The Seduction (10 page)

Trevor was beginning to see the whole picture. "You want me to make her fall in love with me, so that she'll marry me."

"I'm afraid it's the only way." When Trevor did not reply, he added in surprise, "I wouldn't have thought you the sort of man to be shocked by this."

Trevor wasn't shocked. The girl had to marry someone, after all, and he could appreciate Henry's position. It was probably every father's deepest fear. "What makes you think I can succeed where so many others have failed?"

"I don't know that you can. But it's worth a try." He downed the last swallow from his glass, then refilled it from the bottle between them.

"So," Trevor said, "your main concern is to see your daughter settled in her own home with a titled husband who can give her respectability and security."

"Yes. If that doesn't happen, God only knows who she might take it into her head to marry. Or, she might not marry at all, and what kind of life is that for a woman? She's actually threatened to run off to a Greek island and live in sin with some starving artist who'll paint her in the moonlight. She'd do it, too, if she fell in love with the scoundrel."

Henry gave his mustache an irritable tug. "Besides, I want grandchildren. I didn't work this hard for the past thirty years to leave it all to charity. But most important, I want her to make a good match. As I said, I think you would be the right man for her."

Trevor did not answer, and the other man went on, "Of course, if you don't think you can do it. . ."

Trevor flashed Henry a wry glance and refused to be drawn in. He leaned back in his chair and stared into space, Margaret's image forming in his mind. The shape of her came first, the appealing violin shape, the generous curves. Wide brown eyes, a round chin, plump cheeks, and a small, straight nose. Creamy white skin and a becoming blush. It was an ordinary female face, an honest face. Too honest. "In order to secure her future, you'd allow her to be deceived?"

"I don't expect you to lie to her," Henry answered testily. "I'm hoping you might be able to persuade her. Besides, it's better to have a disillusioned heart and security than a disastrous marriage made for irrational reasons."

"Your daughter obviously does not agree with you."

Henry shook his head with impatience. "Margaret thinks marriage should be romantic, and life should be one exciting adventure after another. I love my daughter, but I have never claimed to understand her. The point is, she has no idea what marriage is really about. She's bound to be disillusioned, no matter who she marries."

That was true enough. Trevor had seen plenty of marriages and knew there was very little romance in them.

"This is in your best interests as well, Ashton. You have to marry to secure an heir." He paused, then played his last card. "And you need the money rather desperately."

Trevor shot him a sharp glance. "You seem to hone in on all the salient points, Mr. Van Alden."

"I told you, I've heard all the gossip. Your late brother's expensive tastes and talent for bad investments have never been a secret."

"You don't have to tell me about my brother's shortcomings. I know all about them."

"Well, are you going to do it?"

Instead of answering, Trevor took a swallow of brandy and asked another question. "What sort of dowry do you have in mind?"

Henry smiled. "I thought the financial arrangements would be important to you."

"You brought it up."

"True. Why don't you give me a starting point?"

Trevor ran his finger around the rim of his glass, and wondered just how much to ask for. He needed two hundred thousand pounds to pay off his brother's debt, but he had to add enough to ensure the future. Also, this was a negotiation.

"Five hundred thousand pounds."

Henry didn't even blink. He pursed his lips and leaned forward, ready to negotiate. "I'll give you a lump sum of two hundred thousand pounds as a marriage settlement—I do believe that is the sum of your late brother's debt? In addition, a monthly allowance of three thousand pounds for the care and support of your estate, and a monthly allowance for Margaret of five hundred pounds. The rest of her inheritance, however, will be held in trust for her children." He met Trevor's gaze across the table. "Do we have a deal?"

Trevor set down his glass and stared at it thoughtfully for a long moment. He thought of Margaret Van Alden's innocent curiosity about kissing and what that had led to. He thought of her face, which was as easy to read as a book. She was also very desirable, and had the promise of passion. He didn't have any doubt that he could persuade the girl to marry him, but he envisioned her innocent eyes and honest face, and something made him hesitate.

On the other hand, this was the perfect solution. He would have enough money to secure the estates, he would eventually gain an heir, and he wouldn't have to go through all the fuss of the marriage mart. He thought of the estate and all its responsibilities and shoved his momentary hesitation aside. "Yes," he finally said. "I'll do it. On two conditions."

Henry frowned, displeased. "You're hardly in a position to impose conditions."

"And it seems your chances of finding a suitable husband for your daughter are getting slimmer every day. I'll not be put on a monthly allowance like a schoolboy. If I marry your daughter, I will be the one to support her. To do that, I need capital."

"Very well. Three hundred thousand pounds up front then."

Trevor wondered if he could once again call Henry's bluff. "Four hundred thousand," he said firmly. "Or find someone else."

Henry thought about it, then he said grudgingly, "Very well, but I still insist on giving my daughter an allowance of her own, and that my approval be given to any investments."

It was a concession, and Trevor suspected that the other man very seldom made concessions. "Agreed."

"You said you had two conditions. What's the other one?"

