“Another bargain?” Hugo squawked.
The vicar ignored him. “You were planning to leave next week?”
“Next Tuesday, or Wednesday at the latest.”
“Stay two weeks—just fourteen days. Stay and pay court to her—every day—as you would any young woman. If, by the end of two weeks, you still do not wish to marry her—or her you—I’ll consider your debt to me paid in full.”
Hugo knew Martha found him attractive—or at least she wanted him in ways she didn’t understand, physical ways. But she was pragmatic; just look at how long her courtship with Clark had been going on. She would never agree to anything in fourteen days. Especially not with Hugo.
He could stay the two weeks and discharge his debt and leave Stroma a free man. In every sense of the word.
“That’s all you want from me?” he asked.
“All you have to do is demonstrate a good faith effort when it comes to courting my daughter.” His blue eyes turned hard. “I would say two weeks of spending time with a pretty girl is a fair exchange for seven years in New South Wales.”
The old man certainly knew how to turn the screws. Hugo had made a promise, and he would live up to it.
“Very well, Mr. Pringle, I will stay for two weeks and do my best to, er, court Martha.”
Mr. Pringle’s smug smile told Hugo that he’d never had any doubt on the matter. Then the old man’s smile dimmed slightly. “Er, I would ask you not to tell her about this.”
“I’m not stupid, Mr. Pringle. It would be worth both our lives if she learned you were bribing a man to court her.”
The vicar winced.
“Don’t fret, I can keep my mouth shut. I’ll pay court to your daughter, although I’m not really certain what that means.” Hugo’sidea of courting Martha would be stripping her naked and licking every part of her body.
Somehow, he didn’t think that was what the vicar had in mind.
“I am sure you will come up with several activities you both would enjoy,” Mr. Pringle said.
Hugo choked back a laugh. Oh yes, he had no shortage of ideas when it came to entertaining himself with Martha.
He sighed at the thought of postponing his return to London. Oh, well. What did an additional week matter? He suspected the same mess would await him whether he returned in two weeks or two months.
The vicar held out a hand, as if to seal their agreement. “You’ll see, Hugo—the two of you won’t even need two weeks to learn to love one another.”
Hugo just nodded and shook his hand.
He should have told the old man that he’d already lost; Hugo had never loved anyone except himself and he never would.
◆◆◆
When Hugo entered the tiny pub a few minutes later he easily spotted a familiar flame-red head. “Ah, there you are, Albert, I was hoping to see you this evening.”
Albert looked up from the small booklet that he always seemed to have his nose buried in, his face breaking into a big smile when he saw Hugo. “I thought that I’d missed you; I heard you were here earlier.”
Hugo dropped onto the stool beside him. “I just popped in with Cailean before going to have a chat with the vicar about something. But I wanted to talk to you and figured you might be here.”
“I’ve not seen you in days; you’ve turned into quite the hermit lately.”
“Yes, well, those days are over.” Hugo nodded at Joe, who lifted a glass and pointed to the beer tap. “Please, Joe—and another for Albert while you’re at it, please.”
“Oh, thank you,” Albert murmured. “Your letter is all the locals are talking about,” he said, giving Hugo a curious look.
“Good Lord—I only read it myself a few hours ago.”
“Well, you know how things are here. So, it’s from a duchess, I hear?”
Hugo laughed. “Close. My friend is married to the youngest son of a marquess.”
“Ah.”
Joe set down their pints. “Thank you, Joe—pour one for yourself when you get a chance. And please add them to my account.”
The innkeeper smiled, clearly well pleased that Hugo would be spending a goodly chunk of the smaller draft in either his pub and store. “Ta, Hugo.”
Hugo slid Albert’s beer across the bar to him and raised his glass. “Here’s to getting off his island,” he said in an under voice.
Albert raised his pint and they clinked glasses. “I’ll drink to that—although it will still be a while for me.”
“Not anymore. I’ve got enough to send both of us home, Albert.”
“Oh, but I can’t take money from you.”
“It’s just a loan—and I know you’re good for it.” Virtue oozed from Albert; giving him a loan was as safe as putting his money into a bank.
Albert’s green eyes widened. “Really? I mean, are you sure? I shan’t be able to repay you—not right away, so—”
“We’re going to get our hands on that patent of yours, Albert. You’re going to become a screamingly wealthy man and then can repay me.”
Albert grinned and raised his glass again. “Now there’s something I can drink to. When do you want to leave?”
“When can you go?”
“Hmm.” Albert scratched his head. “The Wilsons asked that I give them a week’s notice.”
“Good, tell them tonight. I have to wait two weeks, but we can at least get you on the road.”
“I could wait for you?”
There was no reason for Albert to wait an extra week just because Hugo had to.
Not to mention you’re hoping you might be here a bit longer. Maybe even long enough to do what Mr. Pringle wants you to do …
That thought had never entered his mind.
Liar.
Hugo brutally crushed any thoughts of a future with Martha—at least any future beyond the next two weeks. What the vicar wanted and believed was nothing but an old man’s fantasy. The reality was that Hugo would be leaving Stroma as an unmarried man once he’d repaid his debt to Mr. Pringle.
He grimly took a long pull from his pint. “You needn’t wait for me, Albert. And I
