Page 22 of The Duchess Debt

He froze, for a moment not moving, not even to breathe, as he stared down at her.

“I’m taking your silence as a firm five hundred from you, then,” she announced.

Smiling smugly, she moved past him to return to the table.

But he grasped her elbow from behind and stopped her. He lowered his mouth over her shoulder to her ear. “Be assured, Helena, that you always look beautiful, even in old bits of cotton.” She caught her breath as he wantonly teased, “Perhaps even when wearing nothing at all.”

Releasing her arm to leave her standing there, momentarily stunned, he grabbed a sweet roll from the buffet and walked back to the table. Helena thought she saw a triumphant smile at his lips before he sank his teeth into the pastry. He didn’t sit but stood behind his chair as he ate the roll, then picked up her list of stipulations. He mumbled around the bite in his mouth, “Rules of engagement, hmm?”

“Non-negotiable.” She set down her plate at the chair next to his and sat before her weakened knees could give out, but she was no longer hungry. Her belly was too full of butterflies. “Just as your terms were at the solicitor’s yesterday.”

Yet their separate lists had one significant difference. Her rules weren’t meant to stifle his role in the marriage. Hers were designed to make Gabe find happiness by becoming a true father to Alice.

He looked up at her. “Rule one…we must eat dinner together?”

“Every night.” She smiled sweetly at him. “But you have the right to choose the menu if you’d like. I’m certain Cook and Mrs. Brimley would be happy to discuss the courses with you.”

He gave that the roll of his eyes it deserved and dropped his attention back to the list. “We must have breakfast with Alice—”

“Starting tomorrow, here in the breakfast room. Just the three of us—and Lady Verity, if she would like.” She clarified pointedly as she reached for the pot of chocolate, “No Nanny Potts.”

“Thatpoint I won’t argue with,” he muttered. He paused. “Must tuck Alice into bed ourselves every night?”

She carefully poured the chocolate into her bone china cup. “And read her a story.”

“That I must teach her how to ride a horse and to—” He cut himself off, blinking. “I have to teach her how to fish?”

“Yes.”

He asked, deadpan, “And who teaches me?”

She fought not to smile. “The point isn’t catching fish. It’s spending time together.” She leveled him a no-nonsense look as she set down the pot. “Riding and fishing, along with taking walks and going for picnics, although that one can be reduced to every third day, I would imagine.”

“I won’t have time for picnics. Construction on the new bridge starts soon.”

“And yet you must still eat.” She shrugged and brought her cup to her lips with both hands, elbows resting unladylike on the table. “If you can’t come to the picnic, then we’ll bring the picnic to you. I’m certain Cook will be happy to send along biscuits and goodies for all the workers, too.”

He wisely said nothing to counter that and continued, “That I spend time with you doing at least one activity of your choosing each day.” He tossed the list onto the table. “Unless your choice of activity is hauling stone and wood for bridge supports, then I think you’re out of luck.”

“You told me you were a convenient bride,” she reminded him, repeating his words from the solicitor’s office. Then she muttered into her chocolate, “Perhaps not so convenient a bride after all.”

He folded his arms. “You’re serious? You are honestly laying out these stipulations to our marriage contract?”

“Every. Last. One.” She punctuated that with a clank of her cup on its saucer.

A low chuckle rose from him, although Helena couldn’t have said whether his amusement was aimed at her or her demands. Clearly, he thought they were ludicrous. Perhaps they would seem so to someone who didn’t know the motives behind her machinations. But she knew exactly how important each was. Her marriage was no longer about saving her family. It was now about saving Alice.

And to do that, she first had to save Gabe.

“Fine. But don’t blame me when the dressmaker chases you down to demand additional payment or when our picnics and riding lessons are interrupted by stone masons and carpenters.” He reached for the small dish of blackberry jam, dipped his knife into it, then faintly marked his initials across the bottom of the paper with its pointed tip. “Agreed.”

He handed the paper to her.

She grimaced at his improvised signature. “I could have found a quill and ink, you know.”

“Yes, but this way I’ve got a good chance of birds stealing it during one of your picnics and devouring all evidence I ever agreed to that list.”

Not a list. His salvation. “No such luck.” Yet she gave him a victorious smile. “Our agreement starts this afternoon. Alice and I will meet you at two o’clock at the village church for a walk after lunch.”