An Unacceptable Offer
Dear Reader,
Between 1985 and 1998, I wrote more than thirty Signet Regency romances, most of which have long been out of print. Many of you have been asking me about them and hunting for them, and, in some cases, paying high prices for second-hand copies to complete your collections of my books. I have been touched by your interest. I am delighted that these books are going to be available as e-books with lovely new covers and very affordable prices.
If you have read any of my more recent books, the Bedwyn saga, the Simply quartet, the Huxtable series, the Survivors’ Club series, for example, you may wish to discover if my writing has changed in the course of the past 30 years or if my view of life and love and romance remains essentially the same. Whatever you decide, I do hope you will enjoy being able to read these books at last.
Mary Balogh
www.marybalogh.com
“An Unacceptable Offer” Copyright © 1988 by Mary Balogh
AN UNACCEPTABLE OFFER First Ebook edition April 2019 ISBN: 978-1-944654-27-6
All rights reserved. No part of the Ebook may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both copyright owner and Class Ebook Editions Ltd., the publisher of the Ebook. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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“Balogh is today’s superstar heir to the marvelous legacy of Georgette Heyer (except a lot steamier)!” –New York Times Bestselling author Susan Elizabeth Phillips
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“Winning, witty, and engaging…fulfilled all of my romantic fantasies.” –New York TimesBestselling author Teresa Medeiros
An Unacceptable Offer
Mary Balogh
Class Ebook Editions, Ltd.
New York, NY
Table of Contents
Cover
Dear Reader
Praise for Mary
Title Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
More by Mary Balogh
Biography
Also by Mary
Chapter 1
JOSEPH Sedgeworth yawned and held up his brandy glass to his eye to observe the inch of liquor still left in it. “I must have been mad to accompany you here, Fairfax,” he said. “After two weeks in London I shall feel hemmed in and restless. And I have agreed to spend two months here with you.”
The yawn was contagious. Michael Templeton, Viscount Fairfax, waited until it had passed before answering. “I have no sympathy whatsoever, Sedge,” he said. “It was your idea that spending the Season here would be good for me. I would not have given the matter a thought, left to myself. And if I have to be here for a couple of months, my friend, then you will just have to suffer along with me.” He grinned and raised his glass in a mock toast to the man seated opposite him.
“What I do for friendship!” Sedgeworth complained. “You know perfectly well that being in one place for any length of time always did set my feet to itching, Fairfax. Now, with you it is different. Until you married Susan, you were always in your element being here. You had all the females from the cits on up panting for your favors. It isn’t at all fair, you know, for one man to be allowed to be such a handsome devil.”
“Oh, come,” his companion said with a laugh. “You aren’t about to tell me that it is a sense of inferiority as a man that has made you so unsettled, Sedge. You don’t exactly resemble the back of a hansom cab or anything like that.”
“Good Lord!” his friend said, his brandy glass pausing on its way to his lips. “Where did you dream up that comparison Fairfax? The truth is that I am just not interested in the muslin company or any female company for that matter. Females are too silly. I can’t drum up any enthusiasm to talk about bonnets and the latest on-dits and other equally feminine concerns. Give me a bachelor existence any day. No ties, and freedom to do whatever I please.”
“You might find that some mamas will have other ideas for the next few months,” the viscount said.
“With you running loose? Hardly,” his companion said. “They will all be so intent on trying to ensnare you that they will be quite unaware of my existence. And who can blame them? Good looks, a physique that most of us males would kill for, wealth, a fine home and estate, a title.”
“And two infant daughters,” Fairfax said with a grin. “Don’t forget them, Sedge. They come with the package.”
Sedgeworth made a dismissive gesture. “Most females dote on small children,” he said, “provided they don’t have to spend all their time looking after them. What kind of female are you looking for anyway, Fairfax?”
“It was your idea that I come here in search of a new wife,” the viscount pointed out. “To me the plan sounds rather cold-blooded. Susan has been dead for little more than a year. And there is something distinctly distasteful about coming all this way to shop for a wife. Almost as if she were a piece of furniture or a horse.”
“Nonsense!” his friend said. “Are you going to offer me more brandy, Fairfax, or aren’t you? Because if you aren’t, I am going to help myself.” It seemed to cost him some effort to haul himself to his feet and cross the library to the desk, where a half-empty brandy decanter stood. “That is just the way our society works, as you well know. Why not call a spade a spade? Why do all the young females come flocking to London each spring? To be presented at court? To enjoy themselves? Not a bit of it. They come to find husbands. And why do all the males leave their estates to the doubtful care of bailiffs just at the time when crops are being planted? To find wives, of course, or at least to look over that new crop to find if there is anyone worth getting leg-shackled to.”
