‘I think I must ask you to leave, sir.’

      The lady received no response to her firm request. The gentleman she had attempted to eject from her small sitting room continued to pace across the rug, stamping a deeper trench into its tired pile.

      ‘Doctor Bryant!’ Ruth Hayden’s suffocated plea held a hint of irritation. ‘I beg I will not have to again ask you to go.’

      The fellow halted, exasperatedly planting his hands on to his hips. ‘I cannot believe you will not hear me out, Mrs Hayden.’ A grimace stressed his bewilderment. ‘Why will you not at least let me fully explain to you the benefits—?’

      ‘I need no full explanation, sir,’ Ruth Hayden interrupted him briskly. ‘I have the gist of your proposal and it is enough for me to want to spare you…spare us both…the embarrassment of any further mention of it. I am conscious of the honour you do me, but I cannot marry you. Now I must bid you good day.’ Ruth walked swiftly to the sitting-room door and pointedly opened it.

      As he realised he was being summarily dismissed, the look of surprise quit Dr Ian Bryant’s features to be replaced by one of anger.

      In the rural town of Willowdene he was an eminent member of society and not used to receiving such a set down. The woman delivering the snub was barely tolerated in company hereabouts and that made her attitude to his proposal the more unexpected. As his wife she would once more be welcomed into the fold.

      He was a ruggedly good-looking man in his middle thirties with nothing exceptional or objectionable in his demeanour. He was moderately broad of shoulder and quite tall. Now he drew himself even higher in his shoes before stalking towards the exit.

      ‘Had you not once given me reason to hope that you would welcome my attentions, madam, I would not be here at all.’ His lips curled in satisfaction as he noticed how that barb unsettled her.

      High spots of colour burned on Ruth’s slanting cheekbones as she recalled the incident to which he referred. But she tilted her head to a proud angle and squarely met his eyes. ‘I think on that occasion too, sir, you presumed too much,’ she rejoined coolly. ‘I was in need of a little comfort when my father died suddenly. I again thank you for giving it to me. Now there is no more to be said.’ She opened the door a mite wider, but still he seemed reluctant to go. Eyes that were unwavering settled on her face as Dr Bryant relentlessly studied the object of his desire.

      Ruth Hayden was beautiful rather than fashionably pretty. She was not blessed with delicate features and her complexion was not fair enough for what was considered nice in a genteel lady. Her thick dark brown hair had resisted sleek confinement in the pleat at her nape and glossy locks wisped untidily against her cheeks. Beneath defined brows were large chocolate-coloured eyes that were far too direct and steady for a modest female of gentle birth. The womanly trait he normally found alluring, flirtatiousness, was absent from her character. Today she might have blushed and lowered her eyelashes before him, but that was due to her being disconcerted, not playful. Yet in mocking contrast to her strait-laced attitude was the curvaceous body he had once—far too briefly—felt moulding to his. His eyes were drawn to it now: full high breasts and rounded hips that were separated by a divinely tiny waist he ached to girdle with his hands.

      Her unequivocal rejection had astonished him as well as dented his pride. A woman in her unenviable position ought to have jumped at the chance to improve her status and prospects. But she had thwarted not only his desire to bed her, but to have her mother his infant son. Ian was abruptly jolted from his brooding thoughts by a polite reminder that he was outstaying his welcome.

      ‘I have much to do, sir; I must insist you leave and again bid you good day.’

      Without another word Ian strode out. Within a moment Ruth closed her eyes in relief as she heard the bolts being slid home. Her maid appeared on the threshold to the sitting room. ‘Shall I put on the kettle, Mrs Hayden?’ the girl asked in concern.

      Ruth gave Cissie a small smile and a grateful nod. So Cissie knew she was in need of a little comfort! She did not believe Cissie to be an intentional eavesdropper. Her maid had sensed rather than heard the delicate nature of the conversation that had taken place moments ago between her and Dr Bryant. Cissie would have deduced from the doctor’s grim expression that she’d declined his proposal. Now the girl was curious to know her reasons for turning down an offer of marriage from an eligible gentleman.

      One only needed to glance about the sitting room to realise that Mrs Hayden lived frugally. The fresh herby atmosphere that wafted throughout the spotless cottage could not improve furniture that was shabby or furnishings that had seen far better days. If one were to venture into the kitchen and investigate the larders, similar proof of want would be found. The obvious conclusion to be drawn was that this widow’s lot in life would improve dramatically were she to marry a rich widower.

      And Dr Bryant was such a fellow—so everyone