An Unacceptable Offer Read online

  He shrugged. “Enough of me,” he said. “Tell me more about yourself, Miss Matthews.”

  “Oh dear,” Jane said. “I do hate that request. There is nothing more calculated to tongue-tie me than to be invited to speak of myself. I search frantically in my mind for something to say and find to my dismay that there is absolutely nothing.”

  “That is refreshing, at all events,” he said. “One would not dare put the question to many ladies for fear that one might be listening to the answer for the next several hours. And pardon me, ma’am, I did not mean to cast a slur on your sex. There are as many men who find themselves fascinating topics of conversation.”

  Jane smiled. “I really live a quite dull life,” she said.

  “Nonsense!” he said. “I am sure you malign yourself. You told me you have several nieces and nephews. Do you spend a great deal of time with them?”

  Jane nodded. “I believe rather more than either my brother or my sister think good for the children,” she said. “They accuse me of spoiling them.”

  “And do you?” he asked.

  “I think not,” she said. “I am afraid there is always a frightful noise and a great deal of rushing around when I am with them, for I believe that most of the time children should be allowed to express themselves freely and move about as they wish. There is a need, of course, to learn restraint and good manners. But not in the nursery. My views are not popular, of course. I am considered to be a bad influence.”

  Jane was flushed. When two people conversed at a social gathering, they usually gave each other one half of their attention and the room at large the other half. The viscount’s eyes and apparently the whole of his attention were on her.

  “Some children find it harder than others to be quiet and disciplined, though, do they not?” he said. “Amy—my elder daughter—is almost always quietly busy about some task, even though she is only four years old. Now, Claire finds it almost impossibly irksome to sit still even to eat a meal. She is two.”

  “But you surely do not try to force such a baby to sit still?” Jane asked.

  “Oh, by no means,” he assured her. “I am afraid your brother and sister would not allow me within a mile of their children, Miss Matthews. I am far too indulgent, so my old nurse constantly tells me. I dote on my children and spoil them quite shamefully. I merely meant that Claire is vastly different from Amy, though they have the same parents and the same home. It is strange. One imagines, I suppose, that all of one’s children will be very much the same as one another and easily molded into the sort of people we would like them to be.”

  Jane smiled. “Your daughters must miss you,” she said.

  “I believe so,” he agreed. “I received a painting from Amy today. It has a band of blue sky across the top of the paper, a band of green across the bottom, and a coach and horses suspended in midair. The most ghastly face is peering out of the window. Nurse has written at the bottom of the page, ‘Papa on his way to London.’ ”

  Jane laughed. “I would wager the painting has been given the place of honor in your bedchamber,” she said, and then blushed hotly at her own choice of words.

  He inclined his head. “Of course,” he agreed.

  Jane did not know how much time passed while they talked. She was startled when her aunt interrupted them to announce that it was time to go home. Lord Fairfax rose to his feet and took Jane’s hand as she stood up. He bowed over it.

  “Good night, Miss Matthews,” he said. “I have enjoyed our tête-à-tête.”

  He had enjoyed it too, Fairfax thought, accepting a glass from a passing footman’s tray and sitting down again facing the empty chair that Miss Matthews had occupied. Indeed, the thought that had come to him almost as a joke that afternoon was perhaps not a bad idea after all. Perhaps he should marry Miss Matthews. She was very easy to talk to and really quite interesting if one enjoyed quiet good sense. Certainly time had passed quickly in her company. He could scarcely believe that he must have been talking to her for half an hour.

  She liked children and even seemed to share his liberal views about child-rearing. She would probably be able to make friends of his daughters. That would not be difficult with Claire. But Amy was a strange and moody child, difficult to get close to. It was hardly surprising, he supposed, considering the way Susan had neglected her. Yes, really, the idea of marriage with Miss Matthews was an eminently sensible one.

