She sensed Gavin Stone could be courteous and charming when it suited him—as it did now—but a latent and dangerous power seemed to lurk behind his measured words and smiles. He naturally wanted his bequest and she was the obstacle preventing him having it. Was Gavin Stone capable of resorting to devilry to get his money?
An anxious breath filled her lungs. She had earlier settled on an idea that seemed a very fair compromise. It was a simple plan, but she’d persevered with it because she recalled Mr Pratt had mentioned Gavin Stone wanted to hasten back to London. To expedite matters he might readily agree to her suggestion and return tomorrow. And that would suit her admirably.
‘I live At Elm Lodge,’ she blurted out. ‘It is part of the estate that you have inherited.’
‘I know.’
Sarah looked at him, hoping he might contribute more conversation. He did not. ‘I hope you will not deem it an impertinence,’ she quickly continued, ‘but I have thought of a compromise that might benefit us both.’
A slight rise of his dark brows was not the encouragement she had hoped for, but did indicate that he was willing to listen to her idea.
‘As you know, your brother resided at Willowdene Manor where there are plentiful staff. I have lived alone at the Lodge for three years and have just two servants who live out. Mr and Mrs Jackson help with cooking and gardening and so on. They have taken on other work too and have their own cottage in the village.’
‘No.’
‘You don’t know what I’m going to say,’ Sarah gasped out at that rude interruption.
‘Yes, I do. You’re going to say that you will dispense with their services and act as a housekeeper and gardener at the Lodge to earn the right to stay there.’
So he had known what she was going to say. But then it had hardly been an ingenious plan. ‘Why will you not agree to it?’ Sarah’s demand was harsh with frustration. ‘It will solve everything. You can honestly say to the executors that you are providing for me financially and thus will be able to legally claim your inheritance.’
‘I have every intention of claiming my inheritance,’ Gavin stressed softly. ‘But not like that.’
Chapter Three
‘Why ever not? Is it too simple a plan?’
‘Simple plans are usually the best sort.’
‘Well?’ Sarah prompted, a glimmer of hope brightening her eyes and voice. ‘Are you now persuaded towards it?’
‘No.’
‘To what do you object, sir?’ Sarah demanded, barely suppressing her exasperation.
‘Several things,’ Gavin said. ‘But let us start with the most obvious. If I wanted a housekeeper at Elm Lodge it would be more economic to employ Mrs Jackson.’
‘But Maude cannot help you lay hands on your brother’s fortune,’ Sarah pointed out with a note of triumph. ‘I alone can do that. My employment might be more costly, but also greatly beneficial.’ Whilst willing him to agree to her logic, she came closer to look up expectantly into his darkly rugged features.
Within a moment she could feel heat prickling beneath her cheeks for eyes of cerulean blue were interestedly roving her face, lingering on her mouth. An odd feeling quickened her blood. It disturbed her so profoundly that she took an involuntary step back. If he thought to flatter her into accepting less than was her due, he was to be sorely disappointed. She would never be duped by a philanderer’s artfulness.
He thought he had her measure. Perhaps he did, but she had his, too. Just a short time ago at the will reading he had been incensed and scornful of her. How different he seemed now he’d had time to reason that a gallant might do better than a tyrant. However much he was tempted to curse her to hell he needed her cooperation just as she needed his.
‘I only want a small living allowance of fifty pounds per annum,’ Sarah briskly informed him and peeked from beneath twin fans of dusky lashes to see what reaction that demand provoked. She could discern no change in his demeanour. He remained resting against the barn, indolently watching her.
She suspected he must eventually agree to her suggestion. There was too much at stake to reject a reasonable plan just because she’d been the one to voice it. If he wanted to puff up his ego by quibbling and driving a hard bargain, she was not about to indulge him.
‘Why will you not agree?’ she taunted him. ‘Do you not want to return to Mr Pratt’s office and tell him you can comply with the terms of your inheritance?’
‘I would be delighted to do just that,’ Gavin drawled. ‘I imagine my bank would also rejoice at the news that they can give up hounding me for loan repayments.’
Sarah was suddenly assailed by a memory of her papa skulking behind drawn curtains when heavily in debt to the bank and in regular receipt of threatening missives. ‘Very well,’ she said calmly. ‘I can tell you are not swayed by that offer. I am prepared to accept a lesser sum of forty pounds per annum just so we might both go home.’
A chuckle grazed Gavin’s throat. ‘I take it you don’t play cards?’
‘I do, but not very well. What made you say that?’ she asked sharply, sensitive to being mocked.
‘You have not mastered the art of bluffing, my dear,’ he explained softly. ‘You’ve disclosed your hand far too soon.’
He was laughing at her. Bright spots of colour burned in her cheeks. ‘This is a matter of some gravity, not a silly game,’ she snapped. ‘I would sooner be direct and honest. I can only hope you might be too.’
Gavin bowed his head in humble acknowledgement of being chastised, but humour was still slanting his mouth. ‘In my world, Miss Marchant, gambling is a matter of some gravity and not a silly game. And being direct and honest when the stakes are high is foolish.’
‘And that, sir, is a helpful insight into your character, for which I thank you,’ Sarah retorted primly. ‘It is also another reason for me to want to speedily conclude our business. You may then return to your world and your sophisticated friends in London and leave me in peace.’
That acerbic comment drew to an end Gavin’s comfortably lounging stance. A lithe movement freed his person from planked wood. He strolled closer, his thorough appraisal bringing more blood to sting her cheeks. ‘For a woman who has spent all her adult life as a harlot, you can appear a mite too sanctimonious, my dear.’ Gavin watched as the scarlet stain spread, marring her flawless complexion. ‘It seems Edward took too many liberties with you,’ he continued in a sensual tone. ‘As I see it, the worst by far was forcing false piety down your throat.’
A small hand flew to Sarah’s neck as though that part of her anatomy was under assault. ‘How dare you!’ she finally gasped. ‘How dare you speak to me like that.’ She gritted through small pearly teeth, ‘Your brother always treated me with respect. He was a decent man. He was kind.’
‘Kind?’ Gavin echoed sardonically. ‘Was it kind of him to leave you to the tender mercy of a brother he’d slander as a reprobate?’
Sarah visibly winced at that. She had asked herself the same question many times since she’d bolted from the solicitor’s office. If Edward had cared even a little for her, it was indeed hard to understand why he would put her future security in the hands of a man he’d described as a rake and a wastrel.
‘Why do you think he did that?’ Gavin asked abruptly.
‘I’m sure he…I don’t know…Edward was gravely ill,’ she stuttered out, aware she was under intense scrutiny from narrowed blue eyes. ‘The smallpox left him often delirious.’
‘His doctor and