The Notorious Proposal Page 2

  “Well, of course, I am worried.” Actually she was vexed, but she’d not tell the old man that.

  “There, you see?”

  Ally stopped herself from scowling at the whole situation. Nana never kept anything from her. “How much is needed to make my grandmother well again?”

  Rubbing his forehead, he pushed gray hairs to the side. “Supplies are what we lack. From the generous donations we’ve had, the board collectively has issued a limitation on each patient, as to ensure everyone recommended here will be treated. There are many other patients in this facility, you see, and we’ve used up all of the funds entitled to your grandmother already.”

  Ally felt like crying, and noticed she already was. “Supplies. Funds,” she repeated slowly. She gasped when a sudden thought came to her and startled Dr. Reeves. He blinked at her and straightened his spectacles with one hand, while placing another over his heart. With furrowed brows, he opened his mouth, appearing ready to chastise her, but she blurted, “I have funds! My father had left them to me.”

  “Miss Overton.” He expelled a long breath before continuing, “The facility needs five hundred pounds, more or less.”

  “Five hundred—” she choked. She had some money, but not five hundred pounds!

  “What we need is a highly controlled apparatus which examines the upper body. Your grandmother’s pain centers mainly in this area,” he said patting his chest. “This isn’t my first concern, however.”

  “What…is your first concern?” Ally asked, her mind still reeling with the amount needed. Where in heaven was she to get all of that?

  “Even if we had the funds, items arriving from the Continent may take a few months. By then, your grandmother might-”

  “I understand.” She did not want him to finish informing what she feared most.

  “For the time being, I wish your grandmother to remain here so I may keep a closer eye on her. I have used a few old remedies that seemed to have worked to relieve her pains, if only for short periods of time. I’ve tried blood-letting, but that didn’t seem to work, so I am giving her what my apothecary can offer.”

  “Yes. Please, help her ease her pain.”

  He nodded. “Go home, child. You may return on the morrow.”

  “May I stay? Please?”

  Dr. Reeves sighed in discouragement. “If you want your grandmother to be strong again, you must be strong as well. Now, I advise you get some rest and come back on the morrow. Your grandmother might be awake to chat this time. Go on, child.” His sad eyes didn’t help Ally control her tears. She knew if he offered any more words of comfort, she’d turn into a watering pot.

  “I’ll come back in the morning.”

  In a daze, Ally wandered until she came to a wooden bench outside of the hospital and sat, pondering how much her life had changed over the past seven years.

  When she’d first arrived in England at the age of twelve, accompanied by a paid companion, Ally had loved her grandmother straightaway. Nana had crooned and kissed her, while she sobbed every night from the sudden loss of both parents. Her grandmother always showed her how much she delighted in having her near, making Ally content as she settled into the new country, forgetting all about America.

  Lowering her head, she prayed. Aloud. There had to be something she could do.

  ***

  Michael led his horse to the base of the ravine that led to Dartford, anticipating a raucous momentum. As he prepared to change his grip on the reins, Caspian tugged at the bit to go faster, its muscles straining between Michael’s legs.

  Laughing, he stroked the animal’s dark mane. “Impatient, are we?”

  The horse’s nostrils flared.

  Digging his knees into its flanks and giving the reins a flick of his wrists, Michael led his thoroughbred on a full gallop, where the wind whipped wildly against his face. He grinned and rode harder when the animal snorted with excitement, its hooves rattling against the earth, hoisting up dust. The trouncing pounded in tempo with his racing heart.

  After the journey, where he’d only stopped once to water Caspian, Michael slid off and stretched his numbing legs and aching back. He pulled out his pocket watch, pleased with the travel time. Only three hours had passed while he rode past the countless taverns and inns to finally reach the countryside. Securing the reins to a branch, he glanced toward Miss Overton’s door.