  Was good sense a good enough criterion by which to choose a wife, though? Would Miss Matthews not make a dull wife? Married to her, would he not crave someone with more verve and beauty, someone with more sexual allure? No, he really did not believe that Miss Matthews would be dull. She was quiet and sensible, of course, but did those qualities denote dullness? Was not a talkative and vivacious beauty more likely to prove uninteresting in the final analysis? He had found out to his cost in his first marriage that the whole of one’s married life is not lived in other people’s drawing rooms or ballrooms or even in the marriage bed. There were endless hours to be spent together in the quiet solitude of one’s own home, hours during which the craving for real companionship could become quite acute.

  He suspected that Miss Matthews might well be able to supply that companionship. Would it matter that she was not what one might describe as a beauty? Was it important that she lacked the power to focus the attention of everyone in a crowded room on her own dazzling person? Was it essential to find one’s wife exciting in bed? Anyway, that was impossible to predict. He had certainly expected Susan to be so. He would expect Miss Matthews to be a dutiful wife. At least he would not expect her ever to refuse him as Susan had done each time she was sure she was increasing. And having a regular bedfellow would in itself be satisfactory even if not wildly exciting.

  Yes, he really must consider the matter further. He must get to know her better. At the same time, of course, he could further his acquaintance with Miss Jamieson. They were cousins and lived in the same house. He found the little beauty quite diverting. She amused him greatly. He could not imagine her in his home, it was true, but he would not be averse to amusing himself with her company while he was in London. That pouting little rosebud of a mouth certainly invited kissing.

  “You look to be in a brown study, Fairfax,” Joseph Sedgeworth said. “Miss Vye needs someone to turn the pages of the music for her at the pianoforte. Now, I’m not a musician, you know, and would be turning pages at the strangest moments. You must come and help out.” He lowered his voice. “I believe the females are merely using their wits to lure you closer, you know. Miss Crawley suggested that I come and ask you.”

  “By all means, let us not disappoint the ladies,” Fairfax said, getting to his feet and smiling in the direction of the small group around the pianoforte.

  “He must really like me, do you not think, Jane?” Honor asked anxiously. They were strolling in the park the morning after the soiree. “He was in my company almost all evening. It was becoming almost embarrassing. We will become the on-dit of the town if he singles me out for such marked attention at every function we attend.”

  “But it is hardly surprising,” Jane said. “You have proved very popular, Honor. You must be very grateful at the way the Season has turned out for you. There are several gentlemen who spend a great deal of each evening in your company.”

  “Yes,” Honor agreed, “but who would even notice mere boys like Harry or Peter or Ambie? They remind me of lapdogs. But Viscount Fairfax! Who could fail to notice that he has a preference for me? Oh, Jane, is he not quite divine?”

  “Extremely handsome,” Jane agreed. “And he did single you out last evening, Honor. I am sure everyone noticed. And I am equally sure that you are pleased that everyone did, and would be quite gratified to become an on-dit.”

  Honor giggled and twirled her parasol. “You are unkind, Jane,” she said. “I am not really conceited, am I? Can I help it if gentlemen flock around me? Do you think he will call today, Jane?”

  “I have no idea,” Jan
e said. “You will just have to wait and see.”

  “Well, perhaps Mr. Sedgeworth will call to see you and bring the viscount with him,” Honor said. “You spent a great deal of the evening with him, Jane. Do not think I did not notice just because I was with Lord Fairfax. And he is a most proper gentleman. Nothing to compare with the viscount, of course, but he does have a very pleasant smile. He would be a good catch for you. Certainly better than that dreadfully dull Mr. Faford. You cannot possibly take him seriously, can you, Jane?”

  “I have nothing to take seriously,” Jane said. “He has not made me any declaration.”

  “Oh, but he will,” Honor said. “I know by the look in his eye. Don’t accept him, Jane. You can be quite old-maidish at times, but really you would be most miserable with Mr. Faford. Indeed, I sometimes think he behaves quite like an old maid.”

  “Now you are being unkind,” Jane said, laughing despite herself.

