Page 58 of The Courtship Dance

Perkins let out a short laugh. “Any man would.”

“That’s absurd,” Francesca told him stiffly. “Rochford is an honorable man.”

“Honor’s got nothing to do with it. ’Tis lust that pulls that cart.”

“You could not possibly understand a man like Rochford.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her. “A man’s a man, for all the fine airs he puts on, I can tell you that.” An ill-humored grin split his face. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking you can bring the man to marry you?”

“Of course not!” Francesca turned and walked away from him.

“Best not be,” he continued. “That one’ll marry for duty and naught else.”

She stopped and turned back, facing him with all the hauteur of which she was capable. “I am well aware of that. I can assure you that I have no intention of trying to ‘bring’ him to marry me. Nor do I have any intention of discussing my personal life with you.”

“All right, then. Let’s talk business. Do you have my money?” He crossed his arms and waited, looking at her.

Francesca, gazing back at him, felt her momentary anger drain out of her, leaving only the apprehension than had been haunting her for the past two and a half weeks. She took a step forward even though it felt more comfortable to be standing several feet away from the man. She suspected that it was important, as it was with an animal, not to let Perkins see that she was afraid.

“I—” Her voice was shaky, and she stopped, beginning again, injecting some iron into her words. The moment was upon her, and she had to try to save her house.

She started again. “I have a proposition for you.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“DO YOU?” He leered. “And what might that be?”

“I am prepared to pay you a sum of money today—two hundred pounds, say.” Now that she had started, Francesca felt calmer. She had thought about it a great deal, and this, she had decided, was her best hope. “The money will be above and beyond the debt you claim my late husband owed you. In return, you will give me a reasonable time in which to raise the whole amount.”

“Will I? And just what is ‘a reasonable time’?”

“Six months.”

“Six months? You ask me to wait for six months to take possession of a house that is rightfully mine? My lady, I think you overestimate your powers of persuasion.” He rose to his feet.

“You cannot lose,” Francesca assured him quickly. “If I am unable to raise the money, you will keep the two hundred pounds.” Of course, she did not tell him that she had not raised the whole £200 yet. If he agreed, she would have to sell her team and carriage to reach that amount.

“And if I am able to pay you the five thousand pounds in six months, you will get two hundred more than you asked for,” she went on. “If you will but think about it, I believe you will see the advantages for you.”

“So you are saying that I should let you live in the house free for six months.” Perkins sauntered toward her.

Francesca faced him, refusing to retreat. “Hardly free. It seems to me that two hundred pounds is a very sizable rent for that period of time. And you would not have to face the trouble and expense of taking me to court. You must be aware that it will not be as easy as you said to take my home from me in court.”

“Just how do you intend to raise the money in six months if you cannot raise it now?” he asked. “What do you think you will do—sell the house? I can sell it as soon as I take possession—and get the entire price, not just the debt your husband acquired. Why should I let you do it?”

“Because what you are doing is reprehensible!” Francesca shot back. “To take my home because of some foolish bet my husband made years ago!”

“Reprehensible, am I?” His mouth curved up again in his cocky sneer. “Seems you’ve always thought poorly of me. You never liked me dirtying your house, did you? You looked down on me from the moment I walked in the door. I wasn’t good enough for your husband.”

He was close enough now that she could again smell the alcohol on his breath, but Francesca continued to stand her ground, carefully schooling her face.

“You encouraged Andrew in his follies,” she told him. “I never said that he was superior to you.”

“You didn’t have to say it. I could see it in your face. His, too. He was a Haughston, family came over with the Conqueror, but I was just some squire’s youngest son. Well, my birth was as good as any.”

“It was not your birth that I objected to. It was what you chose to do with your life.”

“I was no worse than your esteemed husband.”