"Will you join me in a brandy, Matthew?" he said without looking up. Seven days later, Matthew returned to the duke's country house in France and was shown out onto a wide veranda where Westmoreland was seated at an ornamental iron table, working on some papers, his back to the panoramic view. Since Whitney had such a low opinion of the nobility-and dukes in particular-Clayton began to wonder if it might be wise to keep not only the arrangement with her father, but his identity as well, a secret from her until he had won her over. And the moment the newspapers discovered he was living in a remote country shire, the conjecture over what he was doing there would create a furor, and the villagers would watch every move he made with fanatical curiosity, particularly when he began to pay attention to Whitney. He rather fancied the idea of a charming country courtship, but how could he manage that with everyone bowing and scraping and cautiously keeping their distance. Then too, there was the added complication of his identity and the personal notoriety that went with it. And he didn't want to do battle with her, he wanted to make love to her. Clayton's instincts warned him that if Whitney were ever forced into the position of opposing him, she could become a very determined young adversary. What did concern him was the reported dissension between Whitney and her father-there was a small chance that if she learned of the arrangements to soon, she might rebel against it merely to defy Martin Stone. Not for one moment did Clayton think Martin Stone would refuse his offer, nor did he have the slightest doubt of his own ability to lure Whitney into his arms. That being the case, he decided to have Whitney's father summon her back to England as soon as his signature was on the documents and the money had changed hands. Since the Stone estate was only seven hours from the city, he could manage his business and his courtship very nicely from somewhere near her home. In order to manage his business affairs, he needed to be closer to London. Besides, he'd been away from England too long already. That he would not do for any woman, even Miss Stone. He wanted Whitney, and he wanted her immediately, but he'd be damned if he'd court her in France, standing in line, playing the fop and bowing like an ass. Already he was impatient to have everything completed. Nevertheless, when his grace began to dictate the terms under which a staggering sum of money was being offered to Martin Stone, Matthew raised his head and gaped in astonishment at the duke.Ĭlayton stood at the windows, absently watching the coach bearing Matthew Bennett back to Paris make its winding way down the hillside. "He'll accept it."ĭespite his nervousness today, Matthew was a respected legal advisor who had schooled himself never to show any emotion when dealing with delicate matters of a client. The Westmoreland brow quirked in sardonic amusement.
"If Stone accepts it," Matthew corrected automatically.
"I will need some documents prepared, and there will have to be a transfer of a considerable amount of money when Stone accepts my offer."
His mind made up, he turned and strode briskly to the desk. She would never bore him as other women had he knew it with the wisdom born of years of experience with the fair sex. She was warm and witty and elusive as a damnedīutterfly.
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