  “Really I should be offering up prayers that you will accept him,” Honor said, “to be sure that you will not win that wager you refuse to make over Lord Fairfax. He must have spent all of half an hour with you, Jane, at the end of last evening. Had you once glanced in my direction, you would have seen that my eyes sparked green with jealousy. I shall be quite out of humor with you, you know, if he makes you the second Lady Fairfax instead of me.”

  Jane flushed. “Now you are being absurd, Honor,” she said. “You know there is not the remotest chance of such a thing happening.”

  “He does have two children, remember,” Honor said. “Perhaps he is looking for a somewhat older, more mature woman to be their mother.”

  “And if you think I fit the description, thank you kindly for the compliment,” Jane said dryly.

  “Oh.” Honor looked stricken for a moment. “I did not mean to insult you, Jane. But you are three-and-twenty, after all. And you really are a very sensible person. You never do anything silly or giggle too much in company or use outrageous tactics to attract attention. I’m afraid I do all three.” She giggled to illustrate her point. “It all seems to work, though, does it not? I have told Lord Fairfax some shocking lies already, you know. Last evening I told him I was organizing a picnic and he must come. I have been puzzling all morning over how to break the news to Mama. You must help, Jane. Say it is your idea. Then Mama will think it makes perfect good sense.”

  “Not me,” Jane said fervently. “Besides, Honor, in all the time we have been here I have not once heard Aunt Cynthia say no to any of your wishes.”

  “Oh,” Honor sighed, “I do hope he comes visiting this afternoon, Jane.”

  “So you fancy Miss Jamieson, do you, Fairfax?” Joseph Sedgeworth teased as they rode their horses slowly through the crowded streets of London. “But then, you always did have an eye for beauty. And of course you have always been able to have your pick of any female you fancied. The little chit was falling all over herself last evening to attract you.”

  “Jealous, Sedge?” Fairfax asked with a chuckle.

  “Heaven forbid,” his friend assured him. “I would not like the task of taming that little bundle of vanity and mischief, Fairfax. Though she does have something to be vain about, I will admit. A decidedly shapely body, for example.”

  “Most,” Fairfax agreed. “Do you not itch to see it without the encumbrance of clothing, Sedge? And touch it?”

  “If she were a different class of female,” Sedgeworth said, “I might be tempted to think along those lines, Fairfax. But there is no point in even teasing one’s mind with such thoughts of a lady. Unless one has the intention of leading her to the altar, that is. And frankly, I consider a leg shackle far too high a price to pay merely for the pleasure of putting a female in my bed.”

  Fairfax laughed. “You must have an iron will, Sedge,” he said. “You will not consider marriage to a lady, yet you are too high-principled to take a mistress or to hire yourself a whore. Tell me, when was the last time you had a woman?”

  “That is not a pertinent question, Fairfax,” his friend said in some discomfort. “A man has to have some secrets even from his friends.”

  Yes, he does, Fairfax thought. Sedge took for granted that the purpose of their visit to the Jamieson house was to call on Miss Jamieson. And Fairfax was content to let him think so. He wanted to keep quite silent about his interest in Miss Matthews until he knew her a little better and had made up his mind whether he was really serious about his idea of marrying her or not. He certainly did not want his companion’s teasing on the matter.

  When they were shown into Sir Alfred Jamieson’s drawing room a few minutes later, they found it already crowded. Mrs. and Miss Crawley were there, and three young gentlemen, all seated close to Honor. Mr. Faford was standing at the opposite side of the fireplace, apparently taking his leave of Jane. He crossed the room while the two newcomers were still greeting Lady Jamieson, and stood talking with them for a few minutes before leaving.

  Fairfax was pleased to find that there was no empty seat close to Miss Jamieson, while a chair had quite conveniently been vacated next to Miss Matthews. It would therefore not look at all suspicious for him to stroll across the room and sit next to her. He did so while Sedgeworth accepted a seat close to a smiling Miss Crawley.

  “May I?” Fairfax said, indicating the empty chair.