“The Marriage Mart!” Fairfax commented. “You are right, of course, Sedge. You have a very blunt way of speaking. But then, perhaps that is why I have tolerated for so long a friend who drags me protesting from my home and children and proceeds to drink my town house dry of brandy. What kind of wife am I looking for? I don’t know. What does any man look for? Beauty, charm, a good body, good lineage, youth. Not too talkative. Cleanliness. Good teeth. I am running out of ideas, Sedge. It is too late in the day for thought.” He yawned hugely again.
“Love?” his friend prompted. “You haven’t mentioned love, Fairfax. That sweet nothing that all the females dream about. Are you looking to be knocked speechless by that one-and-only lady who was made in heaven for you?”
Fairfax grimaced. “I chose my first wife t
hat way, Sedge,” he said. “That sort of thing happens only once in a lifetime. No, if I marry again, it will not be for love. And if I do marry again, my friend, it will have to be someone I meet in the next few months or someone from close to home. Whatever I was like five years ago when I met Susan, now I am a homebody. And I am missing Amy and Claire already, though we left home only three days ago. I don’t think London will see much of me after this Season until it is time to bring Amy to market. What a ghastly thought. It calls for more brandy.” He jumped to his feet and was soon busy at the decanter.
“You should be able to choose within a week if you so wish,” Sedgeworth said, swirling his drink in his glass and taking a mouthful. “That one little miss at your godmother’s this afternoon was clearly rendered witless by the sight of you. I thought her eyes would dislodge themselves from their sockets.”
“Miss Crawley?” Fairfax said in some surprise. “A mere schoolgirl, Sedge. Though I suppose she must be out, or she would not be paying afternoon calls with her mother. Good God! I must be getting old. I scarcely even noticed the chit. Was she pretty?”
“Passably, I suppose,” his friend replied. “I didn’t observe her too closely either. What a bore of a day. Nothing but visits and more visits. Is that to set the pattern for the next few months, Fairfax?”
His friend laughed. “You brought it on yourself, Sedge,” he said. “Besides, I don’t believe you hate socializing as much as you pretend. After all, you must do plenty of it with all the traveling you do. You charmed my godmother and my aunt quite outrageously.”
“They are sensible females,” Sedgeworth commented. “And then, there was the visit to Joy. My sister and I were very close to each other when we grew up. Now I rarely see her. Good Lord! Three children already. It seems scarcely possible.”
“Anyway,” Fairfax said, “our duty calls have been made now, Sedge. All that is left for us to do is enjoy ourselves for the next two months. Starting with Aunt Hazel’s ball the night after tomorrow. There is nothing like starting with a flourish, eh?”
His friend pulled a face. “You have decided to go then?” he asked in a voice of gloom. “You did not give your aunt a definite acceptance.”
“Why wait?” Fairfax said with a shrug. “The market has been open for business for a few weeks already, Sedge. We must begin to bid before we are doomed to everyone else’s leavings.”
Sedgeworth put his empty glass down beside him. “You have changed, Fairfax,” he said, eyeing his friend with a slightly tipsy frown. “I never knew you so cynical.”
“Five years is a long time,” Fairfax said. “Remember that we have not seen each other for that long, Sedge, except for the last month, of course. But for that month you have seen me only in my home setting. I am nine-and-twenty now, no longer the eager boy I was still when I met Susan. Marrying and begetting are serious business and tedious business. I am not thoroughly convinced that I would not be better off to remain a widower. But then, the girls need a mother, of course. Curses, Sedge! Why did you have to arrive to shake me out of my comfortable gloom and force me to start living again? I was quite contented the way I was.”
“You looked it!” Sedgeworth said scornfully. “I did not once see you smile in the first two weeks of my stay at Templeton Hall. You cared nothing for anything except your daughters. It is time to live again, friend, even if life is painful. It comes along only once for each of us.”
“Pearls of wisdom, indeed!” the viscount said with a grin. “When you begin to become reflective, Sedge, I know it is time to take ourselves to bed. What time is it, anyway? How many hours past midnight? Ugh! I’m just not used to late nights these days.”
“You had better get some practice, then,” Sedgeworth said. “Balls and such events, Fairfax. Beginning the day after tomorrow.”
Fairfax grimaced and got to his feet. “To bed, Sedge,” he said. “Or if you wish to stay up, you will have to be content with the brandy decanter for company. I am off.”
Sedgeworth yawned loudly. “That sounds like a good idea,” he said. “Bed, I mean. One day gone and how many to go? No, don’t answer that question, Fairfax. I’m not sure I want to know the gloomy total.”
