An Unacceptable Offer Read online

  “True enough,” his friend admitted. “But I still have a place of great honor. Think how lowering it would be to have been lumped in with Max and Peter and Ambie. Poor souls. You’d think they would have more pride, wouldn’t you, Fairfax? At least we are ‘my lord’ and ‘Mr. Sedgeworth.’ ”

  “I fear perhaps the mark of respect is only for our advanced age, though,” Fairfax said. “After all, we are both approaching thirty and must appear quite aged to those very young creatures. Were we ever as young as that, Sedge?”

  Jane received her second proposal of marriage later that same afternoon. The first she had refused five years before because the man had seemed impossibly dull beside the glittering personality of the quite unattainable Viscount Fairfax. The second she refused—for what reason? Jane asked herself when she was back at home again. Surely not for the same reason. She could not possibly be that foolish. Could she?

  She was afraid she knew the answer. Every man she met now would be measured against the viscount and found wanting. And in a few months’ time she would return to Yorkshire and spend the rest of her life repenting her extreme folly. There was nothing whatsoever wrong with Mr. Faford as a suitor. He had the means to support her. He was a man of steady character. He was kindly. And she had refused him.

  He did not have thick dark hair that her fingers itched to run through or a tall, muscular body her own ached to be held against. He did not have blue eyes that looked intently into hers as she talked. He did not have a left eyebrow that lifted expressively to show surprise or amusement. He did not have the gift for conversing in a manner that made her forget herself, her surroundings, and the time. She did not throb with love for him.

  But he did have a regard for her and a wish to make her his wife. And why ache for dark hair and blue eyes and a muscular body when she knew they would never belong to her? Foolish, foolish infatuation!

  She surprised herself by her refusal. She hardly knew that she was going to say no until her mouth opened and formed the word. Mr. Faford was surprised too, though he was too well-bred to make much comment on her reply. They drove home from the park in embarrassed silence. He asked her at the end of the journey if her answer was final, whether there was any hope of her changing her mind if he asked her later in the Season.

  But she refused even this second chance. She might have said yes and concentrated on talking sense into herself over the coming weeks. She said no.

  So she was making an utter fool of herself again, pining for a man who would probably wed her cousin within a few months. She had learned nothing whatsoever in five years. She heartily despised herself. She dared not look ahead to the future.

  Chapter 5

  HONOR’S conversation consisted of little else except her picnic until the following Tuesday. She was in a fever of excitement. What should she wear? she asked both Jane and her mother a dozen times. Her pink? Did pink really suit her? The sprigged muslin? She felt it was quite becoming, but what if Prue decided to wear hers? The two dresses were very similar. Her pink bonnet was her favorite. If she wore that, then of course she would be wise to wear the pink dress. But perhaps her chip straw bonnet would be more suitable for a picnic. The yellow would be a quite striking choice, though, would it not? The sun would complement it if it turned out to be a bright day. The dress would give the day sparkle if it were cloudy.

  Lady Jamieson listened indulgently to her daughter’s prattling. It was left to Jane to see that the picnic was properly organized. It was she who conferred with the cook about the variety and quantity of food required, the number of footmen needed to serve it, and the number of carriages necessary to convey the ladies. She guessed that the men would prefer to ride.

  Jane was not at all sure that she was looking forward to Tuesday. She liked the sound of the setting, and it was always pleasant to be out-of-doors during spring and summer. But it would mean a whole afternoon spent in proximity to Lord Fairfax. And she was realizing more and more that being near to him was the worst thing in the world for her. She could not think or behave sensibly, it seemed, while there was still the chance of seeing him and perhaps talking to him. She almost wished that Honor’s hopes would be realized and that he would court her quickly and marry her. At least then perhaps she would be able to face reality again.

