The Arrangement by Mary Balogh Page B

the fingers of one hand through his hair and looked as though he was searching for words.
    “Was this the
arrangement
you spoke of?” she asked. “That you offer me material comfort and I offer you the courage to become the master of your own domain?”
    He exhaled audibly.
    “No,” he said. “Remember our dreams.”
    “Our impossible dreams?” She attempted a laugh and then wished she had not when she heard the pathetic sound she made.
    “Perhaps not so impossible.” He sat forward suddenly, and his face looked earnest and eager and boyish. “Perhaps we can have both them
and
marriage.”
    “How?” They seemed mutually exclusive concepts to her.
    “Marriages,” he said, “perfectly decent ones, are undertaken for all sorts of reasons. Especially marriages of the upper classes. Often they are alliances more than love matches. And there is nothing wrong with an alliance. Often there is a great deal of respect, even affection, between the partners. And often they live lives that are quite independent of each other even while the marriage survives. They see each other from time to time and are perfectly amicable with each other. But they are free to live their own lives. Perhaps we could agree to such a marriage.”
    The very idea chilled her.
    He was still looking eager.
    “You could eventually have your cottage in the country,” he said, “with your flowers and your chickens and cats. I could eventually prove to myself that I can be master of Middlebury and of my life alone. We could have a marriage now, when we both need it, and freedom and independence and a dream come true in the future. We are both young. We have plenty of life ahead of us—or we can hope for plenty.”
    “When?” She still felt chilled—and tempted. “When could we move from the one phase of our marriage to the other?”
    He stared past her shoulder.
    “One year?” he said. “Unless there is a child. It is a real marriage I propose, Miss Fry. And the begetting of an heir is a duty I must look to sometime. If there is a child, our dream will have to be postponed, at least for a while. But a year if there is no child. Unless you would rather make it longer. Or less. But I think we would need a year to establish ourselves as Viscount and Viscountess Darleigh of Middlebury Park. And we ought to do that. Would you agree to a year?”
    She had not agreed to anything. She felt a little as though she were about to faint. She could be married
and
have her life of quiet contentment? Could the two coexist? She needed time to think, and lots of it. But there
was
no time. She lowered her chin to her chest and closed her eyes.
    “It would be madness,” was all she could think to say.
    “Why?” He sounded anxious. Anxious that she would say no? Or that she would say yes?
    She could not
think.
But one thought popped free.
    “What if there was a child,” she asked, “and it was a girl?”
    He thought about it and then … smiled.
    “I think I would rather like to have a daughter,” he said, and then he laughed. “Another female to rule my life.”
    “But what if?” she persisted. “What if you were still without an heir?”
    “Then … Hmm.” He thought again. “If we became friends during our year together, and I see no reason why we should not, then we would not have to be strangers for the rest of our lives, would we? We would not be
separating,
only living apart because it suited us to do so. Perhaps we would both be quite happy to come together again from time to time.”
    For enough time to have a child? Or
another
child?
    She still felt light-headed. She tried to think rationally.
    “What if the time should come, Lord Darleigh,” she asked, “when you wished to marry someone with whom you had fallen in love?”
    “I am unlikely to meet any such person at Middlebury,” he said. “I hope to become less reclusive than I have been for the past three years—indeed I am determined to be—but it is a quiet village.