Chapter Five

E dmund slept for the first time in what felt like years. Not just dozed off, but slept. More energy raged through him than he ever remembered. So he was more than ready that morning after the opera to suffer another visit from Brewster.

He wondered if his newfound sleep was because of Lola. That created a problem. Of course, he found her beautiful, and he desired her as he'd never desired any woman ever before, but to desire her because he thought she helped him to sleep was a new level of want altogether.

He wasn't sure how to proceed.

As a royal duke, albeit only a distant cousin to the Prince Regent's mother, Edmund held the highest rank among the British peerage, below the members of the royal family. His actions reflected on the nation, and he couldn't risk fathering a bastard and muddling his bloodline. He'd grown up doubting peoples' intentions toward him, so he'd never joined the raucous parties at pubs with his peers at Oxford.

Edmund bit his lip, worried about the flower girl who he'd convinced to remain at his house, chaperoned by his staff, of course, because it had gotten late and, frankly, he didn't want her to go. And that had been before he'd discovered her presence in his home helped him to get the rest he so sorely needed.

"Of course, Marlowe doesn't want to sell the land. It's been in his family for generations. But I need direct access to the sea," Edmund said, facing Brewster in the foyer.

"He wants to meet you face-to-face," Brewster said. "I wouldn't do it."

"Do it anyhow. Tonight. Dinner. Set it up."

"Don't see him alone. He's a feisty old man. If we say the wrong thing, we could lose everything."

" We wouldn't lose everything, I would." Edmund nudged Brewster out the door and slammed it shut with a bang.

"Hullo." Lola appeared bag in hand, back in her patched dress from the previous morning.

Please don't go. "Are you hungry? Why don't you sit and have something to eat?"

She let him take the bag from her and set it on a stool. "Mrs. Kitty is surely waiting for me. I should go back and water the flowers."

"It's supposed to rain."

She raised her eyebrows at the clear blue sky out the window.

"I'll take you back personally after breakfast."

"I have the phaeton and should return it to Mrs. Kitty."

"Then I will accompany you." He led her toward the dining room. "I didn't know what you liked, so I had the cook prepare one of everything."

With a wistful smile, she picked a slice of toast, the most modest piece of food next to coddled eggs, bread pudding, a fruit platter, and sausages. Instead of sitting, however, she picked a piece off the corner of the toast and stuffed it in her mouth, taking a grand tour of the room.

He smiled. She was clueless about how to behave in the presence of a duke. So sweet, natural, and honest, something most people lacked around him because they wanted something from him.

Refreshing. No, better. Mesmerizing.

"Did you sleep?" she asked.

Oh, right, she knew about his insomnia; they'd met at his apothecary. "I fell asleep at my desk for a moment."

Her eyes trailed over the table and landed on his clean plate. "You don't sleep, you don't eat, and you don't go to the opera often. What does a duke do, Edmund?"

"I buy land, employ people, and make money."

"What do you use the land and people for?"

"Wood, mostly. We harvest the wood in Northumberland and then sell it."

She crinkled her nose. "That must make you a lot of money."

He shrugged. "The land I want to buy tonight has lots of old oaks."

"Why don't you use your land instead of letting it go barren?"

"I intend to convert it to farmland, but I need an environmental restoration plan. That, in turn, needs approval by the majority vote in the House of Lords. And to ensure that, I need to show them that… never mind."

"So you just want the trees, then you'll get rid of the land."

"I'll sell it in pieces for development. Roads, villages, ports."

She tilted her head back in understanding, but the way her eyes narrowed, he could tell she didn't like what she'd heard.

Barnie, the butler, appeared. "Your Grace, Mr. Brewster is here."

"Again? What does he want?" Edmund rose and strode to the foyer.

"I set up the dinner with Marlowe but you're making a big mistake going there alone." Brewster puffed from exertion as he entered, sweat rolling down his temples like a hot kettle overboiling. "You should bring a woman, a serious one, to show that you are serious about starting a family and so forth."

"I don't need to be in his good graces; I just need his business."

"And you'll get it if you're in his good graces. Listen, Edmund, I know a lot of good girls from reputable families. And some not so reputable, but he doesn't have to know that."

"No, you don't. And you never think of love." Edmund looked over his shoulder and heard a rustling from the dining room. "Besides, I already have someone in mind."

Brewster stilled as Lola peeked through the door into the foyer. "Who's that?"

"The woman I'll bring to dinner with Marlowe."

*

The short man gave Lola a once-over that instantly made her feel dirty. She didn't want anyone to know that she'd slept at Edmund's house… if her brother came back and her reputation was in shreds, what would he say? He hadn't survived the war to come back to a ruined woman. All of her work would have been in vain.

But the short man left soon enough and she retrieved her bag, ready to go home.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Your Grace." She curtsied.

"Lola, I have a business proposition for you," Edmund said.

That didn't sound good—for her reputation, at least. But she did need money. And Edmund had said he employed people, so perhaps his proposition was above board. At the very least, she could hear him out. "What do you want?"

"I'm going to be in Town until Sunday and I'd like to hire you to be by my side."

Oh, dear. That sounded very bad for her reputation. "I am not for hire," she told him and made to push past him and out the door. "Thank you, Your Grace. The opera was wonderful. I truly appreciate the opportunity. It was the chance of a lifetime and for that, I am grateful."

He stopped her with a hand to her forearm. Little tingles traveled up over her shoulder and to her heart. "I don't mean like that . I need a woman who can pretend to be my fiancée and who can attend a series of boring events with me."

"You want to fool the Ton that you have a fiancée?"

He inclined his head. "There are certain people who believe that without a future wife, I don't appear serious about managing my private life and business. I'll pay you."

Lola shrugged. She didn't pretend to understand the workings of the Ton or its members, so what he said could be true. And, at least, he wasn't asking her to pretend to be his wife.

"How much?"

His eyes sparkled. "As much as you ask."

Even so, it wasn't in her nature to be deceitful. Besides that, she was out of her depth of understanding. She wasn't an aristocrat by any means. As much as she needed the money, it was best that she refuse him. She'd make an outrageous offer, and he'd back up. She could go home and forget she'd ever stepped into his fairytale of a life. "My brother's commission. And my parent's old cottage. Plus, furnishings and warm clothes for the winter."

He nodded.

"And two years' worth of firewood. Cut into sections and stacked."

He nodded again.

"And all the sacks of flowering seeds from a catalog of my choice."

He furrowed his brow. "Only until midnight on Sunday?"

"Deal."