Everything he said made her wonder more about him. He’d been nothing but—well,mostlykind to her. And if his friends were such paragons, why would they tolerate him if he was as surly and antisocial as he claimed? Her instincts were telling her that there was a bit of a mystery here, but also that Lord Whiddon was a far better man than he suspected.
But could she risk her future—and her family’s—on the hunch?
Suddenly, the image of her father flashed in her mind. Not the smiling, caring father of her youth, but the man who had returned, wounded from the wars. The man who increasingly sat silent, who drifted, always distant and far away.
Did she wish a husband who would be the embodiment of that distance?
Did she have a choice?
She dragged in a deep breath. “It all sounds perfectly reasonable, and I am so very grateful for the offer. I told you that first night that I had to find a husband. Now you know why I’ve been so determined. To answer your question, I would agree to such a proposal.”
Something lightened in his face, but he only gave a brisk nod.
“But I do have another question.”
“Yes?”
“We agree now to live nearly separate lives, but what if one of us changes our minds?”
“Divorce will only land you back in the scandalbroth you are trying to avoid.”
“I agree. But what I mean is—what if one of us decides he or she wants . . . more?”
“More?”
“More out of the marriage.”
He reared back a bit. “Truly, I cannot picture it. I’m a solitary man. There are difficulties with my family. I don’t like many people.” He snorted. “I can count them on one hand.”
“Who is the fifth?”
“What’s that?”
“Your four close friends and . . . who else?”
“My valet,” he admitted.
“Oh.”
“Six, now. If I count you.”
Something in her melted a little. “I am flattered.” And she meant it.
“I will not change my mind,” he said gently. “I urge you to decide now, if what I offer is enough.”
Her mind was whirling. It already wasn’t enough. But she would have to learn to live with it. Or find a way to make him see how much better things could be. She closed her eyes. She was gambling with her heart. But she was making things better for Anne and George, and even Aunt Bernadine.
This was always the sacrifice she’d been planning to make.
She opened her eyes. Nodded. “Very well.”
“Fine, then.” He stood. “I’ll see about getting a special license. It will be better if we do this quietly, without a big fuss. And quickly.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
He sighed. “You’d better use my name.”
She waited, expectant.
