She needed to be realistic.
She was nearly six and twenty and no one else had seen fit to offer for her. Did she want to live as a spinster for the remainder of her time on earth, which, although she didn’t take it for granted, might possibly be another fifty years?
Considerably lower than her socially, Luke Smith was a good man. A hard-working man of character. And with four small children to care for, he likely couldn’t wait long for an answer.
He was also rather handsome, and perhaps the only opportunity Olivia would ever have to be a wife, a mother.
She’d not accepted just yet but neither had she declined.
“I know, Eliza. He is such a nice man. And I’m… I just…”Don’t want to give up my independence.
Don’t want to take on so much responsibility.
Don’t want to give up my dreams?
Don’t love him?
Or was something else holding her back? Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on? Because the secret dreams she harbored were foolish indeed.
Whatever it was, did her reluctance make her selfish? And foolish?
These children needed a mother, and Olivia would never have children of her own.
She could take care of the boys, their home, and Mr. Smith. She could teach Luke Jr., and then the twins, how to read, make certain they attended school. Her presence in their life could make all the difference in the world.
“Don’t put him off too long. It’s not as though he’s without attractions. Just last Sunday, Freda Whitley and Bethany Kerns were overheard saying they wouldn’t mind taking Smith on, family and all.” Eliza poured two cups of coffee and dropped onto a chair beside her.
Mr. Smith didn’t have the luxury of time, and Olivia was all too aware of this. If he didn’t remarry quickly, he’d likely have to send the baby and the twins off to live with some of his deceased wife’s relatives.
That was, if any of them came forth.
Even so, Olivia feared that he would ask her formally, soon, and she had no idea what her answer would be.
As much as she’d resented living alone with Mary those first few years, she rather appreciated her privacy now. Indeed, there were days where she resented her isolation, but for the most part, she liked her little home.
If she married Luke Smith, she’d be expected to give up the luxuries she had there. Although small and rustic in comparison to her father’s manor, her home was somewhat of a castle when compared to… She glanced around at the wooden floor with cracks through to the ground and the unpainted walls.
She’d have to share a bed with Mr. Smith.
Disturbed by her thoughts, she forced her attention back to the task at hand and adjusted the nipple in baby Harvey’s mouth. He finally seemed to be taking in some nourishment. The key was for her to remain calm. Patient.
Olivia knew what went on in a marriage bed. She’d seen books and heard more than one account from some of the married ladies in the village. She was not opposed to it. There were some nights when she experienced cravings…
Against any logic or reason, Lord Kingsley’s image hovered in her mind. The feelings he’d ignited as he steered her around the gazebo. Could Mr. Smith evoke similar sensations in her?
Mr. Luke Smithwasa very attractive man in his own right and seemed to have honorable intentions, but Lord Kingsley sent her heart into palpitations. Heart palpitations, she chided herself, meant very little if the man’s intentions didn’t include meeting one at the altar.
And yet…
Luke Smith had been raised with a family of ten children, in this very cottage. He’d only attended a few years of school before necessity had him searching out odd jobs, and he’d married his wife at a very young age.
Lord Kingsley was an earl and, having been raised the heir to such a lofty title, had likely been educated by uppity tutors before doing his stint at Oxford. He would have lacked for nothing his entire life. Most notably, he’d be expected to marry a lady who’d been groomed to be a countess—not some hoyden who’d been banished by her own family.
Olivia had been raised in a manor. Educated for most of her life. And up until that fateful day her father declared her unmarriageable, she’d developed expectations for a genteel marriage and family. Oh, not with any titled gentleman but with a man of like class. He’d be well-read, much like her, and they’d sit down to dinner with napkins and lovely utensils. They’d discuss history with one another, and literature. They might travel on occasion.
They would retain a cook and a housekeeper and, of course, she’d have Mary.
What would become of Mary if Olivia were to marry Mr. Smith?