  He trusted today’s transaction with Victor’s love interest would be another effortless one. Michael had yet to encounter a woman with more adoration for his brother than for the weight of his coin purse. The moment that opportunity presented itself, he’d gladly make that young woman his sister-in-law, and she’d never want for anything. Miss Overton was unacceptable, of course, for she gave her favors rather generously. A wanton sort, this one.

  He strolled to the door, each step purposeful, and tampered down a galling flicker of eagerness. Eagerness? Bloody hell! Eager for what? He scowled until he reached the last steps of the stairs. He rapped on the door. The impatience he felt was probably due to his anticipation to bring this unnecessary ordeal to an end so he might focus on more significant endeavors, such as his dealings in trade.

  The entry door opened, and Michael quickly shielded his surprise. A tall, reed-thin maid with gangly arms and a lengthy, skinny stretch of neck appeared before him. Her eyes protruded in their sockets when she looked him over from his head down to his polished Hessian boots.

  “Milord, perhaps you have the wrong residence?”

  “I don’t believe I do. I’m here to speak to your mistress.”

  “Miss Overton?”

  She looked at him suspiciously as if she’d never seen the likes of him sniffing at her mistress’ heels. He stopped himself from grunting, instead, gave her a stiff nod. At that, she bristled with a cheeky smile that would surely make his butler suffer an apoplectic fit.

  “Won’t you come in, milord? I’ll fetch her in a trice.”

  Michael entered through the small, low-ceilinged hall and followed her to a drawing room where she rushed off to do his bidding. Her nasal squeals were heard through the narrow corridors. “Miss Overton, there’s a gentleman here to see you!” An apoplectic fit indeed.

  He sauntered toward the wooden mantel above the empty hearth when a perfectly aligned row of small miniatures beckoned. Of the three, one middle-aged man with gray eyes stared back at him, unsmiling. The other two portraits were of women with blue eyes, which he assumed must be closely related to Miss Overton. Though the color eyes of these women resembled that of Miss Overton’s, the shade of Miss Overton’s was a smidgen darker- more absorbing.

  Michael turned on his heels, bothered by the course of his thoughts.

  A fawn-colored settee strewn with gold and green stitched pillows in the middle of the room caught his attention. It looked comfortable enough to sleep on right about now. Maybe he was too exhausted. When was the last time he had five hours of sleep in one night? He couldn’t remember.

  Dragging a hand through his hair, he strode to the window to gaze out. Caspian remained restful in place, only swishing his tail to and fro. Good ol’ horse. Had more people obeyed him the way his stallion did-

  “Sir?”

  Michael spun around to the voice behind him. He held his breath. It was hard to maintain a semblance of control when a woman looked like that. She was too pretty.

  She shouldn’t be hidden here in the countryside. She ought to be in glittering ballrooms, showing off her beauty to jealous debutantes. She ought to be a nobleman’s wife, attending balls and soirées, taking tea with duchesses, shopping on Bond Street with countesses. She shouldn’t be whoring around with various men from her class. The thought brought a bitter taste to his mouth. And to think Victor wanted to make her his wife!

  “You,” she said pursing her lips. “What do you want?”

  Michael was highly astonished with the animosity in her tone. No one had ever spoken to him in this manner. He took a few more seconds to look her over, not
to mention that he used those few seconds to calm his temper at her impertinence. “It’s simple, really. I’ve come to help make things easier for you…as well as for your dog.”

  The woman had the good grace to blush. He supposed it was due to pure embarrassment from her callous question the day before.

  “Don’t bother yourself, Sir. My life has been quite fine without your help thus far,” she told him, holding her head high.

  But, within a blink, she lowered her chin. Brows knotting above her eyes, and teeth gnawing at her lip, Michael couldn’t tear his gaze from her somber expression. It made him feel a little guilty for categorizing her in the objectionable pack. If she enjoyed the pleasures of men so openly she received them in the light of day, so be it. So as long as his brother wouldn’t try to make her his wife. If Victor had only wanted her in his bed, Michael wouldn’t have interfered.

