The corner of his mouth quirked at that. “I will endeavor not to be.”
“What is your age, sir?”
“Two and thirty. And you?”
“Four and twenty.”
“Were you ever presented?”
She held his gaze, waiting for the inevitable judgment. “I was not.”
“Why?”
“My mother died when I was young, and my father decided against taking me to London. As I understand it, the expense would have been too great.” Before she could help herself, she added, “He preferred to lose his fortune on less-worthy pursuits.”
“I see. How do you feel about the prospect of a Season or two in London?”
“Rather pointless if I am either married or penniless.”
Another of those almost-smiles touched his mouth, but it fell almost immediately. “Let me be plain. My primary reason for seeking a wife is for the sake of my sister.” The mask dangled loosely in his fingers. Now that he had taken it off, he seemed to have no desire to put it back on, and the longer Christiana gazed at his scars, the less terrible they seemed. “Next year, she will need to be launched into Society, and for rather obvious reasons, I am not the best person for the task. That will be my wife’s primary duty, other than overseeing my household. I hold no social engagements.”
Well, that sounded… unexpectedly ideal. “Oh,” she said.
His one good brow descended over his face. “There is one other thing. I have no expectations of intimacy, but I require my wife to be able to look at me without disgust.”
Unwilling pity tugged at Christiana’s heart. She had been an outcast enough to know how unpleasant it felt to be judged by everyone around her. If it had not been for Laura, school would have been an utterly miserable place.
“If I were to agree,” she said, looking over his ruined face with quiet contemplation, “what would you offer in exchange?”
“In what manner?”
“I have been living in isolation for a long time. What is your fortune?”
“Considerable.”
“My father is likely to amass more debts before his death,” she said, deciding bluntness would be preferable to prevarication. “And he is equally likely to lose my childhood home in the process.”
“What do you wish from me?”
“To buy the property.” She folded her arms. “I have a particular fondness for that part of the world, and I think it’s a shame that my father could ruin it with his poor management.”
The duke studied her face for a long moment. “That is your only requirement?”
“It is.” She could hardly believe she was considering going ahead with this. But what were her options? Mrs. Dove-Lyon seemed unwilling to allow her to gamble back the debts—and knowing the illustrious matchmaker, she could ensure that Christiana found it impossible to win, no matter her skill.
Her father would turn her out the instant she returned home husbandless.
And the duke seemed reasonable. Kind, even. First impressions could be deceiving, but she had imagined far worse.
“Once I have upheld my duty to your sister, I would like to retire there,” she said. “That is my reason for wanting my father’s estate for my own.”
The duke took a long moment to nod, and she feared her terms might provoke him to change his mind. But after that pause, he dipped his chin. “So be it. But you must reside with me, or in London, until my sister finds a husband.”
“Of course.”
“Then do we have a deal?” he asked, coming closer and extending a gloved hand. After the barest hesitation, she took it.
“We have a deal.”