  Oh, but the very prospect was dreadfully depressing. She liked Honor a great deal. Who could not? But not as Lord Fairfax’s wife. She was not right for him. Honor was good-natured, despite her vanity, and she had a great deal of intelligence and talent that she ruthlessly suppressed now that she was in London. But she was certainly flighty. She loved gaiety. She would not suit his way of life at all. She was beautiful, of course. And he seemed to like beautiful women. No one had been lovelier than Susan, and he had very obviously loved her deeply. Perhaps he would love Honor too. Some men do not require steadiness of character in their wives.

  But Honor did not like children. When she had come to Yorkshire with Aunt Cynthia and Uncle Alfred to bring Jane to London, she had been quite cross with Harold’s children. Jane’s brother had brought them to the house to say good-bye to her. Honor had thought them unruly and had raised her eyes to the ceiling when little Andrea had shrieked as Jane lifted her, kissed her, and swung her in a circle.

  Fairfax appeared to dote on his children. Honor would find life very hard if she were forced to have a great deal to do with them. Jane had overheard her discussing the matter with Aunt Cynthia one morning. If she married the viscount, Honor was saying, she would make him take her everywhere of any interest in the world. She would make sure the children had the best of care, but she would not wish to spend all her time with them at Templeton Hall.

  Jane ended up sighing every time her mind strayed to such topics. She must just make sure on Tuesday that she kept herself busy. She would have to see that a suitable picnic site was chosen, of course, and she would have to instruct the footmen when to serve the tea. If she did not, no one else would. But that would not fill in her whole afternoon. She must try, if she could, to engage Mr. Sedgeworth in conversation. He had appeared quite friendly at the soiree, and he might help her keep her mind away from his friend.

  They saw the viscount once during the days before the picnic. Jane and Honor were walking along Bond Street, a maid behind them, when they came face-to-face with him. He raised his hat, bowed, and would have passed on, Jane felt, after greeting them. But Honor had other ideas.

  “Lord Fairfax!” she said. “You are just the person we have been needing. We are desperately in need of the services of a discerning gentleman. Do say you are not in a hurry.”

  Fairfax stopped and looked at her, his left eyebrow raised. “In what way may I be of service, Miss Jamieson?” he asked.

  Jane too had looked at her cousin in surprise.

  “It is Papa’s birthday very soon,” Honor said, all dimples and large eyes, “and I wish to purchase a new fob for his watch. Jane and I have been quite undecided about which one he would like. We have come very near to quarreling, in fact. What we need is the opinion of a gentleman of taste.”

  “And you wish me to help you make the choice?” he asked. “I would be honored, ma’am, though I am sure your papa would value anything that you selected for him.”

  “Oh, will you help?” Honor asked breathlessly. “I would be most grateful, my lord.” She reached for his arm and turned to Jane. “You may go on to the library, Jane. You know I find that place a terrific bore. Jane is very learned, you know, Lord Fairfax. Now, I am just a giddy young girl who prefers to let the gentlemen of this world do all thinking and reading. Hatty, you may go with Miss Matthews. His lordship will accompany me to the library afterward. Will you, my lord?” She turned wide, innocent eyes on him.

  He bowed. “I will certainly not abandon you in the street, Miss Jamieson,” he assured her.

  “But that was lying, Honor,” Jane said later, taking her cousin to task. “I really do not know how you could do it.”

  “Nonsense!
” Honor said with a peal of laughter. “I merely said Papa’s birthday was soon. Christmas is not a century away, after all. And besides, Jane, I mean to have his lordship, and I shall do anything in my power to get him. He is quite lovely to walk beside. Very large and strong. And he did not hold my arm away from him. He hugged it close to his side. I am very glad you decided not to wager with me, Jane, or I should feel as if I were boasting. I mean to have him all to myself at Richmond. Prue says the grounds of her great-aunt’s house are large. Perhaps we can lose ourselves sufficiently for him to kiss me. I shall blush and shed a few tears if he does, of course, and swear that he has stolen what he has no right to.” She giggled again.

  “You are shameless, Honor,” Jane scolded, feeling a little sick.

  “I know,” her cousin admitted, catching her skirts in her hands and twirling around the morning room, humming tunelessly.

