Page 5 of Bride of the Fae Duke

Any other day, it would have been a compliment to be singled out … but here, now, Nellie found herself wondering for a moment whether the housekeeper may simply have chosen her as the girl she could most easily do without.

Then again … this was Mrs. Radcliffe, proper and punctual, who had not hesitated to call for the guards even when the Viscount Westmoor had jokingly run off with Lady Eyestone’s jade tiara. If the housekeeper had suspected this man she’d known all his life of murder, would she have quietly stood by as he singled out his next victim right under her nose?

It seemed unlikely.

Truly,everypart of this morning seemed thoroughly unlikely.

‘So …’ She was grasping for sense now. Sweet divines, why couldn’t he simply be the ruthless, sweet-tongued murderer she’d assumed him to be, without his unexpected frankness and Mrs. Radcliffe’s unspoken endorsement? ‘So what did she tell you about me, exactly? I’d like to know what is expected of me.’

‘I asked Radcliffe if she knew any level-headed, pragmatic young women with a proper brain in their skulls,’ Locke said with a short shrug. ‘It wouldn’t do for my wife to collapse into hysterics whenever that blasted curse is mentioned, you see. And of course’ – a hint of that glacial smile lay on his lips again as he glanced at her, forced and measured and wholly devoid of true amusement – ‘if I am to have a son, I would prefer for him not to be a halfwit. Which means his mother shouldn’t be, either.’

So rational. So perfectly calculating. A list of requirements, and since she fulfilled them, he had asked her – how could she possibly disapprove of that approach?

‘I see,’ she said.

And this time, it was true.

The duke must have noticed the change in her demeanour, because something shifted in his face, too, as he ceased his pacing and turned towards her – the most minuscule softening of his broad, chiselled jaw. Before, he had merely been defending his proposal. Now …

Now, they werediscussingit.

She felt like a woman sucked into deadly quicksand. But no matter how hard she tried, she could no longer even remember what steady ground felt like.

‘I do not expect charity from you, Miss Finch,’ Locke added before she could regain her footing – before she could figure out if there evenwasany footing to be regained. ‘When I said I expect to be a means to an end to you, I was entirely sincere. There will be no need to stick with me for all your life. All I need is an heir, and as soon as I have one, I’m happy to settle a generous yearly allowance on you that will allow you to either live comfortably in Elidian or travel elsewhere. If you’d prefer to settle in the Dragon’s Bay cities and pretend to be a rich widow, you would have my full blessing.’

‘You …’ The floor was wobbling in earnest now; she had to take three quick steps and sit down on the edge of the nearest sapphire couch before her knees gave way. The heat was creeping up on her, clouding her mind. Had she heard him correctly? A yearly allowance and her freedom –freedom– and no lye soap burning the skin off her hands ever again? ‘You don’t even expect me to actually … be a wife, then?’

His eyebrows rose a fraction. ‘Apart from the, let us say, necessary duties, no.’

A shivery laugh escaped her before she could stop herself, sounding far too nervous.Necessary duties– for goodness’ sake, was she actually considering this, stepping into a man’s bed to buy her own future? A scandalous, scandalous thought … but scandal, like love and magic, rarely had much to do with facts and far more with fear. So if she looked past the fear and took the facts at face value …

There seemed to be a very decent chance he wouldn’t try to kill her.

Better still, she wouldn’t need to be a true wife to him; if she wanted, she could avoid him around dinner and at the top ofstairs to increase her chances of survival. And even if it turned out he was a terrible lover, even if she spent a few nights staring at a ceiling and composing grocery lists in her mind, would that really be too high a price to pay?

She’d never have to iron a single sheet again. She’d never spend her sleepless nights scrubbing the floors of others again.

And Anne …

Oh, Anne.

‘I have one request,’ she heard herself say.

Was that pushing too far? But Locke merely cocked his head in a wordless question, silky blue hair brushing his solid shoulders – his whole bearing so perfectly aloof, so entirely strait-laced, that nothing human remained below.

‘My little sister,’ she quickly continued before she could lose courage again in the face of that hollow shell of a man. ‘Anne. She was injured in an accident a few years ago – lost her right hand and her ability to work. She relies on me to keep her housed and fed. I would prefer for our marriage contract to also include a clause guaranteeing her a sufficient living in case any harm comes to me.’

The duke’s face didn’t darken – not much, at least. But there was a noticeable tightening to his lips, and he all but snapped his response. ‘You won’t die.’

‘I’m supposed to be pragmatic,’ she countered, realising only then she had forgotten about theYour Gracefor the past two minutes at least. Since he didn’t seem to have noticed yet, she didn’t feel particularly inclined to add the honorific back into the conversation. ‘Even without any curse, I might end up below an ox cart tomorrow. You know how those Kraalian merchants drive these days.’

He stared at her, a small vein pulsing at his temple – trying to figure out, by the look on his face, whether he would bechallenging fate too much by acknowledging the possibility of her untimely demise.

‘You can subtract her allowance from mine, if you like,’ Nellie added, jutting up her chin. ‘I’d spend it on her anyway. You might as well pay it to her directly.’

‘The money is not the issue.’ He drew in a harsh breath, then abruptly turned away and gave a single sharp nod. ‘As you wish, Miss Finch. If –if– anything happens to you, she will be taken care of. I’ll have my solicitor add it to the paperwork.’

She could have cried.

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