My felicitations on your good fortune, but I fail to see how this involves me.”

“I come bearing a proposition that I think could be mutually beneficial.”

“Proposition?” he repeated. “I’m not following you, Hen.”

“Some might even call it a proposal . . .” Her pulse raced. She looked up, licked her lips, and blurted, “Of marriage.”

Julian said nothing, just stared at her for a long painful moment.

“You needn’t look at me like I’ve sprouted a second head,” she said.

“Surely I didn’t hear that right,” he replied. “Did you just put forth a proposal of marriage?”

She responded with silent nod.

“Are you mad?” he asked.

“No, Julian,” she replied softly. “I assure you I am quite sound of mind and also of body. I come from a long and robust line, in case that is a concern. My mother bore my father seven healthy children.”

Julian shook his head with an incredulous look. “I can’t begin to comprehend this maggot that’s bored its way into your brain.”

“But you said yourself that you thought we would rub along well together.”

“I wasn’t talking about marriage, Hen! Did you think that I was?”

“No! Of course not! You made your feelings on the subject perfectly clear.”

“Then why this . . . this . . .” He threw his hands up and rolled his eyes.

“Because it would answer for both of us,” she said. “Please, Julian, at least hear me out.” Why was he making this so difficult? Henrietta’s stomach knotted. He’d refused even to kiss her the other night. It had never occurred to her until that moment that he might prefer returning to Portugal over marriage with her.

“All right. Explain.”

“What I propose is more of an alliance, or a treaty of sorts.”

“A treaty?” Julian repeated dubiously.

“Yes,” she said. “In this agreement, you would be as the larger, stronger nation who agrees to protect the smaller, weaker one from invaders. In return, I, as the smaller but richer nation would help to restore the fortunes you lost to those who pillaged you. You see how this benefits both of us?”