An Unacceptable Offer Read online

  He raised his hand to acknowledge the bright smile and wave that Miss Jamieson had just given him. She looked dazzling as usual in sapphire blue. She must have said something to the other occupants of the box. Several of them turned toward his box, among them Miss Matthews, who looked her usual calm, rather pretty self in midnight blue. He inclined his head, keeping his eyes on her the while. He was feeling more and more that he had made a wise choice. There was something quite distinguished about Miss Matthews when one took the time to look closely.

  It was Sedgeworth who suggested at the interval that they pay their respects to the ladies in Lord Jamieson’s box. Honor was closest to the door and stood up when the visitors entered. She curtsied and fanned herself vigorously.

  “Is the play not marvelous?” she asked the two gentlemen, her eyes sparkling. She added quickly, “Though Papa had to explain to me at first what was happening. The language sounded so strange, almost as if it were not English at all. I suppose I should have paid my governess more mind when I was younger.”

  “Pretty heads ought not to be addled with such stuff,” Ambrose Leighton assured her. He had risen too.

  Honor smiled at him and then turned large eyes on Fairfax. “If it were not so very hot in here,” she said, “I should be enjoying the performance a great deal more.”

  “Why did you not say so earlier?” Ambrose asked, offering her his arm. “I am sure it will be much cooler in the corridor, Miss Jamieson. Allow me to escort you there.”

  Fairfax stood aside to let them pass. He almost laughed aloud. How could a young lady convey such bare-teethed fury while smiling all the while and thanking a thick-skulled admirer for his thoughtfulness? Somehow Miss Jamieson managed it. He turned to Jane while Prudence and one of the young men engaged Sedgeworth in conversation.

  “Miss Matthews,” he said, “would you like to take a turn in the corridor too before the play resumes? With your aunt’s permission, of course.”

  Lady Jamieson tittered. “Oh, Jane does not need my permission, Lord Fairfax,” she assured him, “though it is very courteous of you to ask. She is of age.”

  Jane got to her feet, her eyes on a level with his neckcloth. She looked very pale. Did she believe that he was about to withdraw his offer? he wondered. He noticed how slim and well-manicured her hand was when she laid it on his arm.

  They did not speak for a few minutes after they left the box, beyond an exchange of comments on the coolness of the corridor in comparison with the theater and on the surprising fact that the corridor was not more crowded. Fairfax wished to give her a chance to regain her composure. Not that she was outwardly disturbed. But she still looked unnaturally pale.

  “Have you given any more thought to what I asked you yesterday?” he said at last.

  “Yes, my lord,” she replied without looking up at him.

  “I must confess that I have thought of little else,” he said. “Perhaps it is unfair of me to give you so little time to consider. But I am eager to marry and return home and resume normal life again. My children need me there, I believe, not enjoying myself here. They need both of us, in fact. Will you give me your answer, Miss Matthews?”

  “I am greatly honored,” she said quietly, her eyes on the floor ahead of them.

  Good God, Fairfax thought, his eyes flying to her face, was she about to refuse him?

  “But I am afraid I must say no,” she finished, her voice shaking over the last few words.

  He stared at her in stunned silence for a few seconds. “I see,” he said at last. But he did not see at all. “Might I be permitted to ask why?”

  She swallowed noticeably and glanced quickly at him before staring ahead at the floor again. “I think we would not suit,” she said.

  “But why not?” he was startled into asking. “I thought we had a great deal in common, Miss Matthews.”

  “Perhaps we do,” she said lamely.

  He should let the matter drop. Good manners dictated that he accept her refusal with good grace. And she was very obviously ill-at-ease, if not, indeed, quite distressed. But he could not believe his ears. It had never once occurred to him that she might refuse him. Why would a not-too-beautiful, not-too-popular spinster in her twenties refuse an offer of marriage to someone of his position and wealth? He had always believed that marriage was the one main goal of a female’s life.

  “Why then?” he persisted, bending his head a little closer to hers and looking directly at her.

  She swallowed again.

