They’d been married so quickly and so efficiently that she barely remembered the ceremony—barely remembered promising to love, comfort, honor, and obey, which was probably for the best, as the love portion of the promise was something of a lie.
He’d married her for land and nothing else.
And it did not matter that he’d touched her and made her feel things she’d never imagined a body could feel. In the end, this was precisely the kind of marriage she’d been raised to have—a marriage of convenience. A marriage of duty. A marriage of propriety.
He’d made that more than clear.
The coach bounced over a particularly uneven bit of road, and Penelope gave a little squeak as she nearly slid off the extravagantly upholstered seat. Regaining her composure, she rearranged herself, planting both of her feet squarely on the floor of the coach and throwing a glance toward Michael, who had not moved, except to open his eyes to slits—presumably to ensure that she had not injured herself.
When he was certain that she was not in need of a surgeon, he closed his eyes once more.
He was ignoring her, his silence easy and utterly off-putting.
He couldn’t even feign interest in her.
Perhaps, if she weren’t so consumed by nervousness at the events of the day, she might have been able to remain quiet herself—to match him silence for silence.
Perhaps.
Penelope would never know, because she was unable to remain silent for a moment longer.
She cleared her throat, as though preparing to make a public statement. He opened his eyes and slid his gaze to her but did not move otherwise. “I think it would be best if we took this time to discuss our plan.”
“Our plan?”
“The plan to ensure that my sisters have a successful season. You do recall your promise?” Her hand moved to the pocket of her traveling dress, where the coin he’d given her two nights earlier weighed heavily against her thigh.
Something she couldn’t recognize played across his face. “I recall the promise.”
“What is the plan?”
He stretched, his legs extending even farther across the coach. “I plan to find husbands for your sisters.”
She blinked. “You mean suitors.”
“If you like. I’ve two men in mind.”
Curiosity flared. “What are they like?”
“Titled.”
“And?” she prompted.
“And in the market for wives.”
He was exasperating. “Do they have sound, husbandly traits?”
“In the sense that they are male and unmarried.”
Her eyes went wide. He was serious. “Those are not the qualities to which I refer.”
“Qualities.”
“The characteristics that make for a good husband.”
“You are expert in the subject, I see.” He dipped his head, mocking her. “Please. Enlighten me.”
She pulled herself up, ticking the items off on her fingers as she went. “Kindness. Generosity. A modicum of good humor—”
“Only a modicum of it? Ill humor on say, Tuesdays and Thursdays would be acceptable?”
Her gaze narrowed. “Good humor,” she repeated before pausing, then adding, “A warm smile.” She couldn’t resist adding, “Though, in your case, I would accept any smile at all.”
He did not smile.
“Do they have these qualities?” she prodded. He did not reply. “Will my sisters like them?”
“I haven’t any idea.”
“Do you like them?”
“Not particularly.”
“You are an obstinate man.”
“Consider it one of my qualities.”
He turned away, and she raised a brow in his direction. She couldn’t help it. No one in her life had ever irritated her quite so much as this man. Her husband. Her husband, who had plucked her, without remorse, from her life. Her husband, whom she’d agreed to marry because she did not want her sisters to suffer another blow to their reputations at her hands. Her husband, who had agreed to help her. Only now did she realize that by help, he’d meant, arrange another loveless marriage. Or two.
She wasn’t having it.
She couldn’t do much, but she could make certain that Olivia and Pippa had their chance at happy marriages.
The chance she hadn’t had.
“First, you don’t even know if these men will have them.”
“They will.” He leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes once more.
“How do you know that?”
“Because they owe me a great deal of money, and I will forgive their debts in exchange for marriage.”
Penelope’s jaw dropped. “You will buy their fidelity?”
“I’m not certain that fidelity is part of the bargain.”
He said it without opening his eyes—eyes that remained closed for the long minutes during which she considered the horrible words.
She leaned forward and poked him in the leg with one finger. Hard.
His eyes opened.
There was no room for triumph in her as she was too full of outrage. “No,” she said, the word short and sharp in the small carriage.
“No?”
“No,” she repeated. “You gave me your word that our marriage wouldn’t ruin my sisters.”
“And it will not. Indeed, marriage to these men would make them quite revered in society.”
“Marriage to titled men who owe you money and might not be faithful will ruin them in other ways. In the ways that matter.”
One of his dark brows rose in that irritating expression she was coming to dislike. “The ways that matter?”