Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Gabe opened a strongbox hidden in a cabinet and withdrew a large, flat velvet box. He placed the box on the desk blotter, inordinately anxious. “Go on, then. Open it.”
She lifted the top and peered inside. “Oh, Gabriel.”
He moved behind the chair, looking over her shoulder at the sparkling array of rings. Diamond, ruby, sapphire, emerald . . . every precious gem he could think to request at the jeweler’s, and a few he hadn’t known existed.
“I thought you’d prefer to be surprised, but I didn’t trust myself to choose one you liked. So I simply bought them all.”
“They’re exquisite.”
He waved off her praise. “None of them are fine enough for you.”
“I don’t need even one ring so grand, let alone a tray of them.”
“Too late. They’re all yours. Wear them all at once, if you like. Or designate one for each day of the week.”
She pried a ring from the velvet padding—a pale pink diamond set in gold and ringed with smaller sparkling stones. “I always did love pink.”
“Try it on.”
Penny slipped the ring on her third finger. She held her hand at a distance to admire the way the stone flashed in the light.
“It’s beautiful.” She rose from the chair and kissed him. “Thank you. I love it.”
He exhaled, relieved. “Good. Now let’s have it back. I’ll lock it up for safekeeping.”
She held her hand close to her chest. “Must I take it off?”
“Yes, you must. We’re not engaged.”
She arched one golden eyebrow and smiled. “Yet.”
Good God. He didn’t know where her faith in him originated—dropped off by pixies floating on the breeze with toadstool parasols, most likely—but at this point, he didn’t bloody well care. If he pulled this off, he would be either the most cunning bastard in England, or the luckiest. Probably both.
Pouting a bit, she twisted the ring off her finger and dropped it into his hand. “We’ve agreed to marry each other. Bended knee or not, that seems to meet the definition of a betrothal.”
“It doesn’t meet my definition,” he said firmly. “Not until I’ve spoken with your brother.”
He replaced the rings in the safe, taking his time to be certain the strongbox was locked securely.
When he was finished, he turned to see Penny crouched on the floor, surrounded by scattered papers and correspondence. Papers she was never meant to see.
“Gabriel, what is all this?”
“It’s not what you think.”
“I can read.” Clutching the papers in both hands, Penny shook her head. “You’re planning to ruin my family.”
Penny hadn’t been meaning to snoop, but as she’d risen from the desk chair, she’d knocked the papers to the floor. When she crouched to retrieve them, she saw her own name. It was a betrothal contract.
She scanned through the first few pages, feeling entirely justified in doing so. This would be her marriage, too. Apparently, he’d made several drafts. Just like the rings, he’d prepared for every possibility. Why hadn’t he consulted her?
And then, at the bottom of the pile, she found an agreement that wasn’t drafted in her name. It bore Bradford’s name, and it wasn’t a betrothal contract.
It was a betrayal.
“You were never meant to see those,” he said.
“Oh, I can imagine I wasn’t,” she replied.
She certainly understood why Gabriel had kept these papers from her view. The reason was inscribed in black ink on crisp parchment, legible and stark, defying her to hope there could be any misunderstanding.
The truth was plain, and it was a dagger to her heart.
“This says you’ve purchased a loan from the bank. A loan taken against my family’s property.”
She lifted her head and found Gabriel staring back at her. His expression was inscrutable.
He didn’t even attempt to deny it. “Yes, I did.”
“That mortgage was drawn for the purpose of farmland improvements. It was meant to help tenants through the lean harvests, keep them from starving. Now you’re threatening to call in the debt unless my brother agrees to our marriage?”
“No, no. You’re misunderstanding.”
She rattled the contract at him. “It’s right here, in plain language.”
“I’m not threatening to call in the debt. I’m offering to forgive the debt entirely. In exchange for your dowry.”
Her jaw dropped. “That’s supposed to sound better?”
He pushed a hand through his hair. “It was meant as a last resort, to be used only if he wouldn’t give his consent. Call it insurance.”
“I call it insulting. Because that’s what it is. You planned to do this without my ever knowing? I’d blithely go about telling everyone how devoted we are to each other, and all the time my family would know the truth. That I was purchased.” She let the paper slip to the floor as she stood. “When you said you insisted on doing this ‘properly,’ I had no idea this is what you intended.”
“Don’t make so much of it. We both know how aristocrat marriages work. No matter which man you married, your dowry would be a legal transaction.”