“Can’t I do both?” she asked.
He nodded, but the gesture didn’t hold any enthusiasm. “It doesn’t matter,” he finally said. “Without my father’s money—money I earned for him, I might add—we cannot accomplish what I planned.” He blew out a breath. “Worse, I believe he will invest it with Isabelle, but she cannot make that successful without me. I’m the one who would do the work to make the locks profitable again.”
“And so you are once more under her thumb.”
He nodded, then he abruptly frowned and straightened to look at her. “I never told you I wished to be out from under Isabelle’s control.”
“It was a logical conclusion. No man risks everything on a gambit like this unless he finds his current situation intolerable.”
“Many men risk fortunes on the turn of a card or a roll of the dice.”
“Yes, but you are not a gambler. Not in the normal way. And yet you are putting everything you can into making your flower popular.” She arched a brow. “If you are not normally a gambler, then you must find Aunt Isabelle intolerable.”
“I do,” he said softly.
“Why?”
“Because what she wants is control. Not just of the business, but of the people who work for her, myself included. It is not healthy for anyone.”
No one wanted to be controlled, least of all a man as strong-willed as he. But she could see no way around his difficulties. He had gone over the financials with her in detail in the carriage. She knew how much money he needed just to transport the bulbs to London, store them adequately, and then sell them. And that was after dressing her stylishly in the flowers and making her popular.
It seemed too daunting a task, but it was clear he believed he could do it. And she believed him. Which made her next statement logical.
“There is enough money in my full dowry to cover what you need.”
She felt his entire body recoil from her. “I will not marry you for your money!” he said, every word sounding strangled out of him.
That wasn’t what she meant. Even so, it was lowering to feel how very much he hated the idea of marrying her. He’d practically leaped out of the gig rather than sit beside her.
“Besides,” he growled, “we are doing this so that you don’t have to get married.”
“I thought we were doing this so you could launch your sisters.”
“That, too.”
They were silent for a long moment while the air seemed laden with his anger. She had to make it clear to him that she hadn’t meant marriage.
“I’m of age, aren’t I?” she said in a low voice. “I’m on the shelf with no intention of marrying.”
He turned to look at her, his expression tight. “Yes?”
He phrased the word as a question, but she didn’t know what he was asking, so she ignored it. “When do I get my dowry for myself? Don’t ladies who never marry live off their property?”
“It depends,” he said slowly, “on the terms of the will.”
She nodded. “I will press Elliott again. We can still go on as you intended, but with my money and not your family’s.”
“I will not take your dowry. Not without marrying you.”
“Why not?” She twisted to look at him more closely. “As I said before, I have not risked so very much. If you believe in the plan enough to risk your entire family’s fortune, then why can’t I risk my dowry?”
“For one thing,” he growled, “your brother will have me drawn and quartered.”
“My brother cannot control what I do with my money.”
“A nice thought in the abstract, but Elliott will not let you have it.”
“But that is just the point. It is my money. He cannot—”