  Fairfax was feeling quite cheerful. It was a beautiful day as, indeed, most of the days that spring had been. And they were approaching Richmond, already away from the worst of the noise and grime of London. The ladies filled two open barouches, the brightness of their clothing in the sunlight making them all appear lovely. And there was a whole afternoon ahead. An afternoon during which to get to know Miss Matthews better if he could get her alone without anyone suspecting his intentions. And an afternoon during which to flirt further with Miss Jamieson.

  He smiled to himself as he glanced back to see the young lady, sitting very upright in the barouche closest to him, looking rather like a ray of sunshine with her yellow dress and parasol and her chip straw bonnet. He wondered what fantastic lies he would draw from her that afternoon. He had not been able to resist asking her as he handed her into the carriage how her father had liked the watch fob. She had glanced hastily behind her to see where her mother was and answered him archly that Papa’s birthday had not come yet. When was that birthday? he wondered. He would wager that it was not before September at the very earliest.

  She had really taken her time choosing that fob, taking him to three jewelers before deciding that one fob she had seen at the first shop was the one she wanted. He had made no objection, of course. She had linked her arm quite indecorously far within his so that her shoulder rested against his upper arm, and she had moved even closer when they were forced to pass other shoppers on the pavement. The little chit was offering him quite an open invitation, in fact. Perhaps it was fortunate for her that he was not in the business of ravishing little virgins. She probably did not even realize that she was playing with fire. If she were his daughter, now, and he caught her up to such tricks, he would shut her into her room and feed her bread and water for a week.

  The party was turning through the wide gateways that led to an imposing house. But the carriages and horses passed it without stopping. There was no one in residence, Prudence Crawley had explained. It was a beautiful place. The grounds sloped away gradually behind the house, past extensive formal gardens, a row of hothouses, and a grove of trees to well-kept lawns that ended at the banks of the River Thames. The barouches and the baggage coach halted when they had passed the trees, and Honor rose to her feet with a little shriek of excitement.

  “How positively enchanting!” she cried, focusing all male attention immediately on her person. “There is even a boathouse. Is there a boat, Prue?”

  She squealed with delight when she discovered that indeed there was a boat and that they might take it out. Ambrose Leighton rushed forward to help her from the barouche, but it was Fairfax’s arm she took almost as if by random choice when she was on the ground. His amusement returned.

  “Oh, do let us go and look,” she said.

  Miss Matthews was already out of the other barouche and was walking toward the baggage coach, Fairfax saw at a glance. Doubtless she had taken upon herself the organizing and smooth running of this afternoon’s entertainment. He would talk to her later. He turned in the direction of the boathouse.

  Two other couples followed them. But when the boat had been lifted out and set in the water, it was Honor, of course, who demanded the first ride. The boat was large enough for only two. It was taken for granted that he would be the one to row her, Fairfax noticed as he helped her in and made sure she was safely seated before letting go of her hand.

  “I do admire the ease with which you row, my lord,” Honor said as he pulled out toward the center of the river. “I am sure my hands would be covered with blisters in no time at all.”

  “I rowed a great deal at university,” he said. “It is really not a difficult task, provided one does not dip the oars too deep and try to displace the whole river with every stroke.”

  She looked at him wide-eyed and twirled her parasol. “I am quite sure I should never be able to learn how,” she said. “I really am quite helpless about such matters.”

  “And what do you do at home to amuse yourself, Miss Jamieson,” he asked, “when you are away from the amusements of town?”

  “Oh, I manage to amuse myself,” she said. “I visit whenever the weather permits and Papa can spare the carriage. My friend Julia’s maid has a sister who is a lady’s maid in London, and she sends copies of all the latest fashion plates. We find it vastly entertaining to look at the pictures and to try to persuade the village dressmaker to copy the styles for us. And we spend hours dressing each other’s hair in the newest fashions.”

  “I see,” he said. “And do you paint? Do needlework? Read?”