  “I am a person,” she said very quietly and intensely. “I am Jane Matthews, my lord. There is only one of me. I am unique. To you I may appear to be no different from hundreds of other drab, aging females. But I am a person, not a commodity, not a footstool. Perhaps you do need a woman to look after your home and your children and to provide you with an heir. Perhaps I would contribute to your comfort. But what about me? What am I to gain from such an arrangement? I am not a servant for hire. I am an independent person, and my happiness matters—at least to me.”

  He stared at her in amazement. The paleness had disappeared from her face. It flamed with color now. “Did I speak so insultingly?” he asked. “I beg your pardon, ma’am. I had no intention of doing so. I thought the advantages of such a marriage to you would be obvious. I would provide you with a home, security, companionship. What more do you desire?” He was somewhat surprised to hear his own voice sounding irritable, almost angry.

  “Nothing,” she said. “Nothing. Please return me to my uncle’s box, my lord. The corridor is deserted. I believe the play is about to resume.”

  He drew her to a halt outside the box. “My apologies, ma’am,” he said, “for having troubled you with such unwelcome addresses. I wish you well.” He really had not intended his voice to sound quite so icy, he thought as he took her hand and raised it briefly to his lips. It was very cold.

  She curtsied, but she did not raise her eyes to his. “Good night, my lord,” she said. She sounded as if she were about to cry.

  Sedgeworth was grinning when he reentered their box. “You might have been luckier at cards tonight, Fairfax,” he said. “That Leighton pup would not be able to take a hint if it were handed to him on a velvet cushion, would he? If looks could kill, the poor devil would be six feet under already. Better fortune next time!”

  “I am leaving, Sedge,” Fairfax said without responding to the teasing. “Are you coming or staying?”

  “Oh, I say,” his friend protested, “you aren’t really so out of sorts merely because you could not walk with the lady of your choice, are you, Fairfax? I would say you probably had a great deal more of sense out of Miss Matthews than you would out of the little Jamieson. I want to see the end of the play. Sit down and forget your woes.”

  “I shall leave you the carriage,” Fairfax said. “I feel like the walk.”

  Sedgeworth was prevented from replying by the pointed turning of a lorgnette in their direction from a neighboring box. Behind the lorgnette was a large and frowning dowager, who followed up the glare with a loud “Shhh!” Sedgeworth shrugged at his friend and grinned. Fairfax left.

  Fairfax’s legs took him home almost of their own volition. He wore an evening cloak, but he scarce knew whether the evening was cool or warm. He was stunned. She had refused him. It was about the first time he could remember a female refusing him anything. But this time he had expected it least of all. Had it been Miss Jamieson or one of the other acknowledged beauties of the Season, he would still have been surprised, but at least those girls must have a large number of suitors to choose among.

  But Miss Matthews! She must already be well past the usual age of marriage, and it could not be said that men flocked to her side. It was true that that Faford fellow had seemed interested when he first knew her. But the man could not be described as much of a catch. He had applauded her good sense in refusing him, little suspecting that he was to join the rejected suitor soon after.

  Why had she refused him? He had a great deal
to offer her. He had the property and wealth that he had mentioned to her. He was reputed to be an attractive man. He was not very much older than she. He had expected her to accept him with alacrity. Was it the fact of being a second wife that bothered her? But he had never referred to Susan in her hearing. She could not possibly feel threatened by a dead woman, surely? Was it the children? Did she find objectionable the idea of bringing up another woman’s offspring? But she had said she loved children. And she would certainly have some of her own.

  What had she said? She had been very upset, even angry. She had accused him of not considering her as a person, of using her like a footstool or a servant. How absurd! He had offered her the Templeton name, the Fairfax title, and she felt she was being treated as a servant? Her own happiness mattered to her, she had said. Could she not be happy with him? He had never thought of himself as a particularly dull person. Susan had found him so, of course. But Miss Matthews seemed different from Susan. He had thought that she was not particularly interested in gaiety and social entertainments. He must have been mistaken in her.

