Page 19 of A Proposal to Wed (The Beautiful Barringtons #9)

“ M arriage? To me?”

Of all the things Harry had thought Lucy Waterstone might say to him, this was by far the most unexpected.

“ Yeth .”

Harry stared at her mouth once more, the delicious curve of her upper lip, so full and plump, he longed to sink his teeth into it.

How did I not notice the lisp?

“Are you out of your bloody mind?” He sniffed at the warm lemon and verbena scent wafting off her skin. Not a seductive aroma, to most men. But Harry wanted to bathe in it. Cover himself in her scent like a dog.

He placed his palms on either side, caging her in, inhaling as much of Lucy as possible.

Pressing the pads of his fingers into the paneled wall, he struggled to refrain from touching her.

She appeared so innocent, the wide blue eyes regarding him with no small amount of fear, yet she did not back down.

“I am not,” she whispered.

So erotic . That breathless whisper curled around his thighs. Not a practiced bit of seduction, but a way to hide the slight lisp, which seemed to come and go. Silence was her other defense. Harry was typically most observant. How could he not have seen it?

Because you are blind where she is concerned.

“You want to wed me,” he stated again. “But I won’t make you a countess, Miss Waterstone, like Dufton. I’m the son of a blacksmith. Barely welcome here tonight.” He took a step closer, and she shrank back.

“I don’t wish to wed Dufton.” Lucy glared daggers at him. She lifted her dainty chin another fraction of an inch. “Do you want Marthden or not?”

No hiding the lisp that time. “Oh, I want Marsden, have no doubt. I’m only not sure of the particulars.”

“Marriage,” she bit out. “There isn’t any other way for you to have the land, Mr. Estwood, except through wedding me.

” The lisp faded as her frustration towards him increased.

“Marsden cannot be sold. Not by me or anyone else. My great-grandfather attached it first to my mother’s skirts and then my own.

” Her chest rose and fell. “I suppose he…didn’t like my father. ”

“No one does, Miss Waterstone.” Harry cocked his head. “Explain.”

Marsden had been sitting for years, a giant, barren plot of land no one wanted in the Cleveland Hills, the ownership murky at best. A survey had been conducted at Joshua Marsden’s request, but the results had been buried first by him, then a team of solicitors.

Until Harry had uncovered the original survey.

Joshua didn’t want Waterstone to know.

“At the death of my mother, the possession of Marsden went to me,” Lucy said.

“I was unaware until recently. The property will be transferred, upon my death, to my eldest child and must always pass to a direct Marsden descendent. Those are the stipulations of Joshua Marsden’s will. Ironclad. Trust me?—”

“I do not,” Harry said. “Not even a little.”

Her hands fisted at her sides, nervously pulling at her skirts.

“If my father could not find a way to sell Marsden, I doubt anyone can. The land is not a dowry, can’t be sold, nor does my father have use of it, a fact I suspect he didn’t realize until he—needed funds.

” Lucy looked away before turning back to him.

“But my husband will have the use of Marsden. Did you think Dufton was trying to wed me out of affection?”

Harry pushed away from the wall, furious at the news. There was no way to own Marsden, only have the use of it. Waterstone had lied, stringing him along, raising the purchase price and making ridiculous demands. Enjoyed watching Harry twist in the wind.

He was bloody furious.

Also, Lucy had a temper. Which he enjoyed. Almost too much.

“May I continue?” She regarded him rather boldly, though he could see her hands still trembled. At his nod, she said, “You own a handful of mines all over England.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “What of it?”

“They produce copper, silver, coal and some iron ore. But not a great deal. You sell the coal. The copper. The silver. But keep the iron ore, though not enough is produced for your purposes.”

“My purposes?”

“Iron ore is a key component of pig iron and wrought iron, both used in the building of bridges, sewers, and railways. You’ve amassed a collection of ironworks so you can control the production of the rails, beams, and rods needed for construction.

Pendergast will be one of the largest of your ironworks once you complete the purchase. ”

“I like forges. Metal. Iron. And I have an interest in ancient weaponry. All matters we’ve previously discussed. If you recall.”

A soft blush crept up her cheeks. “I remember very well.” She cleared her throat.

“Access to the River Tees, which runs along Marsden, would help facilitate shipments from Pendergast. The ironworks is capable of producing much more pig iron and wrought iron than the others you own. Depending on the supply of raw materials, of course. So, one might believe, much like my father, that all you and Dufton are interested in is that river access.” She gave him a gentle smile.

“But that isn’t why you want Marsden. Nor Dufton either.

” She swallowed. “He also owns an ironworks or two.”

Harry stared at her mouth. God , he wanted to run his tongue over her lips. “Then what is the reason for wanting a barren stretch of land if not for the river. Sheep?”

A soft laugh. “Iron ore.”

Damn. It.

Harry didn’t blink. Didn’t flinch. Give any indication she was correct. He also couldn’t look away from her mouth.

“I imagine the entirety of the Cleveland Hills has pockets of iron ore, but there is an enormous deposit on the western tip of Marsden. Staggering in size. Oh, and a bit of copper. Also useful, but the copper pales in comparison to the iron ore. There is enough for you to rebuild the entirety of England if you wish, and Pendergast, along with your other ironworks, will convert it all into something useful. Rest assured, Father doesn’t know.