  “I had a horrid governess who made me read every day,” said Honor. “I swore when I left the schoolroom that I would never open another book. I do not believe a lady should read, my lord, because then she might appear to be above the gentlemen whom she meets socially. It would not be ladylike to embarrass them so, would it? I dabble in painting, of course. What lady does not? But I consider it to be something of a waste of time. Why paint a scene from one’s own estate when the real trees and grass and such are right there, and so much lovelier to look at than the picture?”

  Fairfax glanced back to the bank. There were only a few people in sight. The four who were waiting for their own turn at the oars were seated on the bank beside the boathouse. Miss Matthews, easily recognizable in her spring-green dress, was walking with Sedgeworth. He wished for one moment that he could change places with his friend. At least one could hold a sensible conversation with Miss Matthews.

  He turned back to his companion. “I cannot help but notice how like a ray of sunshine you are today, Miss Jamieson,” he said. “It must be the color of your dress and parasol.”

  “Oh, do you like them?” she asked, her eyes sparkling. “The modiste told me that not all ladies can wear yellow. It makes their complexions look sallow,” she said. The parasol was given another twirl.

  “That certainly cannot be said of you,” Fairfax said. “The color suits your dark hair and the roses in your cheeks to perfection.”

  The roses in her cheeks became even brighter, he noticed. And so the conversation continued. He was quite relieved ten minutes later to be able to suggest that they return to the bank to allow someone else to have a ride in the boat. She was Susan all over again, without the petulance. But then, Susan had not been petulant at the start. He thought, on reflection, that perhaps it would be wise not to claim that kiss after all that afternoon. He had been planning a stroll up to the hothouses after the boat ride, with a route through the trees and a kiss in their shelter.

  But it would not be fair. Miss Jamieson was a very young girl obviously angling for a husband. She would give the kiss very willingly, he had no doubt. But she would probably expect an offer the very next day. And he did not doubt that despite her vanity and her rather empty head, she was a girl with real feelings. He did not believe she was in love with him, but she would be hurt and doubtless bewildered to discover that he had merely dallied with her. And dalliance was all he could offer Miss Honor Jamieson. She was lovely and eminently kissable, but she was not the sort of female he would choose for a second wife. Certa
inly not. He would be foolish indeed to fall into the trap of mere physical appeal again.

  As soon as they were on the bank, Ambrose Leighton helped Alexandra Vye into the boat. Honor took Fairfax’s arm and led him off up the lawn in the direction of the blankets, which had been set out in the shade of some trees. Lady Jamieson was there dozing, her back against a tree. Jane was also sitting there, her arms clasped around her knees, looking down on the river.

  “Jane,” Honor called as they drew closer, “are you afraid of the water? You need not be, you know. The boat is quite safe. At least”—she gazed wide-eyed up into the face of Fairfax—“it is when it is in the hands of someone who knows what he is doing.”

  “I have been walking,” Jane said. “The boat seems much in demand anyway.”

  “You must have someone take you out,” Honor declared. “I am sure Mr. Sedgeworth would be delighted to do so. Where is he?”

  “He went up to look in the hothouses,” Jane said. “I decided to sit here to cool off.”

  “Would you care to come out on the river, Miss Matthews?” Fairfax asked. “It will be my turn again soon, I believe.”

  “Oh, do let us eat first,” Honor begged. “I am starved. When do you plan to have the footmen set the baskets out, Jane?”

  “I shall do so immediately if everyone’s attention can be attracted,” Jane said.

  Honor turned to beckon to the two people sitting on the bank and to a group that had appeared up by the hothouses.

  “After we have eaten, Miss Matthews,” the viscount asked, his eyes steady on Jane, “would you care for that boat ride?”

  “Yes, thank you,” she replied. “I should enjoy it.”

  An hour later Fairfax handed Jane into the boat. There was already a suggestion in the air of the coolness of late afternoon.

  “Do you like water?” Fairfax asked. “Do you swim?”