The Perfect Arrangement (The Not So Saintly Sisters #4) - Annabelle Anders Page 0,8
It would be better for him to see his child before his death—to give him peace in the end but also because… he would be a father.
But there was something else she needed to know. “And once you’ve passed?”
“The mother of my son will go on to have all the benefits that had been afforded to her before my death… without the burden of having a husband.” He met her gaze again. “I would only ask that you guide my sister through society.”
“And the child?” She could hardly believe she was considering this.
In that moment, he stared into her eyes. “I would rather not prolong this process… this insane search. You may have guessed that I had not intended on posting such an ad and doubt I would ever have actually resorted to doing so.” He shook his head. “But I am not in a position to delay.” Although he’d said earlier he couldn’t see her clearly, he pinned his gaze upon her steadily. “I barely know you, but I would have to trust you. I would simply ask, simply hope, that you would raise the child to be honorable and of good character. Tutors will take over his teachings eventually, but you would always be his mother.”
Lillian nodded. He seemed trustworthy somehow. She didn’t understand it and yet her instincts didn’t usually fail her. She’d never liked her stepfather, even as a child. Nor had she any fond thoughts for the gentleman her stepfather had wanted her to marry, Lord Emery, the Earl of Rothberg’s heir. She’d since learned that Emery was an itinerate gambler who regularly frequented brothels.
Her mother had married the Duke of Crawford after being assured by all of her friends that he would make an excellent husband and father. He’d been highly recommended by upstanding members of the ton.
She did not think she was exaggerating in that, before long, she and her sisters had come to think of him as something of a monster.
Lillian licked her lips. “You wish to act in haste?”
He nodded. “The sooner, the better.”
She trailed her gaze from his thick, unruly dark brown hair, to his clear blue eyes, past the strong chin she could barely make out beneath his stubble, and then down to his hands. His hands looked strong, and yet they’d been gentle with his dog.
“Will you do it?” he asked, his voice sounding gruffer than before.
Lillian had only ever done the responsible thing. She’d rarely acted in haste and when she did, on those rare occasions, she only ever did so after garnering considerable council. She’d watched over her two younger sisters and guided them toward decent and upstanding behavior.
It was time she tried something different. And yet...”
“I am inclined to want to help you.”
He watched her closely, his gaze shifting from one of her eyes to the other. “You will marry me, then?”
“My brother isn’t in town. I’d require his consent.” Which, indeed, posed a significant problem. Getting Crawford’s consent would require time. Time that this man, perhaps, didn’t have.
“We could travel to Gretna Green.” By the look in his eyes, he seemed as surprised by the suggestion as she was. “Establish terms over the course of the journey.”
She’d never considered herself the type to elope. She was tempted…
“There would be no turning back, once we embarked upon the journey.” Because her reputation would already be in tatters.
He dipped his chin.
Lord Roberts would cease to be a problem, as would any other man her mother pushed her toward.
“When?”
“Could you be ready to travel tomorrow?”
Were they really going to do this?
This time, it was she who nodded. “But would you be so kind as to answer one more question for me?”
“Of course.”
“Your name, sir. Might I know your name?”
He laughed nervously, as though he too wasn’t completely certain of the bargain they’d struck. “Christian Masterson, Duke of Warwick. And you are?”
“Lillian Prentiss, my mother was married to the late Duke of Crawford.”
He tilted his head. “Lady Lillian?”
“The duke was not my father. I am Miss Prentiss.” Although her mother had always introduced them with the title of Lady.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise.”
“And this impertinent fellow,” he gestured toward the dog, languishing on his foot, “Is Horace.”
Chapter 3
The Arrangement
Lillian stepped tentatively through the corridor with her hands behind her back. He’d asked if he could summon a carriage to take her home, but she’d insisted he not. She wished he wasn’t a duke. She had a particular revulsion for dukes.