An Unacceptable Offer Read online

  “I can swim,” she said, “but I do not like to do so. I am afraid to put my head beneath the water, you see.”

  “Ah,” he said, holding her hand in a firm grip while the boat rocked beneath her, “I would guess that you did not learn as an infant. Very young children have no such fears, you know. I was taught as a young child and I have done the same for my daughters. They like nothing better than to be in water.”

  “Even the two-year-old?” Jane asked.

  “She learned last year,” he said, “when she could barely walk. I will not say that she learned quite to swim. But she learned to do a good imitation of a cork. We have a lake only a half-mile from the house and have plenty of opportunity to enjoy the water in some privacy.”

  The river was calm, with that glassy quality that water takes on so often in the late afternoon and evening.

  “You are very relaxed,” Fairfax said, “for one who is afraid to get her hair wet.”

  Jane laughed. “Oh,” she said, “you will not find me to be a wilting creature, my lord. I trust your skills utterly. If you do pitch me into the water, then will be time enough to panic. But I shall try to keep in mind that you are a gentleman and an excellent swimmer and that you are bound to save my life even at the risk of losing your own.”

  He smiled at the humorous good sense that she showed. “You are a very sensible lady, are you not, Miss Matthews?” he said. “Does nothing perturb you? I wonder.”

  She glanced at him as if she were about to reply, but looked down at her hands instead. She looked quite pretty for the moment, her slender body bent forward slightly, the color in her cheeks somewhat heightened.

  “Will you marry me?” he asked, and listened in some amazement to the echo of his own words.

  Her head shot up and she gazed wide-eyed at him. She said nothing.

  He had meant the words, he realized suddenly. He had decided without even quite knowing it himself. “Did you hear what I said?” he asked after a few moments of silence. “I asked if you will marry me.”

  Her eyes were fixed on his. Dark gray eyes. “Why?” she asked. He read her lips. Very little sound escaped her.

  He looked away from her eyes. They were mesmerizing him. He noticed that he had rowed a long way from the rest of the party on the bank. “I could lie,” he said carefully. “I could tell you that I have fallen madly in love with you. And I think you would know that I was lying. The truth is, Miss Matthews, that I need a wife, and I believe you would suit my needs. I choose to live most of my time on my country estate, and I choose to play an active role in the upbringing of my daughters. I need a woman to share that life with me and to manage my home. My children need the security of a mother. A nurse is unable to give them that emotional satisfaction.”

  “But why me in particular?” she asked. “I am not ...I mean ...”

  “I need a woman of good sense and even temper,” he said, “and one who loves children. I believe you to have those qualities.”

  She sat quietly regarding her hands for several minutes while Fairfax turned the boat and began to row back in the direction from which they had come. The slight twisting of her hands was the only sign she showed of emotion.

  “I see that I have taken you by surprise,” he said at last. “Is there someone else? Faford, perhaps? He will be making you an offer soon, if he has not already done so. Are your feelings engaged?”

  “No,” she said quietly, her head still bent over her hands. “I have refused him.”

  “I see,” he said. “And am I to suffer a similar fate?” He was surprised by her near-silence. He had expected instant acceptance.

  She looked up at him then. “I do not know,” she said steadily.

  They were closer to the bank than either of them had realized. They both became suddenly aware of the bright colors of ladies’ dresses reflected in the water.

  “This is really not at all fair,” Honor called gaily. “You have had a longer ride than any of us, Jane. Is this the reward you claim for arranging such delicious food with Cook? And I thought you had done it out of the goodness of your heart.”

  “I am sorry,” Jane called. “Aunt Cynthia must be anxious to start back.”

  “May I have the honor of calling on you tomorrow?” Viscount Fairfax asked quietly as he pulled for the shore.

  “No,” Jane replied. “Please, nothing so public, my lord.”

  He nodded. “May I have your answer the next time I see you, then?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she replied.

