Page 4 of Wicked By Design

“Very well, but we shall be just outside the door,” Hetty said firmly. “I cannot pretend I am not shocked, or that I believe this was a good thing to have done, but you are my sister, Cecilia, and if anyone does anything to upset you—” At this she sent Rivington a stern look. “—no matter how provoked he may be feeling—”

“I will not lay a finger on her, no matter how tempted I might be to wring her pretty neck,” Rivington growled.

Cilly swallowed hard, fighting the temptation to demand Hetty stay after all.

The door closed, and they were alone.

Finally, Cilly steeled her nerves and, knowing she could not avoid doing so for a moment longer, met Rivington’s eyes.

It was like reaching out and touching a lightning strike. The intensity of his gaze collided with hers and she took an instinctive step backwards.

“Your sister is right. Miss Bradford was hurried off to the countryside where she was hastily married to a second cousin because I refused to do the honourable thing,” he said, his voice hard, the words implacable. “I do not like having my hand forced. I intensely dislike being manipulated.”

“No, you prefer to be the one doing the manipulating. I am well aware of that,” Cilly replied, fighting to keep her voice from shaking.

“Then what on earth did you think you were playing at? You’ve just ruined yourself for a man who is going to walk out of that door and forget you ever existed.”

The words were hard and cruel, deliberately so, and she knew she deserved every bit of his anger, but she also knew—or hoped—he would not do it.

“What did Miss Bradford have to offer you?”

His head reared back as if she’d slapped him. “I beg your pardon?” he demanded icily.

“You heard me.” Cilly held his gaze, which contained about as much warmth as a Siberian winter night. “Was she rich? Was she well connected?”

“She was young and beautiful,” he replied, injecting the words with enough emphasis for Cilly to hear the unspoken at least.

“As I thought,” she said with satisfaction. Cilly steadied her nerves. Sick to her stomach now, she found it hard to believe she was about to enter a negotiation for the rest of her life. “The foolish child was a green little girl who could give you nothing that you wanted.”

He snorted and stalked to the fireplace, leaning one arm on the mantelpiece, looking at her with such scorn it might almost have flayed her. “And what is it you are offering me, Lady Cecilia?” he asked, dropping his voice to a dangerous purr, one that warned her of just how much trouble she was in.

“A deal,” she said firmly. “One in which we both get what we want.”

His eyes narrowed. “How can you possibly know what I want? Unless you mean money, and I know very well your father will disown you as he did your sister if you marry me, so you can forget trying to wave your fifty-thousand-pound dowry under my nose. You’ve lost your value, I’m afraid, my dear. Soiled doves come cheap.”

Cilly blushed at the crude expression but refused to allow him to cow her. He had every right to hate her, every right to be utterly furious with her. She would not weep over a few ugly words when she had brought them both to this place.

“I assure you I would not be so foolish. However, I have fifteen thousand pounds of my own. It is still a substantial amount, enough to restore Rivington Manor, I should think, if managed carefully.” His expression sharpened, and her confidence rose a cautious degree. “But I can do better than that.”

He snorted. “I doubt it. If you are thinking of making me a cosy home and delivering brats by the dozen, you may think again. I never intended to marry, my dear. I had planned for the title to die with me, unless Gideon produced a male heir, in which case he may pass the thing on with my blessing. But I’ll not continue our wretched line, so if you are hoping for a family, you have backed the wrong horse.”

Cilly blinked but showed no other reaction. She had prepared herself for a marriage of convenience, after all. She had not expected love, of all things, but she had thought perhaps…. She stiffened her spine. It was of no matter. She would be a doting aunt to Hetty’s children.

“That was not part of my offer,” she replied coolly.

Surprise flickered in his eyes, there and gone, but she had his undivided attention now.

“I will make you respectable,” she said.

For a moment he only stared at her, and then he threw back his head and laughed and laughed.

She waited patiently, watching as he wiped tears of mirth from his eyes and composed himself once more.

“Forgive me, my lady,” he said, his voice still thick with amusement. “That took me rather by surprise.”

“Did it? I cannot think why, considering it is what you want so very badly.”

His eyes narrowed, gazing at her as if she’d grown two heads. Cilly stared back at him, unblinking. She was not wrong about this. She was not wrong. She couldn’t be.