But Dufton must, else he wouldn’t be offering to pay off my father’s substantial debts in return for gaining control of Marsden by marrying me . ”

The room was quiet, the muted sounds of the ball barely filtering in.

“I dislike your father.” Harry stalked towards her again. “And Dufton.”

“I don’t blame you, Mr. Eth …” she closed her eyes as if asking for deliverance. Nervous again at his closeness.

Good .

“Estwood,” she finally finished.

The slight lisp obviously mortified her.

He hated that he’d never noticed it, never considered that there might be some other reason why she didn’t engage him in a great deal of conversation, and then, only in a whisper.

But Lucy had spoken to him when he’d guided her around the stones, just not…

loudly. And Waterstone had deliberately allowed Harry to believe Lucy couldn’t possibly lower herself to speak to him. Because Harry was so far beneath Lucy.

Not if I marry her.

All that breathiness, rustling silk and magnificent curves would belong to him . His, completely. No man, especially Dufton, would ever have her except for Harry because he was sure, as sheltered as Lucy had been, she remained untouched.

Waterstone would be apoplectic.

And she came with Marsden, the property he lusted after almost as much as he desired Lucy. Not to mention she had a head for business.

“Is there more, Miss Waterstone?”

“I would like to add that your friendship with inventors such as Mr. Bessemer coupled with your being a major supplier of pig iron and wrought iron leads me to assume your true reason for wanting Marsden. You are looking towards some sort of future industrial process.”

“Future industrial process?” he said, awed at her skills of deduction. Not even Granby or Blythe understood Harry’s future plans. “What would you know of such things? Pretty ornament?” He added the last bit simply to annoy her, because he liked her temper and flashing eyes.

A soft hiss left her.

“I will save you further speculation.” He took in the way her entire body rippled as he moved another step closer.

“Steel, as it happens, Miss Waterstone. I won’t bother with details save to say it is years away.

” At least a decade. But Harry would be prepared for the one thing that would revolutionize the world.

The deposit at Marsden was enormous and would take years to excavate.

“I’m not a peahen, Mr. Estwood,” she said in that breathless tone, filled with irritation.

His cock twitched in response.

No, she most certainly was not. Lucy was rather formidable when she chose to be but still fragile. Perhaps that was where his attraction to her had started. Harry’s mother had been much the same. Once.

Harry rubbed the blunt nub of his pinky finger.

The fact that Waterstone didn’t know the true value of Marsden was telling. Dufton obviously had been informed but had chosen not to share the information. How the earl had found out was anyone’s guess, though Harry had his suspicions.

But despite her intelligent assessment of his plans, her knowledge of Marsden and Bessemer, Lucy couldn’t possibly want to marry him. This had to be some scheme of Waterstone’s…or possibly Dufton’s. A trap.

“Isn’t there another gentleman,” Harry said, inhaling her delicate scent, “who would suit you better, Miss Waterstone?”

Lucy looked down her slippers. “I do not have the time or inclination to find another man to wed, and you want Marsden,” she whispered. “And if I am to be bartered for a piece of land, Mr. Estwood, I would prefer to handle the negotiations myself.”

She had absolutely no idea of the effect of her pretty speech on him, how much her clever mind aroused him as much as those glorious curves and inky hair. He wanted nothing more than to claim every inch of Lucy Waterstone.

“My future husband,” she said, gazing at him from beneath her lashes with a furious look, “will have full control of Marsden. Dig entire craters into the earth for your iron ore. Launch a fleet of pirate ships down the River Tees. I won’t stop you.”

“And what do you get?” Harry cocked his head. “Aside from not having to suffer Dufton.”

“Protection. Peace. Safety . I am an ancient spinster with a valuable piece of property attached to her skirts. Prey for every fortune hunter in England when the truth of Marsden comes out—and it will. I am not brave.”

“I disagree.”

It had taken a great deal of courage for her to face him, considering all the things Waterstone had done to Harry. What a pleasant surprise to find that inside delicate Lucy Waterstone was this intelligent, angry woman. Made her far more interesting.

But he still didn’t trust her.

“Think how well you’ll be received with a well-bred wife on your arm.” Her voice wavered. “Or hosting a dinner party. If nothing else, I am a lady. I can help you. A marriage of convenience.” Color rose in her cheeks. “Consider our union a business partnership. Nothing more.”

“No.” If Lucy thought she could be his wife in name only, avoid the unpleasantness of sharing a bed with a blacksmith’s son, she was mistaken. “Don’t be such a snob.”

“I am not a thnob .”

Lisping again. She was likely afraid. Upset. He had the urge to comfort her and resisted it.

“I have terms of my own, Lucy , if we are to wed.”

Harry had wanted her for years, though he hated to admit it.

Every woman he’d touched since their first introduction had resembled her, as unsettling as that realization happened to be.

Her rejection of him at the house party, done so publicly, had left Harry angry and humiliated, and the humiliation had followed him to London.

Waterstone had taken Pendergast because of her.

He wanted Marsden.

But Harry wanted Lucy even more.