  There was no further opportunity to exchange a word. Honor took Fairfax’s arm as soon as he stepped out of the boat and began to walk with him in the direction of the carriages. And a few minutes later, the servants having removed the baskets and the blankets from the lawn and some of the men having put the boat away, they were on their way home.

  So he had done it, Fairfax thought. He had made his offer to Miss Matthews. It was irrevocable now. There was no withdrawing. And was he sorry? He had certainly spoken impulsively. He had intended to wait awhile before making a final decision.

  But he did not believe he regretted his words. Miss Matthews was a sensible choice of bride. There would not, of course, be that aura of romance and excitement that had surrounded his first marriage. But there was much more likelihood that this marriage would bring him contentment. She would be an interesting companion. His home would be well run in her hand. Susan had been content to let the servants run the house. Miss Matthews would be good with the children. By her own account, she would not try to quench their high spirits, yet her quiet, sensible approach to life would surely have a stabilizing effect on them.

  And he did not find her unattractive. Her figure did not have those tantalizing curves that could set a man’s loins to aching, but it had a slender grace that was not unpleasing. He felt a certain interested curiosity to find out how that body would feel against his own. Was she capable of showing passion? Of enjoying the marriage act? He wanted a wife this time who would share his bed all night and every night. Would she be willing? She loved children. They would have some together. He would like several more. Well spaced out, of course. He would always live in terror of killing her as he had killed Susan.

  Fairfax shook the thought from him. He would persuade her to marry him with as little delay as possible. He was very eager to be back at Templeton Hall. He wanted her to meet Amy and Claire. He wanted to see how well they would all like one another. Perhaps she would want a grand wedding. He hoped not, though he would comply with her wishes. Those matters were important to women, it seemed.

  He would not tell anyone yet. Not even Sedge. He did not wish to be teased about the matter until he was quite free to divulge their plans. No, he was not sorry that he had spoken this soon. He no longer derived any great pleasure from the entertainments of the Season. He found it all somewhat tedious. And he did not really crave a woman merely for the sake of physical gratification. Lady Shenley, a quite delectable widow, had signaled her availability to him only the night before. He knew he could enjoy himself with her for the rest of the Season if he wished. He had felt only a passing interest. And he supposed the same thing had happened on a lesser scale with Miss Jamieson. The pursuit of a kiss seemed almost too trivial to be worth the effort.

  No, he would marry again. And this time he would be contented because he was making a sensible choice. Miss Matthews would be a good wife. Jane. He liked the name. No nonsense about it, just like her character. He was fortunate to have found her. It was unlikely that he would have singled her out for an invitation to dance if she had not been talking to his uncle the night of that ball.

  Why had she not given him her answer immediately? He glanced at her now, seated in the second barouche beside her aunt, listening with a smile to something Miss Vye was saying. Even a sensible, mature woman had her pride, he supposed. She would not wish him to think she was desperate for a husband. So she was making him wait. Well, let her have her moment of triumph. She was worth
waiting for.

  Yes, she really was.

  Chapter 6

  JANE was sitting up in bed, clasping her knees. She had blown out the candles, but she had pulled back the heavy curtains from her window first. Moonlight slanted into the room, making it almost as light as day.

  Finally she was alone. All the while during the journey home from Richmond she had thrown herself into conversation with the ladies with whom she shared a barouche. And during dinner and in the drawing room afterward she had concentrated her mind on the chatter of Honor and her aunt. She had not wanted to think until she was alone.

  Honor had been vastly excited at the success of her picnic. Viscount Fairfax had been most attentive. Had anyone noticed how much time he had spent with her? He had taken her rowing and walking, and he had complimented her on her appearance. A ray of sunshine, he had called her. She was very pleased that she had insisted on wearing her yellow. He had commented on her complexion too. Had he not looked marvelously handsome himself? And was he not strong? When he had rowed the boat, one would have sworn that he had to make no effort at all. Jane must have noticed. Did Mama think she could expect an offer soon?

