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Mrs. Gracedew didn’t miss a beat, stepping closer, her voice low and persuasive. “Simply by computing the total amount to which, for your benefit, this unhappy estate is burdened. If I’ve troubled you by showing you your speculation is built on sand, let me atone for it by taking that investment off your hands entirely. I’ll pay your price, whatever it is, to set Cora free to marry the man she loves.”
He turned back slowly, his eyes sharp, calculating. “And pray what profit will you derive from that, Mrs. Gracedew?”
“Ah, that’s my own secret!” She laughed, bright and airy, refusing to give an inch. “I want this house!”
“So do I, damn me!” he roundly returned, his face flushing. “That’s why I’ve practically paid for it already!”
“I’ll practically pay for it, if you’ll only tell me your figure. I’ll cable to my brokers in Missoura Top to have the money sent right out to you, as soon as you name your price.”
Mr. Prodmore stared at her like she’d lost her mind. “You imagine that having the money sent right out to me will make you owner of this place?”
She tilted her head, studying him like a puzzle she was close to solving. “No—not quite. But I’ll settle the rest with Captain Yule.”
He looked down at his polished patent leather shoes, his voice tight with confusion. “Captain Yule has nothing to sell.”
“Then what have you been trying to buy?” She asked, her brow furrowed in innocent confusion, as if she couldn’t possibly guess.
The question struck him like a slap. He leaned in, his voice low and sharp. “Do you mean to say you want to buy that?” He nodded toward the stairs, toward where Cora was, toward the match he’d been planning for months, the social standing he’d been chasing. Mrs. Gracedew stared, her face paling, before she turned away with a quiet, unreadable sound. He pressed on, his voice sharper. “Is your proposal that I should transfer my investment to you for the mere net amount of it your conception of a fair bargain?”
She turned back slowly, meeting his eyes, no trace of fear left. “Pray, then, what is yours?”
“Mine would be, not that I should simply get my money back, but that I should get the effective value of the house.”
Mrs. Gracedew considered it for a second. “But isn’t the effective value of the house just what your money expresses?”
He winked, his hard left eye dipping just so, a cruel, calculating gesture. “No, madam. It’s just what yours does. It’s moreover just what your lips have already expressed so distinctly! You said it was charming, magnificent, unique, the perfect specimen of its class in England, when you were showing it off to those buyers this morning. Oh, you got in deep!” He was practically gloating, remembering the over-the-top sales pitch she’d put on, the way she’d banged the desk and raved about the house’s merits to drive the price up.
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