  He clasped his arms behind his back. “Yesterday, I had made a proposal, and today, I am here to—”

  “Is that what it was, a proposal? It sounded more like an order, if you ask me.” She crossed her arms over her chest and frowned. He wouldn’t have been surprised if she started tapping her foot on the floor.

  “An order then.”

  Her puckered brow intensified.

  He allowed himself a triumphant smirk. It was way too easy to goad her.

  “What is it you want, Sir?” she huffed in indignation, balling her fists at her sides. “I am quite occupied at present.”

  She must have been rather busy before he arrived. Her forearms were covered in something that had to be dirt, and there were dark smudges on her sky blue morning gown as well. “What the devil were you doing?” he asked, suddenly curious.

  Miss Overton followed his gaze and peered down at herself, gasping at the untidy sight he witnessed. Her face reddened, but she still had the bravado to ground out, “That, Sir, is none of your concern.” A hand passed over the muck which plastered to the folds of her dress, quite possibly attempting to brush some of it off, but to no avail. “We’ve established that you and I are not friends from the moment you left yesterday. If you’ll be so kind, you may let yourself out.” She turned, flinging her soiled skirts about her ankles, intent on giving him the cut direct.

  Now, that got Michael’s attention. Never had a man spoken to him on that regard, much less a woman. “Stop right there!”

  Her shoulders tensed a second before she turned. “So, there is a purpose for your unexpected call, after all,” she said, rather too pleasantly. She even presented him a meek smile. Michael suspected she was deliberately trying to prick his temper.

  He unclenched his teeth. “I will disburse you. Handsomely. All I ask is that you keep your distance from Victor.”

  Miss Overton scanned his face as if he had grown horns. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Assets for your absence.”

  Tilting her head to the side, she regarded him with curiosity, her eyes narrowing. “Why?”

  He shrugged. “My motive has naught to do with you, Miss Overton. Do we have a deal?”

  Her pouty lips twitched, as if she were about to say something, which wasn’t a surprise. But then, she amazed him by snapping her mouth closed. Michael didn’t peel his eyes from her face. She turned an unfathomable shade of pink, and he wondered why in God’s name the woman was blushing. She swallowed several times, appearing damned uncomfortable. Good!

  Her shoulders and chest rose with each breath she took. She bent her head toward the ground as if concentrating on a knot in the wooden floor boards. A few tendrils of hair framed her angelic face, causing Michael to feel crude. Perhaps he had been too harsh. She looked a trifle frail standing there twisting her dirt-stained dress with both hands.

  “Very well.” She said breaking the silence as he nearly blurted an apology. “But I…shall state the amount.”

  It was just as he thought. Miss Overton was no different from the rest of Victor’s women: unfeeling and cold. His lips curled. “If it’s reasonable, then, yes.”

  She swallowed again, and then shifted her feet before blurting, “Five hundred pounds.”

  He widened his eyes. “Are you mad?”

  “That is my amount.”

  He glared at her. “That’s preposterous!”

  “That’s final. Else, I’ll keep seeing Mr. Langdon.”

  “Are you blackmailing me?”

  “No, sir, I’m merely presenting my part of the proposal.” She managed to state these words gently and appeared to be so damned proud of herself, even placing a hand to her chest to stress her words.

  Michael stared at her incredulously. She had no heart. Victor hadn’t meant anything to her in the least. His brother, on the other hand, was halfway in love with her, if not completely already. Five hundred pounds to keep his brother away from the selfish chit…he’d do it. “I have stipulations.”

  “What…sort of stipulations?” she asked, clasping her hands until her knuckles turned white.

  “Your maid will tell him you’re not present, no matter what time of day it is. I wish for him to believe you’ve left Dartford.”

  Her face changed severely from calm to alarm in full speed. “Excuse me, sir, but you cannot mean to suggest that I not leave my home?”

  Folding his arms across his chest, he ventured, “For five hundred pounds, I suggest it.”

  “You’re mad! There are those that I must see.”

