he had stepped too close to the line. He brought his feet down from his desk, letting them fall to the floor with a bang. “Sorry, my lord,” he said. “That’s the proper address, isn’t it? I’m a businessman, always have been. Came up the hard way. I think in numbers. No offense.”
“None taken, sir,” James said. He drew a long breath through his nostrils and settled his own feet firmly on the floor. “I admit, I had not expected our conversation to take this turn.”
“Ah.” Allington tipped his head to one side and gave him a look reminiscent of Annis’s penetrating one. “Please tell me what you intended for us to talk about. I’ll listen. Always ready with free advice, though!” He gave a snort of laughter and then, with obvious effort, fell silent.
The moment had arrived. James said, “Thank you, sir. I will come to the point, if you don’t mind. I’ve come to ask your permission to marry your daughter. To make Annis my marchioness. I’m sorry about the indebtedness of Rosefield, but I’m a healthy man, well educated, reasonably well thought of among my friends and family. I will do my best to make her a good husband.”
George Allington raised one graying eyebrow. “That’s why you’re in New York, eh?”
“Yes, sir.” James heard the aristocratic accent dominating his voice and tried to soften it. “Yes, I came to New York for this express purpose.”
“Well,” Allington said thoughtfully. “Well, well, well.” His gaze dropped to his desk. He picked up his pen—a beautiful pen, carved of some dark wood, ebony perhaps—and tapped it against his hand. “I can’t say I’m completely surprised. My wife was quite set on Annis marrying someone like yourself. Actually, she wired me that an engagement had been arranged.” He glanced up and seemed, for the first time, unsure of himself. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have said that. It appears not to have been true.”
“It’s quite all right, sir,” James said. “It is not true yet, but the dowager marchioness—my mother, that is—and Mrs. Allington very much wanted it to happen. Your daughter and I have discussed this quite frankly.”
“Oh, you’ve discussed it, have you?” Allington now tapped his blunt chin with his pen, so hard James was afraid he would spatter his white linen collar. “And what does Annis have to say about all of this? About becoming your marchioness?”
“She has not said yes, sir. But except in the case of one rather clumsy effort on my part some months ago, which I have taken care not to repeat, she has not said no, either.”
“That doesn’t sound like Annis. She’s a girl who has always known her own mind.”
“If I receive your permission, I intend to speak to her again this evening.”
“Hmmm. What about the money?” Allington asked.
Another shock clenched James’s belly. In his circle it was rare to speak directly about money. He quite understood that this was an affectation, a pretense made possible by privilege. His friends could afford to pretend money didn’t concern them. He had done it himself, until his father died. He wondered if he could learn to face the question of money as squarely as this plainspoken man did.
He drew a breath and met Allington’s gaze. The eyes that were forget-me-not blue in Annis were the blue of polished steel in her father. For all the jollity of his address and the laughter, James had no doubt Allington was a hardheaded businessman. He might claim he had debts, but James would have wagered they were not heavy ones.
“Well, sir,” he said, as evenly as he could. He didn’t clear his throat, and he didn’t look away from those hard eyes. “As I’ve confessed to you, money is an issue at Rosefield Hall. However, there are steps I will be taking to pay down my father’s debts, and I will salvage what I can. I wish to marry your daughter because I care for her. My mother also is quite taken with her and admires her spirit and her independence. I believe I can make your daughter happy, and I know my mother will support us in our marriage, which is no small thing.”
“Indeed it is not,” Allington said. He laid down the pen, and his gaze drifted to the view of the river beyond the Allington gardens. “I was quite happily married to Annis’s mother. She died of a fever when Annis was tiny, but I know how good marriages can be.”