Page 10 of Where Dreams Begin

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“I estimate that I'll need your help for approximately a year,” he said. “We could draw up a contract to our mutual satisfaction. If you dislike working for me—if you find that for any reason you want to end the arrangement—just say the word, and you can leave with half the amount I'm offering.”

“And how much is that?” Holly heard herself ask, her mind buzzing with agitated thoughts. She was unbearably curious to know what he thought her services were worth.

“Ten thousand pounds. For one year's employment.”

A sum at leas

t a thousand times more than a governess made in a year. It was a fortune, enough for a generous dowry for her daughter, enough for a private house, including servants. The thought of having her own home made Holly nearly dizzy with longing. But the idea of involving herself closely with this man, and the reaction of her family and friends…

“No,” she said quietly, nearly choking on the word. “I am sorry, Mr. Bronson. Your offer is very generous, but you must find someone else.”

He did not seem at all surprised by her refusal. “Twenty thousand, then,” he said, and flashed her a roguish smile. “Come, Lady Holland. Don't tell me you're planning to return to the Taylor family and spend the rest of your life as you've spent the last three years. You're an intelligent woman—you need more than needlework and gossip to sustain you.”

Unerringly he had hit upon another vulnerable point. Life with the Taylors had indeed become monotonous, and the thought of no longer being dependent on them…on anyone…Holly twisted her hands together tightly.

Bronson rested his weight on one leg and braced his knee against the bench. “Just say yes, and I'll have the money placed in trust for Rose. She'll never want for anything. And when she marries a peer, I'll throw in a carriage and a team of four for her wedding present.”

Accepting his offer would be a step into the unknown. If Holly said no, she knew exactly what kind of life she and Rose would have. A safe one, if not always comfortable. They would manage well enough, and they would bask in the love and approval of everyone they knew. If she said yes, there would be an uproar of surprise and condemnation. There would be ugly comments and rumors that would take years to die down, if ever. But what a future Rose would have! And there was something inside Holly, something reckless and wild, the same terrible impulsiveness she had been struggling with ever since her husband's death.

Abruptly she lost the struggle.

“I would do it for thirty thousand,” she said, listening to her own voice as if she somehow stood outside the scene.

Although Bronson's expression did not change, she sensed his tremendous satisfaction, like that of a lion settling down to enjoy his kill. “Thirty,” he repeated, as if the figure were outrageous. “I think twenty is sufficient for what I'm asking, don't you?”

“Twenty for Rose, ten for me,” Holly replied, her voice growing steadier. “Social influence is like currency—once expended, it is not easily regained. I may not have much left after this year is through. If I accept your offer, the ton will gossip and spread rumors about me. They may even imply that I am your…”

“Mistress,” he supplied softly. “But they would be wrong, wouldn't they?”

She colored and continued in a rush. “No one in the ton can distinguish rumor from fact. Therefore, the loss of my respectability is worth an additional ten thousand pounds. And I—I want you to invest it and manage it for me.”

Bronson's dark brows raised slightly. “You want me to manage your money?” he repeated, practically purring. “And not Lord Taylor?”

Holly shook her head, thinking of William, who was responsible but extremely conservative with investments. Like most men of his station, William's talent was to conserve funds, not to multiply them. “I would prefer you to take care of it,” she said. “The only condition is that I don't want you to make any investments that could be considered immoral.”

“I'll see what I can do,” Bronson said gravely, laughter dancing in his devil-black eyes.

Holly took a deep breath. “Then you agree to thirty? And if I leave your employment early, I may retain half?”

“Agreed. However, in return for the extra money you're demanding, I'm going to ask for a concession.”

“Oh?” she asked warily.

“I want you to live here. With me and my family.”

Holly stared at him in amazement. “No. I couldn't.”

“You and Rose will have your own suite of rooms, a carriage and horses provided for your exclusive use and the freedom to come and go as you choose. Bring your own servants, if you wish. I'll take care of their salaries for the next year.”

“I don't see why it is necessary—”

“Teaching the Bronsons to behave like gentlefolk is going to require more than a few paltry hours a day. Once you get to know us, you'll have no doubt of it.”

“Mr. Bronson, I just couldn't—”

“You can have your thirty thousand, Lady Holland. But you'll have to move away from the Taylors to get it.”

“I would rather take less and not live here.”


Tags: Lisa Kleypas Historical