  Perhaps he should feel delighted to have escaped another marriage in which his wife would be discontented and hankering after the fashionable centers. He could not feel delight. He had been in London for a few weeks already, and now it appeared to have been so much waste of time. He had very sensibly dismissed the idea of courting Miss Jamieson and had carefully chosen to direct his attention toward a woman who would be more of a companion to him and mother to his children. And it had turned out that he was a poor judge of character, after all. Miss Matthews wanted more out of life than the rather quiet, domesticated one he could offer.

  He should be delighted. Why, then, did he feel so irritable? Why did he feel humiliated, as if the woman had made a fool out of him? He did feel like a fool. He had always believed that he was attractive to most women. To be refused by a less-than-beautiful one was a blow to his esteem. He had not expected ever to have something in common with the Fafords of this world.

  By the time he reached home, Fairfax was feeling less than kindly disposed to Jane Matthews. Almost he was persuaded that she had deliberately led him on. Was she laughing at him now? Was the woman frigid, that she could afford to turn down two offers of marriage within a few weeks? Was she one of those rare women who were contented to go through life as spinsters? Of one thing he was certain. He would see as little of her as possible in the coming weeks. In fact, he would try to arrange matters so that he would not have to see her at all.

  Fairfax was looking at a newspaper when Sedgeworth joined him for breakfast the next morning.

  Sedgeworth yawned. “I should have come home with you last night,” he said. “Did you go straight to bed? I accepted an invitation to supper at Jamieson’s and ended up playing cards until some unholy hour this morning. On second thought, perhaps you should have stayed. You might have had your tête-à-tête with the little beauty after all. Young Leighton had to leave straight from the theater.”

  “Hm,” Fairfax said, turning a page of his paper. “I was tired.”

  Sedgeworth chuckled and crossed to the sideboard to help himself to breakfast. “Sounds like sour grapes to me, Fairfax. The little chit is panting after you. Is it her fault that she has a whole army of males doing the same for her? You will not have an ounce of trouble ousting the opposition, you know?”

  “And did you capture Miss Crawley as a partner for cards?” Fairfax asked, folding the paper in two so that he could more comfortably peruse the top half of the page.

  “Absolutely not,” his friend said with a grin. “She and Miss Jamieson settled to a noisy game of spillikins with the two remaining followers. Not exactly my cup of tea. No, I had Miss Matthews for a partner. We won by a comfortable margin, too. She was in unusually high spirits. She looked quite fetching, in fact.”

  Fairfax’s lips thinned behind his paper. “I am thinking of going home,” he said.

  “What!” Sedgeworth exclaimed. “You mean Templeton Hall? You cannot be serious, Fairfax. After all the effort I went to to drag you here in the first place? I thought you were beginning to enjoy yourself.”

  “I miss the girls,” Fairfax said. “You cannot understand that, can you, Sedge?” He flung down his paper beside his plate.

  “A fat lot of good you were to your girls when I came upon you,” Sedgeworth said. “You were in an almost constant black mood and never even smiled. I thought it was agreed that you were to look around you for another wife.”

  “I have looked,” Fairfax said bluntly, “and I am ready to go home, Sedge. Single. And it was your idea, my friend, that I was coming here in search of a wife. I do not believe I am ready for marriage yet.”

  “Is it all because the chit is not as easily accessible as you would like, Fairfax?” Sedgeworth asked in puzzlement. “I would have expected you to enjoy the challenge.”

  “Miss Jamieson!” Fairfax said through his teeth. “Always Miss Jamieson. What makes you think I have lost my heart to that little clothhead, Sedge? She is all beauty and no brain. She is the last female on earth I would consider for a wife.”

  Sedgeworth put down his knife and fork and roared with laughter. “No, really, Fairfax," he said. “You are doing it just too brown, you know. Protesting too much. You must not give up the campaign yet, old boy. At least wait until the end of next week. My sister was particularly insistent that we join her party to Vauxhall Gardens. She said, with some truth, that I am becoming more like a stranger than a brother. Of course, you could go home and leave me here, I suppose. But you have been insisting that I go back to Templeton Hall when you go. I have nothing else to do before setting off on my travels again when summer is over.”