Four young ladies were sheltering from the unseasonable heat of May the following afternoon. There was a garden party in progress and many guests basked in the bright sunshine on the lawns, conversing, drinking cool beverages, strolling perhaps to the cooler shade of the terrace before the house. Three young men who had been with the four ladies for a while had just strolled back to the house to join a few other guests who had taken shelter from the glare of the sun.
The four ladies were all sitting in the shade cast by two large oak trees, their light muslin dresses arranged carefully about them. Miss Honor Jamieson held a frilled blue parasol above her head, but it was quite unnecessary as protection against the sunlight. Its use perhaps owed more to the fact that it matched exactly the shade of her slippers and sash and complemented the lighter blue shade of her muslin gown and bonnet. She was noticeably the loveliest of the four, having been blessed with a small but shapely figure, dark glossy curls, and a face whose features were faultless.
“When I marry,” she said, continuing a discussion that had been in progress for several minutes, “it will be to the most handsome man in London. I do believe I could tolerate extravagance or even some of the lesser vices, but I really do not think I could bear a plain man.”
Prudence Crawley brushed some grass from her skirt. “Oh, but love is so much more important, Honor,” she said. “Handsome features do not last very long, you know, especially if the man indulges too heavily in drink or eats to excess. But love continues to the grave and even beyond.”
“Well, of course love is important, Prue,” Honor agreed. “But I believe I can love only a very handsome man.”
“I have little choice of whom I will marry,” Alexandra Vye said with a resigned sigh. “There is no point in my dreaming of either handsome looks or love. Papa says I must marry a title, and Mama says I must wed someone from home. Do you have any idea how few single titled gentlemen live in the West Country? And even fewer of them happen to be in London this Season. I sometimes despair of ever finding a husband.”
Honor shuddered and twirled her parasol. “Thank heaven Mama and Papa are more enlightened,” she said. “I have a large enough dowry that I need not look only for wealth. They have said I may choose whom I will, provided only that he is not a chimney sweep.”
All four young ladies laughed.
“And what about you, Jane?” Honor asked, turning to her cousin, Miss Jane Matthews.
“I do not ask for wealth or good looks or love,” Jane replied. “I ask only for an amiable gentleman with whom I might be comfortable.”
Honor pulled a face. “How dreadfully dull!” she said. “Surely you would not marry just anyone, Jane.”
“Absolutely not,” her cousin agreed. “Amiable gentlemen do not abound, you know. And even those there are do not necessarily flock to make me their offers. I do not have your beauty, Honor, or the freshness of youth that all of you have. I am three-and-twenty. Quite on the shelf and almost a confirmed spinster.” She smiled cheerfully.
“It must be just awful to be that old and not married,” Alexandra said with lamentable absence of tact. “Have you never wanted to marry, Jane?”
“Indeed I have,” Jane replied. “Ever since I was eighteen and brought here for my first Season, in fact. Unfortunately, wanting and achieving are vastly different things. I had an offer during that Season that I would now accept cheerfully. But at that time I was as you three are now. I dreamed of making a dazzling marriage with a handsome gentleman with whom I would be head over ears in love. I went home to Yorkshire still dreaming. And that is where I have been ever since, until Aunt Cynthia and Uncle Alfred invited me to join them here for Honor’s come-out.”
“How dreadful!” Prudence said, wide-eyed.
Jane smiled. “The years have not been was
ted,” she said. “I have grown up since I was here last and now realize that amiability is the most important quality in a gentleman. Good looks, as you said, Prudence, quickly fade, and I am sure that romantic love does too. Character traits are longer-lasting and are something on which a good marriage can be built. Respect and affection can grow in a marriage if husband and wife like and respect each other.”
“Well, if that is the sort of attitude that age brings,” Honor said feelingly, “I hope I am never three-and-twenty, Jane. Give me a handsome man and I will promise to live happily ever after. Really, though, there are so few to fit the description in London. I am mortally disappointed. They must have all enlisted and are wasting themselves with the armies in Belgium or in America. Only the plain, ordinary ones remain. Look at Ambie and Harry and Max.” She waved a hand in the direction of the house, into which the three young men had disappeared a few minutes before.
“You should not complain, Honor!” Alexandra said indignantly. “Wherever you go, a trail of lovelorn gentlemen follows. If that would only happen to me, I should not care that they looked ordinary. Anyway, Max is quite handsome, I think, though not very tall.”
“You are not right about one thing, anyway, Honor,” Prudence said. “The most handsome man in all England happens to be in London at this very moment. At least, I would wager he is the most handsome.”
“Pooh!” Honor said scornfully. “Then he must be that chimney sweep Mama and and Papa warned me against. If there were such a man of our class in town, I should have found him long ago, Prue, and raced him off to the altar before the rest of you could even catch your breath.”