"Do you think so?" he mocked.
"Yes."
"Your plans are quixotically beautiful, but totally unworkable. You're asking your father to sell his home. To make ends meet, he would also have to give up his membership in the various clubs. The chances of his being able to find a respectable position are virtually nil. Therefore, he would have to sit at home, with nothing to do but wait for you to give him a handout. What about his pride, Alanna? It would break him and in turn it would break your mother."
Her eyes glazed amethyst-bright with unshed tears. She bit at her lip, knowing what Rolt said was true and loath to admit it. Proud, sensitive Dorian Powell, bred to be a gentleman and the provider of his family. It would kill him to live on her charity.
Alanna turned away to hide her trembling chin. "What's your brilliant alternative?" Sarcasm trembled in her shaking voice.
"I could help."
> "He wouldn't accept charity from you," she flashed tightly.
"There is a way it could be done without him ever being aware it was charity," Rolt stated quietly.
"How?" Her breath caught, hope rising.
"I could arrange for his income from the plant to be increased, if necessary, I can put him in some public relations position, a part-time thing that would supplement his income."
"Could you?" Alanna pivoted, breathing her question.
His gaze was level and unwavering, indigo dark and hooded. "Yes, I could, I will help him…if you marry me."
Alanna stiffened, motionless for a minute. "What?"
"Marry me," Rolt repeated.
"It's impossible," she declared with a violent shake of her head. "I'm already engaged to your brother. He bought me a ring today."
Rolt lifted his glass and downed the rest of his drink. "Engagements have been broken before. That's hardly an obstacle."
"I happen to love Kurt. Isn't that an obstacle?"
"Only in your mind," he dismissed it aloofly. "It certainly wouldn't be the first loveless marriage that's taken place."
"Do you actually think I'll agree to this…this blackmail?" Alanna demanded incredulously.
"I don't think you have a choice, not if you really care about your parents as much as you claim," Rolt shrugged.
"It's preposterous!" She spun away, agitated and uncertain. "Kurt will help me. We can come up with some plan where Father won't guess where the money is coming from."
"Kurt doesn't have the kind of money required at his disposal. He works for a salary, one that would have difficulty stretching to cover two households. In our family, you work your way to the top or you don't make it. It isn't handed on a silver platter at birth." He set the glass on the table, the ice clinking against the sides. "No, Alanna, Kurt can't help you. I can, but he can't."
"I'll never marry you," she vowed. "Even the thought of it makes me violently ill."
"I offered you the only other alternative you have," he pointed out.
"I can't accept that!"
"What are going to do, then? Nothing?" His voice was nearer, signaling his approach.
"I don't know." A frustrated sigh broke from her lips. She whirled to face him, her expression angry and resentful "You could go ahead and help him with none of your impossible strings attached!"
"Out of the goodness of my heart?" Rolt murmured wryly. "I want you, Alanna, by fair means or foul."
She knew the appeal was wasted even when she said it. "Did it ever occur to you that if you helped my father without any conditions, I might be so grateful that I would change my opinion of you?"
"It occurred to me," he acknowledged. "But changing your opinion is not becoming my wife. And that's what I want. I would rather know before I helped your father how grateful you're going to be."