Page 44 of In With a Chance

“I do,” he repeated, painfully aware of the echoes of the marital vows in their most recent statements. Damn. “Miss Chance, I… I like you.”

Gwen looked at him expectantly, as though waiting for the rest of his speech.

Bother. Should there be more? He could not think of more. What else was there to say, other than the fact that he liked her and liked her far more than he could ever imagine liking another woman?

Perhaps best to keep the last of that to myself.

“You like me,” she repeated, evidently confused.

Ernest sighed, resisting the urge to drop his head in his hands. He had to add that resistance to the urge to run from the room, but apparently, the two could war together, leaving him free to say, “Yes. Very much.”

“Oh,” said Gwen politely, nodding vaguely, as though he had intimated a preference for strawberry jam over blackcurrant. Only after a few more nods did a sudden jolt spark through her body, her eyes widen, and her mouth gasp, “Oh!”

“Yes,” Ernest said awkwardly, trying to smile. “And I know there is no more I can say on the matter—”

“No, no,” Gwen said in a whisper, her eyes still wide.

“—and you have done nothing to give me false expectations—”

“No,” she whispered, dropping her gaze to her hands as her cheeks flushed with color.

Ernest halted in his speech. Now that was interesting. Did she believe in some way that she had given him expectations?

He certainly expected to be filled with joy whenever he saw her. He expected to long for her presence like a man longed for the shore after a decade at sea. He expected to be devastated when the announcement of her marriage was printed in the paper.

But no more than that. Just that.

“And I cannot marry you,” Ernest said heavily, wanting to be absolutely clear.

Gwen’s head jerked up. “You can’t?”

Obviously, he couldn’t. He needed to marry a fortune, and though Gwendoline Chance did not know that, she could surely put together the details of his story and realize he would not have been here in London unless he had been seeking a bride.

And she understood her father’s position, didn’t she? Ernest was no expert in raising daughters, but from what he had seen, Lord Pernrith was open with his daughters and had always been so. Michael had certainly always been cheerfully open about his inability to partake in some university activities due to a lack of coin. Ernest could hardly believe the head of the family would still have been poring over ledgers if a windfall had dropped into their laps.

No, it was quite clear. He needed to marry a fortune, and Gwen had none. So it could not happen.

“Oh. Why?” asked Gwen politely, as though she were inquiring about the weather.

Ernest cleared his throat. “I… Well, my brother—the estate, I mean, it was left with certain debts—”

“So you seek to marry a fortune.” For some reason, Gwen’s smile had not dissipated and had in fact merely grown. “You must be here for The Eligible Ladies of High Society by some strange name I can never remember. Mama swore by it.”

“Amberleen Trinkett,” murmured Ernest, unable to understand her.

He had presumed, once she’d discovered what a mercenary brute he was, that she would turn against him—or at the very least, turn her nose up at him.

Apparently not.

“You presume I will be shocked, but I am a practical-minded woman,” Gwen said lightly, shifting her book from one hand to the other. “The Marquess of Ravenshurst is a very rich man. A very kind one, too, obviously,” she added with a flush of her cheeks.

So that was what it was.

They were both mercenary. Oh, in the fashionable, polite way that anyone in Society was, it was true, but Ernest saw with surprise that they were quite of the same mind.

One could not build a life on romance.

“Yes. Indeed. That is why I cannot marry you—that, and other reasons,” Ernest said, trying not to think of Michael’s expression if he ever told the man that he had said such a thing.