  “Of course, my lord,” Jane said, looking up wide-eyed into his face. And then she added in some confusion, “I do beg your pardon. I thought you would go to the other side of the room.”

  “It seems a little crowded in that direction,” he said. “I notice that Miss Jamieson does not lack for admirers.”

  “She has taken very well,” Jane agreed. She bent her head over the needlepoint she had picked up when Mr. Faford left.

  Fairfax watched her for a while. “This is another example of that very worthless life you lead, no doubt, Miss Matthews,” he said. “You do the most delicate work. Would you like me to hold my quizzing glass between your eyes and the needle so that you can see what you are doing?”

  She looked up and laughed at him. “Very definitely not, my lord,” she said. “I should also be able to see the mistakes I am making.”

  She really was quite pretty when she laughed, Fairfax thought. And her laughter held genuine amusement. It was not the artificial tinkle that so many ladies affected. The flush on her cheeks was becoming too. She was looking down at her work again.

  “Will you drive with me in the park later?” he asked. “I have been reminded since my arrival that it is obligatory to do so at least once a week when one is in town.”

  She looked up at him again with wide, startled eyes. “I am honored, my lord,” she said, “but I am afraid I cannot. I already have an engagement.”

  With Faford, no doubt, Fairfax thought. Was he going to have a rival for her affections? He was going to have to make up his mind fairly soon, or Faford was going to be offering for her. And she would doubtless accept. Miss Matthews was not a young woman. She was not likely to turn down an eligible suitor.

  “Ah, of course,” he said. “I might have known I would be too late. Perhaps some other time.”

  “I would like that,” she said.

  The conversation in the room soon became general. Honor was seated beside Prudence Crawley and had been whispering excitedly with her for several minutes. She clapped her hands, looking around the room with flushed and animated face.

  “Listen, everyone,” she said. “I am going to have a picnic next week and everyone is to come. Prue’s great-aunt lives in Richmond next to the River Thames. It will be the perfect site, and Prue says her great-aunt will be delighted to let us use the grounds. How does Tuesday next sound?”

  There was a buzz of enthusiasm from Honor’s three admirers. Prudence cast her mother a guilty look. Honor avoided her mother’s eyes, though Lady Jamieson was smiling indulgently and nodding her head.

  “My lord?” Honor asked, turning the full force of her charm on the viscount.

  He kept his fa
ce grave though he was laughing inside. This was the picnic she had mentioned on the spur of the moment the evening before. All for his benefit, he guessed. Perhaps it was conceited of him to think so, but really the little chit was most transparent in her designs. She was taken with him. Well, a picnic might be the ideal setting for that kiss he planned to steal sometime within the next couple of months.

  “It would be my pleasure, Miss Jamieson,” he said.

  “Mr. Sedgeworth?” she asked.

  He bowed and accepted.

  “And Max and Peter and Ambie will come, of course,” Honor said carelessly, her eye passing over her trio of admirers. “Jane will make all the food arrangements with Cook, will you not, Jane? I have no head for such matters. And you are so good at organizing.”

  “Whom else are you going to invite?” Prudence asked. “You must be sure to have equal numbers, Honor.”

  The young people put their heads together in order to solve this thorny problem. Fairfax gave up with some reluctance his spur-of-the-moment plan to take Miss Jamieson driving. He did not wish to trap himself into a situation in which all the ton would expect him to make the girl an offer. He really did not think he would ever consider her seriously as a prospective bride. Certainly he did not want his hands to be tied. He had spent long enough with her the evening before. Better to wait a few days before singling out her company again.

  He exchanged glances with Sedgeworth, and they both rose to take their leave.

  Sedgeworth commiserated with his friend as they rode away. “You couldn’t penetrate the defenses of all those lovelorn swains, eh, Fairfax?” he said. “What a waste of a visit, my friend, having to sit clear across the room from the beauteous Miss Jamieson.”

  “Ah, but, Sedge,” Fairfax said, “did you not notice that I was the first person singled out for invitation to the picnic next week? I confess I took heart from that fact. You merited only second place.”