  “There isn’t any reason why they couldn’t call on you here, just as they have before.”

  It didn’t look as if she’d caught his meaning. She argued, “They can’t! I cannot fulfill this stipulation for you.” She shook her head violently and added, “It won’t work.”

  The way her shoulders slumped made her appear as if she all of a sudden lugged an entire crest of England’s mountains upon them. Her eyes looked distant, troubled. Michael watched without a word as she grabbed a fistful of her skirts in her hands by her side.

  Her tone softer, she said, “This won’t do. If you’ll leave now—”

  “Hold on.” That was asking too much, but it didn’t hurt to try. “Never mind that, but do we have an agreement?”

  Miss Overton lifted her face and cocked her head. “Who is Mr. Langdon to you?”

  “That is none of your concern. I ask that you simply refuse his calls. Do I have your word?” he pressed, annoyed that his gaze kept going to her lips.

  “You have my word.”

  Michael narrowed his eyes.

  She turned her mouth to the side and he swallowed.

  “I will not convince you to believe me,” she said. “But that’s just the chance you’ll have to take. When I make a promise, I keep it. Make what you want of that.”

  At the moment, there really wasn’t a thing he could do but take her word for it. “Here is fifty pounds.” He pulled out both coin purses from his coat pockets and dropped it onto a small table with a loud thump. “It’s all I brought. You see, Miss Overton,” he said, taking one menacing step forward and smirked when she retreated. “It isn’t every day that I come across a woman who demands five hundred pounds.”

  Michael couldn’t understand why she looked uneasy when she’d just glowered at him a mere minute ago. And…hell, it looked like she was about to cry.

  “I’ll send the rest of it on the morrow. Remember, if Victor comes, keep your end of the bargain.”

  He took his leave before the woman began weeping. He never liked it when women cried in his presence. It made him painfully uncomfortable.

  Chapter Three

  “What did you do?” Victor demanded the following afternoon.

  Michael looked up from a jumble of numbers, saw the heat in his brother’s eyes, and went back to balancing his ledger.

  Victor stopped at the end of the desk and flattened his palms on the smooth mahogany finish. “She won’t see me,” he added with intense despair laced in his bright eyes. “I know you did something.”

  “I have no idea of what you speak
.” Michael set the quill down, sat back in his chair, and stretched out his limbs. After a long yawn, he added, “Not a clue. Who won’t see you?”

  “You know who!”

  Michael returned gently, “Maybe she doesn’t feel the same as you do. Have you thought of that? If she truly cared for you, no one could make her go away.”

  “You could!”

  Michael hated it when his brother got like this. He was much too big to be whining. “Stop raising your voice to me, brother. My hearing is sound.”

  “What did you do to Ally?”

  Damn, but his brother was starting to sound like an echo. He sighed. “Perhaps there are places you could go to relieve yourself of some of that anxiety.”

  Instead of taking his excellent advice, his brother went on, practically wailing. “What did you say to her? You probably made her weep, didn’t you?”

  “Victor.” Michael tried not to groan. “Listen to me. That girl does not care a crumb for you, do you not understand?”

  “You don’t know—”

  “I know. Trust me.”

  “Then explain how you came to that conclusion. When we talked at the town’s church, Ally was very attentive and quite delightful. She likes me, I tell you. I would recognize it if she did not.”

  Michael wanted to contradict his brother, but he didn’t wish for Victor to feel inept. “Does she know how deep your pockets are?”

  Victor shook his head and drew his brows, appearing aghast. “I never boasted! On the contrary, Ally isn’t like that, I assure you. She has nary a bad bone in her body,” he said with great conviction.

  Michael rolled his eyes heavenward. He didn’t point out that his brother’s attire, coupled with his great steed, was all the boasting necessary. One couldn’t miss the details. Gentlemen didn’t ride into the countryside dressed the way his brother did, garbed in a fine silk cravat and a velvet coat with polished boots, and not be noticed by anyone that his bank accounts were well heeled.