  Jane had said nothing. She worked at her needlepoint.

  “I think Mr. Sedgeworth is developing an attachment to you, Jane,” Honor said archly. “I saw you walking with him while I was in the boat with Lord Fairfax. What did you talk about?”

  “About a large number of topics,” Jane replied. “Books. Music. The Congress at Vienna.”

  “Oh, really, Jane,” her cousin said, “you should not do so. It is no wonder you are three-and-twenty and still unmarried. No gentleman likes to believe that a lady might be a bluestocking.”

  Jane looked up. “Then what is one supposed to talk about?” she asked.

  “Oh, fashions, gossip, the weather,” Honor replied. “Anything, Jane, that suggests that we are just feather-brains. Gentlemen like that. And you should admire them. Flatter them. They cannot resist, you know.”

  “I would think gentlemen would be bored to have nothing more stimulating for conversation,” Jane said.

  “Well, there you are wrong,” her cousin assured her. “Mark how successful I am, Jane. You see how gentlemen hang around me wherever I go. I have not accomplished that by talking about books, I assure you.” She giggled. “I told Lord Fairfax this afternoon that I spend all my time talking fashions with Theresa Bell and dressing hair. He was charmed.”

  “You did not tell him about your water paintings, Honor?” Jane asked.

  “And about the French lessons you give Sir Humphrey’s children?” her mother added.

  “Gracious, no,” Honor said. “He would have thought me decidedly dull.”

  Jane had finally excused herself, claiming fatigue after a busy day. And she was sitting up in bed now, convinced that she would not sleep all night. She still felt as if she were in the middle of a dream. Surely it could not be real that Viscount Fairfax had asked her to be his wife. At any moment now she would wake up and laugh at her own absurdity in dreaming such a thing.

  But it was real. He had asked her. And she had given no answer! That was the most surprising fact of all. She had stared dumbly at him at first and then agreed that she needed time to think. She had not thrown herself at his feet and poured out her undying gratitude. It was amazing. She could be Jane Templeton, Viscountess Fairfax. Her wildest dreams could come true with one word from her. And she had not said anything. She had asked for more time.

  Why?

  Even if she did not love Lord Fairfax, he had everything to offer that she had looked for. He was well able to take care of her. He was amiable and interesting. He had a home to which he was attached and children whom he loved. She would surely be able to build a life of contentment out of such ingredients. And in this particular case there was the added attraction of the fact that she loved him.

  But that was also the main problem. How could she love so deeply and yet enter into such a marriage? He did not pretend to have any regard for her. He merely wanted someone to manage his home and be a mother to his daughters. He had chosen her because she was a woman of sense. He had said as much. If she tried to look at the matter objectively, she had to admit that he had probably chosen with some care. She had neither great beauty nor popularity. She had admitted that she liked children. And he knew that she enjoyed activities that could be carried on in the country as well as in town: reading, playing the pianoforte, sewing. He had seen today that she would willingly take upon herself the organization of social functions. She must seem the ideal wife.

  It hurt. That was absurd, of course. She had never looked to arouse any feelings beyond indifference in Viscount Fairfax. How could she be hurt that he offered her marriage without love? Perhaps it was his assumption that she did not desire love that hurt. Did she seem such a very dull person that love and passion were unnecessary to her? It had sounded like a business proposition that he had made to her.

  She had not expected anything more of marriage, of course. Would she be equally hurt if another man offered her marriage under similar terms? Had Mr. Faford said anything about love or personal regard? He had said that he thought they would suit. That was all. And she had not been hurt, had she? She had not even thought of being so.

  How would she answer when she next saw the viscount? Could she possibly say no? What was the alternative to marrying him? She would go home to Yorkshire within a few weeks and never see him ever again. Could she bear it? When she could be married to him, living in the same home as he, building a companionship with him, learning the intimacies of marriage with him, having his children? There really was no choice, was there? She could not possibly say no. She would regret her decision all her life.

