Married For His Convenience. Eleanor Webster
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did one say to one’s suitor?
Of course, Miss Hardcastle and her lover had discussed Petunia’s eyes at length. Or gazed wordlessly at each other. She doubted Lord Langford wished to comment on her eyes and already the wordlessness had become uncomfortable.
‘May I walk you home?’ he repeated.
‘I’m certain I can manage.’ She sounded ungracious, Sarah realised belatedly.
‘I’m certain you can as well, but this would give me the opportunity to know you better.’
‘You might have been advised to do so before proposing to me,’ Sarah said. Then bit her lip. She’d aimed for humour, but realised that had sounded even less gracious than her previous comment. So absolutely not what Miss Hardcastle would say.
‘Indeed, but then I seldom take advice.’ His lips twisted in a smile, suggesting that despite his brusque manner he was not devoid of humour.
They turned towards the woods, walking in silence across the spongy green lawn until Lord Langford ventured a question. ‘So, Miss Martin, other than rescuing animals, might I enquire about your interests? Needlepoint or the pianoforte?’
‘Neither, actually.’
‘Watercolours?’
‘No.’ She stopped abruptly so that the animal jerked in her arms.
‘Miss Martin?’ He stopped also.
‘Lord Langford, I cannot make polite conversation when your proposal lies between us like an elephant.’
‘An elephant?’ His eyebrows rose and this time the smile widened, reaching almost to his eyes.
‘That’s what my moth—a relative called any topic everyone is thinking about, but no one will mention.’
‘Your relative has a descriptive turn of phrase. And what, do you suggest, is our elephant?’
‘Your proposal of marriage and my response. Or perhaps you have realised that the idea is ludicrous and now would like to withdraw the suggestion—’
‘No,’ he said. ‘I do not vacillate or retract an offer once made.’
‘Of course,’ she said. He would be honourable above all else.
‘So you have considered my proposal?’
‘I have.’ She forced her voice to steady.
A bird twittered overhead and a hawk flew. The stillness was so complete that she heard the feathered movement of its wings.
‘And?’
‘Yes,’ Sarah said.
Sebastian’s gut squeezed, although whether this was due to nerves or excitement he did not know. For the past year—both emotions—any emotion other than the leaden weight of despair had felt foreign to him.
‘I am honoured.’
‘Nonsense and poppycock,’ she said with a sudden return to animation. ‘If this arrangement has any hope of success, we must be honest. I doubt you’re honoured. Relieved at best.’
‘Are you always this outspoken?’ The woman did not mince words.
‘In general. But—’ She looked at him, her forehead puckered. ‘There is one other favour I must ask. I hate to do so as I know it will cost money.’
‘Do not worry, Miss Martin, you will have your own funds for whatever jewellery or knick-knacks you desire.’
‘Thank you, but that is not it. The favour... It is for my guardian, Mrs Crawford. I cannot leave her alone. She has become peculiar. I fear she will starve or freeze or both.’
‘You want her to come with us?’
‘No. I thought of that, but she’s lived here for years. She needs familiar surroundings or I fear she will become more disorientated. I hoped we could arrange for a companion, if that would not be too awfully expensive. I know that your circumstances are straitened—’
‘I can arrange for a companion,’ he said.
‘And you think someone would agree to such a position? She can be difficult.’
‘Money is usually an excellent incentive,’ he said, although it had not helped him retain a governess.
‘I feel I am abandoning her, but I need...’ She paused, as though uncertain.
‘Yes?’
‘Nothing. Only that I will visit her when I can.’
‘Of course, you are at liberty to come here as often as you would like.’
They walked forward again, continuing down the tree-lined road in silence until Miss Martin spoke once more in her forthright way. ‘When were you thinking this marriage should occur?’
‘I will talk to the local vicar and arrange for a common licence. I expect we can be married Monday.’
‘Monday? This Monday?’
‘It would save the necessity of chaperons on our trip to London and allow us to expedite our plans. If that is convenient?’
‘I have nothing planned for the day,’ Miss Martin said.
He met her gaze and they both smiled in recognition of the ludicrous nature of the statement.
‘I must also ask your guardian for your hand.’
‘Yes, I suppose.’ Her face creased into a frown as though she were more worried about this than getting married within the week. ‘I do not know how she will react. Don’t come today. It is too late. She is more alert during the mornings.’
‘Very well. But do not worry. I see no reason for her to disapprove of the match. I will, by the way, set up an account at the local seamstress’s establishment so that you can purchase a wedding gown.’
‘Oh, I hadn’t thought of that. I doubt poor Miss Simpson could make a dress so quickly.’
‘Again, money is an excellent motivator.’
‘You have a jaundiced view of human nature,’ she said.
A smile tugged at his mouth. His whole life people had pussyfooted about him because of his position, money or, more recently, his temper.
‘I would say realistic as opposed to jaundiced.’
‘But people can also be caring and compassionate,’ she said softly, glancing up.
She had long lashes—dark, delicate fans which formed pretty patterns against her pale cheeks. He stiffened. His sense of ease dissipated. He should not be noticing her eyes, her lashes or that her skin had a creamy smoothness that made him want to touch it...
‘People tend to care only when it is in their interests to express the sentiment. Moreover, now we are on the subject of emotion and motivation, I must emphasise that this is a marriage based on sound business principles.’
‘Business principles?’ Her eyes widened, her brows rising with a trace of mockery.
‘Indeed, I gain a mother for my child and access to my great-aunt’s largesse and you escape the drudgery of your current life. There is no sentiment involved.’
‘And you do not feel cheated?’
‘Pardon?’
‘Most men would wish to at least like their wife.’
‘Most men have not witnessed their parents’ infidelities only to have their wife run off with a Frenchman, taking his children with her. Romance is too fragile a base for a lifelong contract.’
He