Page 12 of Every Rake Has A Silver Lining

She asked for direct, so he delivered. “Do you mean, would I expect sex?”

“If you wish to phrase it so crudely.”

He laughed. “If you think that’s crude . . . I have never forced a woman, nor do I intend to start now. I won’t ask for anything you’re not willing to give.”

“So, a business arrangement? You will be expecting a dowry, I presume?”

“Again. To be clear. I don’t expect anything from you, other than your promise to keep my illness from the scandal sheets.”

“Why? It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“No. But my mother doesn’t know, and I want to spare her the worry. Reading those rags is her one weakness.”

“And who precisely is your mother? Some tenant farmer’s wife?”

Another type of heat rushed through his body, not one caused by the fever ravaging him. He rose from the bed. “Now see here. You can insult me all you wish. But never—I meannever—disparage my mother! A kinder soul does not exist. The only women I’ve met who even come close are both duchesses.”

Charlotte’s chin jerked back, and she paled.

Good. She should be sorry.

“However, since you asked. My mother and father live in Wiltshire, where my father owns a prosperous estate.”

“Although my brother’s seat is in Shropshire, he also owns property in Wiltshire.” Several moments later, her eyes widened. “Not Mr. Theodore Beckham of Swindon?”

“The very one. The property is entailed, and I’m the only son. So you see, if my mother learns of my illness, she will hound me even more to marry and produce an heir.”

“Why on earth are you working as a man of business?”

Growing tired of the interrogation, he yawned. “Can we discuss this later? I promise I will give you all the details your heart desires. But right now, I need more quinine and sleep.”

Frampton knocked on the open door. “Sir, I’ve placed Lady Charlotte’s bag in the next room.”

“I was bamming you, Frampton. Please show Lady Charlotte to the last room down the hall where she’ll have privacy.”

“Very good, sir. Might I suggest recalling one of the maids to attend to Lady Charlotte?”

“Could you send for my maid, Frampton?” Charlotte turned toward Simon. “Is that agreeable with you as my future husband?”

“If she can be discreet.”

Charlotte nodded and addressed Frampton. “Tell her we’ll double her wages.”

Simon took a step forward, swayed on his feet, and stopped. “Now, wait just a moment. You’re free with my money.”

“I would presume Burwood would pay her wages for the time being, and he is not a stingy man.”

Ouch.The barb stung just enough.

“And if you wish to pay for her silence . . .”

“Very well.” Simon waved a hand. He needed to lie down.

Frampton bowed and exited.

“Cook should return for supper, if she hasn’t already. We can speak more then about the details of our arrangement.” The towel slipped from his waist, and his initial reaction was to grasp it. Instead, he allowed it to drop to the floor.

Warm satisfaction filled him—or was that still the fever?—when Charlotte’s jaw dropped.

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