The Mysterious Mr. Heath by Ariel Atwell Page B

promise one thing,” she said.
    “And that would be?”
    “If it is a girl, she won’t be named Laurence. Or Matthew, for that matter. No matter how much her father begs me.”
    Matthew chuckled and gathered her against him, and they lay together quietly, the dark room lit only by the waning embers of the fire.
    “Do you recall the case where Judge Mansfield said that any concealment of information voids a contract?” Laurence asked a few minutes later, listening to the steady drum of his heartbeat as her fingers toyed with the dusting of dark hair across his chest. “Do you think he meant for that to apply to marriage as well?”
    “I think what’s important is that the two people in the marriage do not conceal information from one another. However, Mansfield was referring to insurance and not marriage, as you well know,” he said. “May I inquire why this topic is of interest to you right at this particular moment?”
    “Were you serious when you said you had always wanted a place in the countryside?” she asked.
    “I was. Were you?”
    “I was,” she said, lifting her head to find his eyes in the darkness. “I have an idea…”
    “I’m not sure if that’s a good thing, but I am listening,” he said.
    “Perhaps there might be a place somewhere in the countryside, far away from London, where Mr. Heath might be able to go unnoticed if she were temporarily to become…Mrs. Hastings.” She hesitated. “Assuming you still wish to marry me.”
    “That is a correct assumption,” he said, brushing a lock of hair off her face. “But I am struggling to see you in the role of good country wife. Baking bread and spinning yarn doesn’t seem in character for the Laurence Heath I know and love.”
    “And here I thought you were seeking a wife, not a servant,” she responded, and he laughed.
    “Fair enough. But will Mrs. Hastings wear skirts?”
    “It depends on whether Mr. Hastings will promise that he and his wife will be equals, regardless of her attire,” she answered.
    “I will do my best, Laurence,” he said, his voice serious now. “But I worry that I will muck it up somehow, even when I don’t mean to. My intentions were good when it came to Emmeline and Lord Worrell, and I still managed to upset you.”
    “Perhaps I could have been more…flexible,” she allowed. “But you were so arrogantly sure that you were right and I was wrong simply because you are a man and thus possess superior judgment.”
    “I am as fallible as any man, or woman for that matter,” he admitted. “But I am also not afraid to admit when I am wrong and try to learn from my mistakes. We may disagree, but I shall never again question your decision-making solely on the basis of your sex.”
    “That comes as a huge relief,” she said drily. “For I would prefer to avoid murdering you and becoming a widow so soon after becoming a wife.”
    “There is something else for you to consider, and I am probably a fool to bring it up for it won’t help my cause any,” he said slowly. “If we marry, the law will give me complete control over you. I fear that you would find it burdensome and grow to resent me for it, even though it is not within my control nor is it my intent to treat you other than my equal.”
    “Yes, I have been thinking of that,” she said quietly. “The implications for the firm are not to be dismissed lightly.” She was quiet for a moment and then something occurred to her. “I think I have an idea. What if we make our own rules?”
    “You’re the expert at that,” he said drily.
    She ignored his remark. “You mentioned once that your family was originally from Scotland.”
    “My grandparents on my mother’s side,” he affirmed.
    “What if we were to travel there and marry by handfast?” she said. “Handfasting is as legally binding as a marriage in Scotland, but I don’t believe it has weight under British law. We’d have to confirm that, of course, but I think I recall a case that