“Release me from the contract and I will make certain Papa pays you every penny from the estate.”
“No. Jilt me and you will be ruined, your father and sister with you.”
“But why?” Lottie was puzzled.
“Because I need an heir. One woman is as good as another in the dark. Your father owes me and you chose to deceive me. You will keep your part of the bargain whether you wish it or not.”
Tears were stinging behind her eyes, but Lottie refused to let them fall.
“Have it your own way, sir. You hold all the cards it seems but you may come to regret this…” She walked past him and this time he let her go.
Bartered Bride
Harlequin>® Historical #303—March 2011
Available from Harlequin>® Historical and ANNE HERRIES
>*A Knight of Honor #184
>*Her Knight Protector #188
>**Lady in Waiting #202
>**The Adventurer’s Wife #208
>††Forbidden Lady #209
>†An Improper Companion #227
>††The Lord’s Forced Bride #231
>†A Wealthy Widow #235
>†A Worthy Gentleman #243
>††Her Dark and Dangerous Lord #249
>‡Marianne and the Marquis #258
>‡Married by Christmas #261
>‡Marrying Captain Jack #265
The Unknown Heir #269
Ransom Bride #276
>††Fugitive Countess #279
Bought for the Harem #285
The Homeless Heiress #292
Secret Heiress #297
Bartered Bride #303
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Nicolas, Marquis of Rothsay, nine and twenty, tall, strong, handsome, and known to most of society as a cold heartless rake, looked helplessly at the diminutive lady before him. Henrietta, Countess Selby, might reach no higher than his shoulder in her heels but she was the only person he would heed, the only person he truly cared for in the world—and, he sometimes thought, the only person who cared two hoots for him.
‘Marry to get an heir, dearest Henri?’ he murmured, looking at his godmother with a sceptical expression. ‘Who do you suppose would have me? The matchmaking mamas take one look and stay well clear of me for fear I may corrupt their little darlings.’
‘More fool them,’ Henrietta replied, a sparkle in her eye. ‘Besides, it is no such thing. You know very well that there are many young ladies who would be happy to become your wife.’
‘Why, for the sake of my fortune?’
His dark eyes smouldered, a mutinous, brooding expression on lips that could at certain moments be sensual and passionate, but were, these days, more often set in lines of disdain or disappointment. His memory strayed to a woman he had known some years previously, when he was first a green youth on the town.
‘The lady will give you an heir—or more than one to be safe. In return, you will keep her in comfort for the rest of her life. Surely an heir is worth a little effort? You owe it to the family, Nicolas. Also, you should remember your father’s last request. He did not exactly make it a condition of his will, but it was his dying wish that you should provide the estate with an heir. You are in your thirtieth year, dearest, and while I would not suggest you are past your prime, I should hate you to leave things too late.’
‘Should you, dearest Henri?’ Only his beloved godmother would dare to say such a thing to him, and only she could make him smile at the idea that he might soon be past his prime. ‘I suppose Cousin Raymond might be called my heir?’
‘That nincompoop? He has no more brain than a pea-goose and thinks only of his appearance and what is the latest scandalous tale upon the town.’ Henrietta fixed him with a compelling stare. ‘If you will not do it for yourself, then do it for me. Had I to refer to Raymond as the head of the family, I should soon find myself in my grave.’
‘Poor Henri.’ Nicolas smiled affectionately, becoming in that moment a very different man than was known in the clubs and certain drawing rooms in London. ‘Has my cousin been lecturing you on my morals again? He tried to remind me of my duty to the family name recently. I fear I sent him about his business with his tail between his legs.’