The Perfect Arrangement (The Not So Saintly Sisters #4) - Annabelle Anders Page 0,10

dower house in addition to a small townhouse in Mayfair—as the original will reads, but I’ll want all of it spelled out clearly in the marriage contract so that there is never any doubt. In case…”

“In case we fail.”

He clenched his jaw. “Yes.”

It was a dismal thought. If they failed, that would mean he would be gone—dead.

“We will not fail.” It was a stupid promise to make but Lillian only wanted to reassure him. She barely knew him—in fact she knew him not at all. But he was dying. “Your Grace,” she added, cringing inwardly at the address.

“Christian. Will you call me Christian? Or Warwick, if you prefer.”

“Christian.” Lillian met his gaze. She was going to be intimate with this man all too soon. Waiting to know him better wasn’t really an option and might defeat the purpose of this entire endeavor. “And you must call me Lillian.”

He stared at her so hard that for a moment Lillian thought that he was going to call the entire arrangement off.

Were they both insane?

But then he exhaled loudly and stepped back.

“I look forward to seeing you in the morning, and I mean that literally,” he smiled wryly, “as I shall be wearing my spectacles then. I take it you’re staying at Crawford House.”

“Yes.” Of course, he and every other person amongst society had known her stepfather—or presumed to know him. He’d presented one face to the public and an altogether different one to his family.

“We’ll collect you at six. I realize it’s terribly early but…”

“The earlier we leave town, the better.” Her chest tightened as she mentally began considering the lies she’d have to tell. Was she actually going to go through with this?

Staring into the depths of his eyes, she wondered if he was as dumbfounded by their agreement as she was.

He was nothing like any of the gentlemen she knew. She found him attractive, very much so. She had thought so upon their first meeting.

But that was not what any of this was about and she would do well to remember it. They could be friends. It would be better if they were friends even, but nothing more than that.

“I’ll await you on the street.” She’d have to get past Mr. Warren, her mother’s butler, but that was the least of her concerns. “With my maid and a small valise.” She could send for the rest of her belongings after.

“I’ll have the duchess’ chamber readied while we’re away. As for the rest—” he cleared his throat, “we’ll decide as we go on. I don’t expect you to do anything… I’ll not presume… until you are ready.” Again, it struck her that this man, Christian, her future husband, certainly did not act like any duke she’d ever known. He was kind and humble and… dying.

Something in her throat thickened again, at the reminder. “But we should not wait overly long,” she confirmed.

He smiled apologetically. “No, I would rather not.”

Lillian dropped her gaze to the floor, acutely feeling the awkwardness of this aspect of their arrangement.

“Until tomorrow then.” His voice sounded gruffer than it had before.

He then opened the door and assisted her down the front steps.

“Lillian.” His voice halted her before she could walk away.

In answer, she turned and raised her brows.

“I’ll understand if you aren’t outside in the morning. I’ll understand if you change your mind.”

“And you?”

He looked for all the world like a man without a choice. “I’ll be there.”

As she walked away, she glanced over her shoulder one last time and saw that he remained on the sidewalk, exactly as she’d left him.

Staring after her, barefoot, his dog at his side.

She quickened her steps, almost as though she could run away from the decision she’d just made. Or simply because she felt anxious and rushed due to the nature of the affair. He was dying and she had no idea how much time he had to live.

She would not change her mind.

Lillian had never been a fickle person and wasn’t about to begin now. That being said, rather than rush directly home, she marched in the direction of her friend Olivia’s house. Although the daughter of a viscount, and a lady in her own right, Olivia Fellowes, the countess of Kingsley, wasn’t a typical London elite. In addition to being a lovely person, she was practically a relation, as Olivia was Louella’s older sister. And Louella was married to Lillian’s stepbrother, the Duke of Crawford.

As many members of the ton had already deserted London for the summer, Lillian