Page 21 of The Lyon and the Lamb

“Two hundred sixty guineas.”

“I can see I’ve underestimated my own value. I didn’t know fortune-hunting gentlemen were so highly prized!” His mouth twisted. “Curiously enough, I received an anonymous donation the other day, for exactly half the amount you mention.” Surely, that was no coincidence?

“You think she might have sent it? I can’t imagine why she would have done that. Unless it was her way of meddling, and making sure you sought me out because you imagined it was from me.”

“But she must have known that setting us at loggerheads would not have progressed her matchmaking plan.” Unless it was a salve to her conscience. If Mrs. Dove-Lyon had a conscience . . .

“I know. It’s a puzzle.”

“I’m concerned that you agreed to her methods.” Even though he’d enjoyed every last second.

Araminta tilted her chin at him. “I’m surprised you agreed to them, especially as I can now see how easy it would be for either one of us to fall victim to blackmail. Anyway, I accepted before I fully understood what was expected. By that point, I was in so deep, I couldn’t see how to dig myself out again. Mrs. Dove-Lyon was so very certain she’d found the perfect man for me—she gave me hope. I mean, she couldn’t do a worse job of it than I did myself. I fell in love with Horatio Lamb, didn’t I?”

The bitterness in her voice tugged at his heart. She’d had a rough ride, and he’d been less than sympathetic at the time.

“Did you have any choice regarding the gentleman who was to spend the night with you?” A leading question, and he’d surprised himself by asking it. Was he fishing for compliments?

“I did.” She leaned forward, holding his gaze, her expression earnest. “I genuinely didn’t know it was you though, I swear. There were three men, and you were the least foolish of them.”

Rocking back in his chair, he let out a hearty laugh. “Now I know what is meant by being damned with faint praise!”

“I’m only telling you the truth.”

“Of course.” He twirled his ring, but when her eyes were drawn to the movement, he forced himself to stop. “So—now we both know where we stand. Your funds would be extremely useful to me in keeping the Foundlings’ Hospital afloat since I can’t put any more of the Aylsham money into it without selling the land that’s vital to the estate’s income. I can—I hope—be useful to you since we both know I’m capable of fathering a child.”

What he’d meant to say died on his lips. What if he’d already fathered a child on her? It wasn’t unheard of for a woman to become enceinte after a single mating. How could he risk Araminta giving birth to his child if he wasn’t married to her? No gentleman worth the name would ever despoil a lady and then abandon her. Mrs. Dove-Lyon had known what she was about.

“I think this was meant to be.” His words came out as a whisper. Heart thundering, he knelt at Araminta’s feet and took her hand in his. “Araminta Lamb, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

She gripped him with both hands and pressed her forehead against his knuckles. He could feel the tension emanating from her—was she about to refuse him? Impossible! It would make a mockery of everything they’d done so far. It would also hurt—far more than he could have believed.

“There’s one more thing you need to know, Leo. If you marry me, and if I have a child, it must be given up into foster care immediately. Only that way can I retain control of Forty Hall and its income.”

“What? Why?” Agony sliced through him. How could he let any child of his be taken away?

“My husband was determined that his heir would not be mollycoddled or smothered by affection. He felt it was character-forming to avoid such emotions—I imagine he thought I would be too loving a mother.”

“There’s no such thing.” Leo’s mind was in a whirl. He’d have no time to spend with his child, all because a drunkard had written up the last will and testament of a heartless villain? Elinora’s image swam before him, and he remembered the vivid joy on her face when she’d found herself with child.

He could feel Araminta’s gaze on him, heard her shallow breathing, and sensed her alarm at his silence. He’d already made his offer, despite not knowing all the circumstances—he’d hate himself were he to take it back. The past was done with. The future must always hold hope, otherwise, what was the point of continuing to exist?

“I’m sure we can work something out. Together. Lord Lamb’s will may not be as immutable as you believe.” He hoped he’d kept the doubt out of his voice.

Araminta let out a sob.

“No! It’s impossible. I can’t do that to you—not after all you’ve lost. I’ve made the most dreadful mistake. Don’t follow me, I beg of you—we must never meet again. I’m so very, very sorry!”

Tearing her hand from his, she rushed from the room.

Chapter Ten

Any other gentleman would have realized that Araminta was doing him a favor by fleeing. But if the expression on Lord Aylsham’s face was anything to go by, he was utterly disgusted. Or suffering from wounded pride. No matter. He’d get over this whole dreadful affair quicker than she would. Brushing the tears from her eyes, she glanced over her shoulder to see if he was following her. Correction—to make sure he wasn’t following her.

There was no one there. Well, she couldn’t blame him. No gentleman of his standing was going to chase out into the street after a woman, particularly not when the building he was exiting was the notorious Lyon’s Den. Suddenly recalling her own situation, she flipped her veil down. There was no point in risking a scandal.

Yes, he should be grateful that she’d rebuffed him. He wouldn’t want to give up a child any more than she would—she’d seen how much he enjoyed the company of the children at the Foundlings’ Hospital. He cared deeply about them and about the enterprise. It wasn’t just that he’d inherited it from his mama—it was close to his heart, something Araminta understood even better now she knew he’d lost a child of his own.

How could she do that to him, despite his noble protestations that he could deal with it, or find a way around it? Even if he had turned out to be just as detestable as she’d originally believed, he didn’t deserve to be inveigled into a marriage where he’d be deprived of his own child.