Improperly Wed (Aristocratic Grooms #3)(18)
Author: Anna DePalo

Belinda felt her face heat but stood her ground.

She’d learned a few things during her years as an art specialist. One of them was to start bargaining by asking for more than one could possibly hope to get. It was up to him to make a counteroffer.

“And more than that,” Colin continued, “what assurance do I receive that you won’t go running off to Vegas for a dissolution the moment that I do sign the properties over to you?”

“You have my pledge.”

Colin laughed. “You’re delectable, but you are a Wentworth.”

Belinda ignored how her pulse skittered and skated over the word delectable. “And you’re a Granville.”

“It does come down to that, doesn’t it?”

She shot him a distinctly unamused look.

“I’ll suggest a compromise.”

“Oh?” Here it comes.

“Yes,” he continued. “I’ll sign the properties over to you one by one on a schedule. The longer we’re married, the more you receive if we divorce.”

Belinda felt a sense of relief wash over her. Colin was suggesting exactly what her uncle had in London three days ago.

Still, it rankled that the two men had pigeonholed her—and that they thought alike.

She had to admit, however, that the plan made a crazy sort of sense. After all, given her preference, she’d get an annulment or divorce tomorrow, while Colin wouldn’t. This way, they got a marriage for some indefinite duration—not for forever, but on the other hand, not over tomorrow.

“One property every six months,” she said, forcing herself to put down the demand without blinking.

To her surprise, Colin didn’t blink, either. But then, she thought, he was a seasoned gambler.

Finally, he lifted the side of his mouth. “You’re a good negotiator.”

“I appraise and auction artwork for a living.”

He inclined his head. “We’re alike in that way, I suppose. We’re both skilled in the art of the deal.”

She didn’t want to discover she had one more thing in common with him. They already had too much.

“You haven’t said whether you agree to my terms,” she reminded him.

He tilted his head. “One year for each, and at the end of two, both the Mayfair town house and the Berkshire estate are yours.”

She opened her mouth to protest. Two years?

And yet, she acknowledged, it was a rather fair offer. Two years would still leave her plenty of time to get on with her life after her marriage was officially over.

“Agreed.” Still, she perversely pushed the envelope. “And what’s to prevent me from divorcing you at the end?”

Colin smiled enigmatically. “Perhaps I’m banking on the fact that you won’t want to.”

He surprised her by departing from the script that she’d been preparing for ever since her conversation with her uncle. He was supposed to say that he was trying to repair the blow to his ego and remove the taint on his name. She, in return, was supposed to be in the position of disdaining his shallow motives.

Instead, his bravado took her breath away.

“The position of marchioness comes with benefits,” he said in a low, seductive voice. “Estates, cars, travel…”

“I’ve seen plenty of money and fame. I come across it regularly as part of my job at Lansing’s.”

He shrugged, easy and self-assured. “What else can I tempt you with?”

“I’m surprised you didn’t put yourself at the top of the list,” she challenged.

Colin laughed. “Okay, me.”

Good Lord. She hadn’t done a good job of resisting him for one night three years ago in Vegas. How was she going to erect a wall against him for the long haul?

Colin was suddenly looking at her with a renewed intensity. “It was good, wasn’t it? We were good.”

“I was out of my mind—”

“With passion, don’t deny it.”

“I’d had a couple of drinks—”

“One Kamikaze?” he queried.

“The name says it all. And don’t forget most of a Sex on the Beach.”

He waved away her response. “It was hours earlier.”

“They created a nice buzz.”

Colin smiled. “It wasn’t sex on the beach, but it was close, wasn’t it? There was the scent of sun and surf. Then I realized it was you.”

She resisted putting her hands over her ears. “Don’t remind me!”

She’d never worn that perfume again. It carried too many memories.

She wasn’t sure whether to take him seriously. He would say anything to win, except she wasn’t quite sure what the endgame was.

“Why are you doing this?” she blurted.

She’d demanded an answer to that question before, but this time it was a metaphorical stamping of the foot.

“Perhaps I enjoy the challenge of going where no Granville has gone before.”

“Straight to hell?” she asked sweetly.

Colin laughed.

“One of your villainous ancestors seduced a Wentworth heiress,” she reminded him.

“Seduction—is that what she claimed?” he scoffed. “More likely, she had fallen for the handsome lad before her family packed her off to God knows where.”

“Of course that story would be the Granville version.”

“Sad to say, the poor lad ultimately didn’t get a chance to marry her. I’ve accomplished what no Granville has before.”

“It’ll be a Pyrrhic victory.”

Colin smiled. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

Belinda felt his words like a caress.

He suddenly straightened and then walked over to a nearby console table.

No doubt the table was an original eighteenth-century piece, Belinda thought with bemusement. The Granville wealth dwarfed the Wentworths’ and probably had as well in her ancestors’ heyday. She admired now the strength of her forebears in standing up to—some would say, running afoul of—the highest-ranking nobility in the vicinity.

Colin slid open a drawer and withdrew a small velvet pouch. Then he crossed to her.

Belinda found herself holding her breath as Colin loosened the pouch by its drawstring and then neatly deposit its contents into the palm of his hand.

She widened her eyes. He held two simple gold bands, one a large plain one with a slight groove at the edges and the other a smaller one etched with a feminine pattern.

They’d picked those rings out together just before their Vegas wedding ceremony.