  His children. Of course, that must be another reason for his marriage, although it was too delicate a topic for him to have mentioned. He wanted an heir. He clearly loved his daughters, but he must have desperately wanted a son when he was married. The first Lady Fairfax had died in childbed when the younger daughter was only a year old. Poor lady. Much as he had loved her, Fairfax must have considered her a failure in that one respect. And was she now to become the bearer of his children until there was a son? It was in some ways an exciting thought. By this time next year she could be a mother, the mother of Lord Fairfax’s child! But it was also a demeaning thought. While she was loving him, he would be using her merely for her reproductive functions.

  Jane sighed. Her brain felt hopelessly addled. She might sit here all night long thinking, but she knew that when it came to the point she would be no more ready to give a wise answer. And since a wise choice was not to be made, she knew she would choose according to her inclinations. She would accept him. And then she would have to face Honor’s terrible disappointment and humiliation. In fact, she would have to face a great deal of public reaction. Since his return to town, the viscount had quickly been accepted as the most eligible gentleman of the Season. She would be considered the most fortunate female in London.

  She wished he had not come. She might now be contentedly betrothed to Mr. Faford, with no thoughts of love to tease her mind. Or she might be enjoying a friendship with Mr. Sedgeworth. But of course, he would not be here if Fairfax was not. She liked him a good deal. She had thoroughly enjoyed her walk with him that afternoon. Those two gentlemen were very well suited as friends, in fact. They had a great deal in common. She had talked easily with Mr. Sedgeworth on a wide range of topics. But she had been comfortable with him, without that physical awareness that intruded on the few conversations she had had with Fairfax.

  If only she had met Mr. Sedgeworth without his friend, she might have entertained hopes of winning his regard. Now, of course, that was out of the question. Why was it that two men could be so similar in many ways and yet arouse such vastly different feelings in her?

  Jane slid down in bed finally and pulled the bedcovers up under her arms. When would she see Lord Fairfax next? she wondered. Jane Templeton. She could be his wi
fe. She probably would be. No, she could not believe it was true. She would not even think of it anymore for this night.

  She resolutely closed her eyes.

  Michael, she thought. Michael. She tested the name by whispering it to the moonlit room.

  Joseph Sedgeworth propped one foot against the empty carriage seat opposite and settled comfortably into the corner. He grinned at his companion.

  “It was to be Parker’s card party tonight,” he said. “Why the sudden change of heart, I wonder? Why is it so important to attend the theater tonight, Fairfax?”

  “I told you, Sedge,” his friend said evenly, “I like Shakespeare. I did not know until today that As You Like It was being performed tonight. There is always a card party to attend.”

  “Our going to the theater could not possibly have anything to do with the fact that Miss Jamieson will be there, I suppose?” Sedgeworth asked, amused eyes on his companion.

  Fairfax shrugged. “We do not even know for sure that she will be there,” he said. “Miss Crawley said this afternoon merely that she had been invited to join Sir Alfred Jamieson’s party to the theater tonight. If you will not believe that I go to see the play, my friend, then you may believe what you will. I could turn the tables, you know, Sedge, and point out that you put up no objection to the change of plan. Could that have anything to do with the fact that Miss Crawley will be one of the party?”

  “Spare me,” Sedgeworth said with some feeling. “The chit hangs around me only because doing so brings her nearer to you. She is suffering from a severe case of hero worship, I would guess.”

  “I think it is quite hopeless to try to get you married off, is it not, Sedge?” Fairfax said good-naturedly, leaning forward in his seat as the carriage drew to a halt outside the theater.

  His mother’s box was at quite the opposite side of the theater from that of Lord Jamieson, Fairfax discovered as he seated himself and looked around him. The other box was already occupied by several people. Sir Alfred and Lady Jamieson were there with both their daughter and their niece. Miss Crawley was indeed one of the party, as were three of those young puppies who followed Miss Jamieson around almost wherever she went.