The Redemption of Julian Price(21)

“Do you have any idea how much money I owe?” he asked.

“Yes. You told me, remember? Twenty thousand pounds.”

“Are you saying that you have twenty thousand?” he asked.

“Well, no,” she replied. “I have only ten thousand, but surely that is enough to hold off your creditors and halt the foreclosure.”

“How, Hen? How have you come by this money?” he asked, gaze narrowed.

“After our . . . disagreement the other day, Lady Cheswick informed me that she intended to bequeath me with a large sum of money upon her passing. But after meeting you, she offered to augment my dowry in order to bring you up to scratch. She said it was enough to entice a minor nobleman.”

“It is indeed,” Julian replied with a scowl. “There are any number of high-ranking gentleman who would jump at the chance to wed you.”

“Do you honestly think I would wish that kind of marriage?” Henrietta scoffed. “If I did, and he turned out to be a fortune hunter, I could very well lose both my wealth and my freedom. If I wed you, however—”

“If you wed me, you would lose your fortune for a certainty,” he answered with a harsh laugh.

“That’s not how I see it, Julian. I view you as an investment. I wish to give you the money, but I would also expect something in return.”

“And what is that?” he asked.

“Your promise to bring your estate back to prosperity.”

“You deserve better. You deserve a man worthy of your love. You should have wed Thomas Wiggington,” he replied. He jerked out of his chair and began pacing, his expression contorted with emotion. “I can’t tell you how many times I have wished that it was me and not him who fell that day.”

Henrietta’s chest squeezed at Julian’s look of anguish. “But you are alive, Julian. And now I’m offering a way that we both could make the best of our bad situations. I love Shropshire, but I don’t wish to remain at home and raise my brother’s children, nor do I truly want to live as a spinster with some dour companion as my constant shadow. Neither of us is inclined to wed, but we both could gain something we desire from such an arrangement.”

“What if I were to fail and lose all your money?” he asked.

Henrietta debated telling him more, but this was Julian, a man she trusted as much as she would a brother. “It could be inconvenient for a time, but Lady Cheswick intends to leave me the bulk of her estate when she passes. I do not wish it on her, of course, but she is very old.”

“So you propose a mariage de convenance?” He eyed her speculatively. “Would you desire to reside in separate households?”

“I think not. It would be exceedingly wasteful, don’t you agree?”

“So you would make your home at Price Hall?”

“Why not? Would it really be so terrible? The estate needs your attention.”

He sighed. “I’m sorry, Hen, but I have been away a very long time. I’m accustomed to diversions that are not available in the country. I could not abide spending all of my time in Shropshire.”

Alone with me. Her heart sank. Was the notion so very repugnant to him? Was that the source of his reluctance? It was then that she realized she’d neglected to take one major factor into consideration—Julian kept a mistress, and that mistress resided somewhere in town.

As his wife, she could either turn a blind eye to the arrangement or request that he end the relationship, but that would require becoming his wife in every sense of the word. Did she desire that? More importantly, did he? She refused to ask because she simply couldn’t bear the thought of another rejection.

She chose her next words with great care. “If the idea is so disagreeable to you, perhaps we could lease a house in town for use during the season?”

“I suppose that would answer,” he replied.

“Julian, please know that I do not want to live in your pocket. I desire a certain amount of freedom in this proposed arrangement and would expect us both to live as we choose.” She paused. “As long as the estate is not neglected, and you exercise a certain amount of circumspection, I would expect you to carry on much as you are accustomed to doing.”

“Circumspection?” His gaze flickered and then held hers. “What are you saying, Hen? That you do not wish to consummate the union?”

“It’s not necessary that we do,” she replied, intently watching his face. Would he insist on consummation? Or did he prefer to keep his mistress?

“It is by law,” he stated.

“Who is to know but us?” she countered.

“What of children?” he asked.

“Do you want them?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I’ve never thought of it before.”

“Then I think we should allow ourselves a suitable period of adjustment, don’t you? If the arrangement does not work out between us, we could then seek an annulment.”

“Non-consummation is not grounds for annulment, Hen,” he said. “Only impotence allows a marriage to be dissolved, and I assure you I do not suffer from that particular affliction.”

A wave of heat crept up her neck at Julian’s intimation. Her flush deepened further at the recollection of their night at the inn. She was too well aware that he was capable, but did he desire it? He gave no true indication. His arguments thus far were rational rather than passionate, as if they were negotiating a bargain. But weren’t they? What had she expected? That Julian would suddenly take her into his arms and declare he couldn’t live without her? She chided herself for harboring ridiculous romantic fantasies.