“So how do you propose to catch a husband? Despite my earlier assertions, I believe it would appear rather unseemly if you attempted to run one down.” He gave her another head to toe inspection. “Besides, you don't appear to have the bulk to wrestle one to the ground.”
“Money, Mr. Evan.”
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The laughter in her voice faded.
“Money?” Evan's blood ran cold, but he tried to make light of her words. “I'll admit, I am new to Rhode Island, but I am not aware of a market where young ladies can buy a husband.”
“Aren't you?” She turned and started walking back down the hill. “Money has purchased more than one husband for unmarriageable ladies throughout the years.”
“Unmarriageable?” Evan asked. “Are you speaking of yourself?”
Prudence shrugged. “Perhaps that is a bit strong, but I must be realistic.”
“What about love?” Evan walked faster to catch up with her. “Your grandmother found it. Your mother found it. Why can't you?”
“Love?” She said the word as though it tasted sour. “Mr. Evan, I suspect you've made a wager or two in your life. Am I right?”
“On many things.”
Of course, he would never have bet that he would be standing on top of a cliff, arguing the merits of marrying for love with a woman who seemed determined to reject the possibility.
“Reality dictates that I face the fact that my chances of marrying for love were never that great to begin with. What odds would you lay on my chances of a man falling in love with me, or me with him for that matter, within the next three months?”
“I admit those are not odds I'd take, but then neither would I bet against it.”
“Because I prefer a sure thing, Miss Ashcroft.”