Trevor knew this was going to be an even more difficult point for Henry to concede than the other had been. "I want an absolutely free hand in this. No matter what happens, you will not question the means by which I obtain her hand in marriage."

"Don't think I haven't heard about your reputation, Ashton. Arthur has told me about your affair with your late brother's wife. He assures me it is untrue, although he also admits there has been talk of many others. I need a man who has a way with women, but if you are suggesting deliberately getting caught in a compromising situation, I will not condone—"

"I am suggesting no such thing. Her reputation will not suffer. And I will not take advantage of her innocence, if that is your fear. I give you my word of honor, and despite my rather black reputation, that is still worth something. Are we agreed?"

Henry considered the matter for some time. "Very well," he said, but his face darkened. "If you break your word, Ashton, if you dishonor my daughter in any way, I'll kill you with my own hands."

"I don't doubt it. But I do not break my word, sir. And I do not ruin innocent young ladies."

Henry was satisfied. "I believe you. In fact, you remind me a great deal of myself when I was a young man. When I return to London, I'll have the terms of our marriage settlement drawn up. When you obtain Margaret's consent, we'll sign them. I feel it only fair to warn you that you don't have a great deal of time. It's only seven weeks until Easter. After that, Margaret will be in London for the Season, and if you have not obtained her consent by then, other suitors will be ready to court her, and I will not prevent them."

Trevor wasn't worried. Seven weeks was more than enough time, and competition from other suitors did not concern him. "What is her itinerary until then?"

"She will be in Rome for Carnival until Ash Wednesday, then she is planning to leave for Florence with Lord and Lady Kettering. She will return to London just before Easter."

"With Carnival going on, I doubt I'll be able to find rooms in Rome at this late date."

"I'll take care of that." Henry leaned forward in his chair. "Now, there are some things about Margaret that you need to know if you are to court her properly. You must become familiar with her likes and dislikes. She loves—"

"No," Trevor interrupted. "I'm not going to cater to her every whim. Besides, there is nothing you can tell me about her that would help me now."

"But—"

"I thought we had agreed this would be done my way. I assure you, your daughter's likes and dislikes are irrelevant. Good Lord, if I only did what she liked, she'd never fall in love with me. Women, I'm afraid, are like that."

"Margaret is not like most of the women you've known."

Despite her innocence, he doubted it. He'd known a lot of women. "It doesn't matter. Mystery is part of the game. Leave it to me, and don't question it."

Henry tugged at his mustache irritably. "I guess I have no choice."

"Neither do I," Trevor assured him and stood up. "And neither, it seems, does she."

He started for the door, but paused and turned to the other man once more. "It might also be advisable if you pretended to disapprove of me. Tell her you know best, assure her I'm a bad lot and quite disreputable, and forbid her to further our acquaintance. I have a feeling that might make me more appealing."

"That is ridiculous. I don't understand what difference that will make."

Trevor grinned. "All her other suitors probably didn't understand either, and look what happened to them." With that, he left the card room.

In his own bedroom, Trevor closed the door behind him and laughed aloud, a laugh of triumph and disbelief. The ideal solution to his problem had just fallen into his lap. How lucky could a man get?

He loosened his cravat and sank down into a chair, reminding himself that luck was a fickle mistress, enjoyable while it lasted, but not to be depended upon. He pushed aside the triumph of his momentary victory. If he was going to succeed in this courtship, he needed more than luck. He needed strategy.

He remembered her words of two days before.
If you are looking to marry a fortune, you will need to look farther afield.
Margaret might be innocent, but she was not a fool. She was also quite skittish about fortune hunters.

He had to come up with a plan, a campaign designed to pique her interest, spark her desire, and eventually earn her trust. The easiest way to do that would be to get her off alone somewhere, but even with her father gone, Cornelia would still be hovering at her elbow. Chaperones were a damned inconvenient thing.

He leaned back in the chair, picturing Margaret in his mind. Eyes the color of fine whiskey, too honest to conceal her feelings. Thick eyelashes that—thank God—did not flutter at him in the helpless, beguiling fashion so characteristic of society debutantes. A mouth too wide to be considered the fashionable rosebud shape. Not an outstanding beauty by society's standards, he supposed. But he thought of the full lips that had trembled beneath his touch and hinted at an underlying passion far more important than looks. She might not have the smallest waist in her circle of friends, but it was small enough to emphasize the lush curves of her body.

She was soft and desirable, but there was nothing coy or delicate about her. She was bold enough to look him in the eye and blunt enough to tell him what she thought of him.

Margaret was a woman who would never be able to deceive him. Nor would she be able to manipulate him, although he didn't doubt she would try. As a wife, she would suit him very well. Winning her would not be easy, but nothing worth having was ever easily attained. With a bit of ingenuity, he would succeed.

Tomorrow, he'd wire to England and inform Collier he was postponing his return home for another two months, instructing him to keep the creditors at bay. It would cause more gossip, but that could not be helped. He had to win over an heiress. Margaret Van Alden would be his wife. She just didn't know it yet.