“I don’t need a rich wife,” he said. “I need a suitable wife.”

She was far from suitable in ways he would never understand. The primary one being that she’d been spying on him, for pity’s sake. “You need an heir.”

He shrugged. “Not right away.” His grin hitched up on one side. “I’m willing to wait and see if we grow more compatible.”

The flush on her cheeks had nothing to do with the fire. “And if we don’t?”

“Then we’ll come to an agreement.” His gaze was steady. “Annabel, I believe we will both benefit from marrying, and I think we will find we have many more things in common. Marriages have been built on weaker foundations.”

She finally sipped her tea to wet her throat. “I have two sisters who will need a Season, not necessarily this one, but next.”

“They can come out with mine this year, and the year after if necessary. We’ll see they’re matched to decent young men.” He paused for a moment, his eyes twinkling. “I’d like your help with that. You are quite the tiger as a chaperone, and the girls are chafing against Mother’s decrees.”

“Thank you. I’d be happy to help, though my sisters may not listen to me.” She blinked to clear the tears from her eyes. “I’d like your word that you won’t pay my father’s debts.”

He nodded but frowned. “Why?”

“He won’t learn his lesson,” she whispered as she stared into the fire. “He’s chased schemes for years, and you’ll be throwing good money after bad.” She met his gaze. “Seasons aren’t cheap, and I won’t take advantage of your generosity.”

“Thank you. But your mother shouldn’t suffer. She’ll have an allowance my solicitor will manage for her. She’ll have enough to keep her in London if she chooses.” He caught his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment. “Forgive me, but you’ll need a wardrobe. My mother’s dressmaker should be willing to fit you quickly.”

Although it stung her pride and her conscience, she would have to look like a marchioness, and she couldn’t afford that on her own. “I’ll be ready.”

“No gray, please. You have enough of that.”

It was her turn to chuckle. “Agreed.” It was easy to do. She hated gray. “One more thing.”

He waited, eyebrows arched.

It was difficult to think, much less say. “I am aware you have at least one mistress.” She put a hand up to stop his interruption. “I’m not asking you to give them up. I’m just asking that you be discreet. The ton will gossip enough as it is.”

He offered his hand. “Is that a yes, then, Annabel?”

She slid her fingers into his large, warm palm. “Yes, Lord Ramsbury.”

“Jasper.” His breath was hot on her skin as he brushed his lips across her knuckles.

“As you wish.” Annabel’s heart thudded against her ribs. “Jasper.”

Chapter Eight

“You send me to Cardiff and get married while I’m gone?” Kit pushed himself from the mantel and came back to the desk. “To the woman you caught poking around your bedroom.”

“Don’t loom over me.” Jasper dropped his pen into the ink pot. “It wasn’t my intention.”

“The timing or the wedding?”

“Both.” Jasper blotted the letter to Claudette before folding it with as crisp a crease as possible given the ten-pound notes contained within. “Though I would have waited if I’d known it would put your nose out of joint.”

Kit moved the seal out of reach. “Jasper. Your new wife wants to see you hang.”

“Name a wife in London who doesn’t want to see their husband swing.”

His best friend stood speechless, his face deepening to purple with alarming speed. Jasper finally took pity on him.

“I wouldn’t have married Annabel if I thought she was a danger to my life span or my freedom.” He dropped bits of blue sealing wax into the crucible he’d used since his father’s death. “Or to the queen.”

“So why did you marry her?”

Jasper had been asking himself the same question since he’d left Annabel in her father’s library after their odd betrothal negotiations. He’d gone there intending to apologize and offer to help find her a place somewhere the gossip wouldn’t reach. Then he’d seen Spencer’s carriage near the house and decided, instead, to give her a piece of his mind.

But she’d been in tears, which reminded him of Fiona and the muddle she was still trying to climb free of. The difference was that Fiona’s scandal was based on fact, and her family had money the ton couldn’t ignore. Annabel didn’t. “Fiona tore a strip off me for being a careless, heartless lout.”

“Fiona.” Kit rolled his eyes. “Her redemption is becoming a pain in the arse.”

The phrase took Jasper back to the library, where he’d sworn without thinking and Annabel hadn’t reprimanded him for his manners. Surprisingly, it seemed to put her at ease. There had been something about her honesty and wry humor that had done the same for him, despite her association with Spencer.

“Annabel is the best path toward learning Spencer’s game.”

“You could have simply asked her,” Kit said.

“She wouldn’t have told me.” Jasper didn’t believe she knew. Spencer had proven to be wily prey because he kept his own counsel.

“Everyone has a price, Jasper.”

Annabel’s had been the chance for her sisters to find suitable husbands and an allowance for her mother. He put the wax over the candle. “Her loyalty is not for sale.”

“Goddammit, Jasper.” Kit pushed himself from the chair and ambled to the liquor cabinet. After filling a glass, he stood at the window. The afternoon light spilled over his shoulders and onto his back. “You’ve yoked yourself to someone who depends on your enemy for safety.”

Jasper was wagering that Annabel didn’t depend on Spencer for anything. She was smarter than that. He was hoping vows in a church and keeping his word would buy him the time to win her to his side.

Or his ego was getting the better of him. “Perhaps.”

“You say that the way you did at Eton when you were convinced of your answer, even if it didn’t match the lecture.”

The indigo wax pooled in the crucible. “What did you find in Cardiff?”

“The miners are all whispering about a new company, fronted by Abel Collins.”

“What do we know about him?”

“Da’s known him for years. He’s strong as an ox and as determined as a man has to be to go down a shaft every day and come out black inside and out. And the word is that you’d rather have him on your side in a fight. But Da has never trusted him. He definitely has a price.”

“Do you know what he’s doing?”

“Not yet,” Kit said. “Everyone whispers, but there’s nothing solid. What I do know is that he’s got a pub he favors and a table in the corner that’s always full of foremen and shift leaders. He always picks up the tab.”