Free Lions and Lace by Meagan McKinney

seemed to make him only more implacable. "There are other ways, and I'll find them."
    "There are no other ways. By marriage or by birth. That's it!"
    He looked as if he might go mad. The truth of her words seemed to frustrate him beyond endurance, and she realized that he had rarely been confronted by such a problem as this—one for which money was no cure.
    There was a brief second when he seemed almost ready to let her go, perhaps even to return her funds. He didn't look defeated. In fact, after meeting Trevor Sheridan, Alana couldn't imagine defeat ever crossing those stern features. Yet he was at an impasse. The enormous power his wealth lent him wasn't going to move the obstacle; there was nothing he could do about the Sheridan birthright. He and his family were outcasts in society, and as much as this might be unpalatable, it was also an indisputable fact that he had to know no one could correct.
    A log tumbled in the fire. A shower of brilliant orange sparks danced up the chimney, and the flames were resurrected, given one last breath before their final death. She caught herself staring longingly at the hearth, again reminded how weary she was and how cold and damp her clothes were. She must have been looking for a while, for suddenly she realized the room had become ominously quiet. Even the fire had ceased to crackle, surrendering its life with a low hiss.
    A tremor went through her. Without glancing at him, she knew he was staring at her, knew it as well as she knew her heart was beating, though she could not see that either. With a reluctance born of fear, she slowly forced her gaze up to meet his.
    There was a most astonishing gleam in those dark hazel eyes. An idea was forming in this man's mind, and she knew it was trouble. Sheridan, with his genius for manipulation and revenge, was almost an unconquerable foe. As he watched her like a starved lion viewing his feast, a feast he'd never seen the possibility of or the necessity for, she knew without a doubt that all her problems had just multiplied.
    " 'By birth or by marriage' did you say?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.
    "If—if you think I might find a husband for Mara, I wouldn't know how," she stuttered, backing away from him. That had to be what he wanted—Mara's marriage to a Knickerbocker. Still, she didn't like that glint in his eye by half.
    "Mara must only marry for love."
    "If you care for her, that's the only way." She stared at him. Why didn't his answer ease this overwhelming, inexplicable panic?
    "But I don't have to."
    She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. "You don't have to what?"
    "If I had a Knickerbocker wife, Caroline Astor would be forced to accept Mara."
    All the blood drained from her face. She shook herself, unable to believe where his thoughts were going. "You must be joking. You aren't possibly thinking of asking me to marry you?"
    He paused and with a wry twist to his lips said, "I've no thoughts of asking you at all."
    She should have been relieved, but with that dark penetrating stare not wavering from her face, she could hardly think to take her next breath. "What are you planning, then?"
    "Perhaps a wedding . . ." Pensively he walked to his desk. He smoothed out the crumpled paper that held her biography and read it over again.
    " Whose wedding?" she asked, desperately trying to hide the anxiety in her voice.
    "Alice Diana Van Alen . . . one of the treasures of New York . . . of Washington Square and Petrus Stuyve-sant . . ." He finished the biography and glanced up. Their gazes locked.
    "My God, what are you saying?" she finally whispered, her very soul crying out in horror.
    "I think I need a Knickerbocker wife. I think that's the answer to this perplexing problem."
    Her heart skipped several beats. She couldn't reconcile herself to what he was implying. Finally she asked what she knew she must. "So you are asking me to marry you?"
    "Not asking."
    She stared at him, unable to accept that he might abuse his power this way. Her