  Fairfax sighed. “I have dragged you around to all my family’s entertainments,” he said. “I suppose the least I can do is stay and go to Lady Dart’s Vauxhall party. I used to love the place. Plenty of quiet walks in which to steal kisses. Ah, those were the days, Sedge. But I will not stay beyond that date. I want to go home. And I do not wish to spend overmuch time at Jamieson’s in the meanwhile. Fair enough?”

  Sedgeworth shrugged. “As you wish,” he said. “But you could always spend the time with Miss Matthews, you know. That would soon make the little beauty send her other admirers packing in haste. And you must admit the time would not be unprofitably spent. A very interesting person, Miss Matthews. Not a bad looker, either, when you stop comparing her with Miss Jamieson.”

  Fairfax excused himself and left the breakfast room.

  Chapter 7

  THE same morning, Jane was suffering a reaction from the events of the night before. Her aunt and cousin were still in bed after the late night. It had been past two o’clock when the last of their visitors left. Jane had been very glad to have the breakfast room to herself. She was back in her room now, seated on the window seat that overlooked the street. Her knees were drawn up, her arms clasping them.

  So much for her matrimonial hopes, she was thinking. She had been granted a second chance to come to London during the Season, at a time when she was beginning to resign herself to a spinster life. She had had two offers and she had refused them both. She would return home in a few weeks’ time and probably never have another chance to marry. Even if she did, she was not sure she would have the heart to accept it. She would live a single life, then. She would never know the joys of marriage and motherhood.

  She rested her forehead on her raised knees. Was she some kind of a fool? She had refused Mr. Faford because her renewed infatuation for Viscount Fairfax had spoiled her for a loveless marriage. And yet when the impossible had happened and Fairfax himself had offered for her, she had refused him too. She had refused to marry the man she loved.

  She had not been sure even when he had invited her to walk in the theater corridor exactly what her answer would be. She had expected it to be yes. She had not thought she would have the will to say no. But she had said no. He had been so sure she would accept him. He had sounded almost impat
ient at having to wait long enough to get past the formality of her answer. He wanted to get home to his regular life and home to his children. Almost as if it were a nuisance to have to be delayed by her. She had liked him. Since she had met him and talked to him, she had been impressed by his lack of arrogance. But last night he had appeared conceited.

  Of course, he probably had good reason to be. Female heads turned in his direction wherever he went. It had been so five years ago and it was so this year. Even in the country he was probably a great favorite with the ladies. Was it surprising that such a man should have taken for granted that she would accept him? She, plain, very ordinary Jane Matthews? He had probably expected her to prostrate herself at his feet with gratitude at the unspeakable honor he was doing her.

  And she had seen herself in much the same way. Ever since she had first set eyes on him she had felt inferior, as if he were so far above her that she was presuming even to raise her eyes to him. When she was eighteen she had been contented to worship from afar. It had seemed right. She had never expected to receive even one glance from him. During the five years since, she had trained herself to aim low. She was not worthy of a man like Fairfax, she had persuaded herself, even if she had not put the idea into quite those words. She had convinced herself that she was being realistic and sensible. Right up until last evening she had kept the same attitude. She had been grateful for every look and word he had spared her, stored them up for future delight.

  It was only the evening before that the scales had fallen away from her eyes and she had seen clearly. In what way was she inferior to Lord Fairfax? She was not beautiful; he was extraordinarily handsome. Did that make her inferior? She had the sort of character that could win her the affection of those close to her but that did not attract people in general; he had a charm that could focus the attention of a large gathering on himself if he chose. Did that make her inferior? She was the daughter of an untitled gentleman of impeccable lineage and comfortable fortune; he was titled and reputedly very wealthy. Did that make her inferior? She had been educated by a governess and had learned a great deal for herself through reading and listening; he had gone to a good school and university and liked to read and develop his mind. Was she in any way inferior?