“Every farthing I own will be yours unconditionally if you agree to take on the task I’m about to propose.” Her perfect brows drew together. “And, sir, I do pray you will.”
How serious she looked about it. Sean smiled and nodded to himself. She probably wanted him to investigate someone who had offered for her. Wanted to see whether the rascal had a mistress tucked away or if he might be prone to reckless gambling. Simple matters, easily unearthed. One should also discover beforehand any dangerous or peculiar sexual habits, as well, for her safety’s sake, but she would never think to ask for that.
At any rate, Sean admitted she showed a modicum of good sense in checking a suitor’s background. He only wondered why the men of her family left it to her to determine the fellow’s worth.
Sean hoped the man in question deserved her. The gossamer cloak of innocence she wore could too easily be ripped away, leaving her victim to some scoundrel bent on ill use of that lovely body and the little legacy she mentioned.
As for the offer of her whole inheritance, he knew that a few hundred pounds would seem a fortune to this little country rustic. That hardheaded stepfather of hers would never allow her control over more than that, Sean felt certain.
She regarded him steadily, as though she were taking in every nuance of his expression. A bit unnerving, that regard of hers. And women never unnerved him. He knew them too well.
He shifted, leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Must be very important to you, this proposal.”
“Quite,” she answered. “I wish to be married.”
“I figured as much,” he said, fully intending to send her down the hall to an acquaintance of his who handled such personal investigations. He usually limited his own tasks to matters of commerce. Nevertheless, he was curious enough to wonder whether his own intervention might not be more helpful if warding off a rake became necessary. Why not give the lady a hand with this? He had only one small case pending, and that figured more in the nature of a short holiday.
“Very well, then. Who is this lucky fellow you have set your sights upon?” he asked politely.
“You, sir,” she replied with a dimpled smile. “I want to marry you.”
Him? She wanted to marry him? Sean choked back a laugh. He sucked in a deep breath and bit his lips together. He must try not to sound condescending or he would hurt her feelings. She obviously considered this a legitimate proposal. Damned serious business, too, judging by the look of her.
“Well now, I am truly flattered, but I’m afraid I must decline, Miss Middlebrook. I have no desire to enter into the wedded state. I’ve been there, you see, and I can’t say that I liked it in the least. Nothing personal, you understand.”
For the first time, she appeared somewhat flustered. Sean watched as she recovered her decorum and lifted that sweetly rounded chin. Her words held a slight ring of desperation. “You are a man of much experience, are you not, Mr. Wilder?”
“Yes, you could say that, however—”
“You have traveled? Faced dangerous situations? Known a great number of…of women?”
Sean felt uncomfortable with her frankness, but only because of her obvious innocence. He couldn’t think of a soul he knew well who possessed that quality. His wife surely hadn’t, and Camilla wouldn’t know the meaning of the word.
How much did this Laura Middlebrook really know about him? he wondered. Rumors abounded, of course. He had even created some of them himself. But the truth about him was even worse. He might have to give her that truth to dissuade her from this madness.
For now, he simply answered, “Yes.”
“I have been in town for a week, sir. I have made it a point to ask about you.” She looked neither apologetic nor embarrassed by the admission, he noted. “Please don’t be upset about it. I’m certain you make enquiries about people every day as a matter of course, given your line of work.”
Sean straightened and leaned forward again, his face not an arm’s length from hers. “Does your brother know you have come to me with this ridiculous proposition?”
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