He went still. Impressed, and somewhat wary.
Her gaze was very steady and a bit ironic.
He pointed to his face. “He was aiming for my heart and I knocked his sword up just in time. Seconds later he was dead.” He smiled slightly. “And Captain Hardy is nothing you need to concern yourself about.”
Her gaze didn’t flicker. But she’d gone noticeably still, and eventually her expression went inscrutable, and then she turned slightly toward the window again. Away from him and his bare arms and his wild ways.
He wasn’t entirely certain why he’d said it so unnecessarily bluntly. Or why he’d felt the need to share he’d killed the man who’d marked him for life. Some instinct had urged him to swiftly draw a sharp line between what she was and what he was.
What unnerved him was that he recognized it as a defensive response akin to piercing a pirate in the gut.
She returned her gaze to him. He had the strangest sense that she’d understood why he’d done it.
“I think we will be able to lie convincingly enough about marital bliss for the duration of a breakfast,” he said finally. “Shall we go down now?”
“I think the scone will do for me for now. I believe I’ll spend the morning considering my response to my letter.” She gestured to the alleged marriage proposal, folded next to her elbow.
“Very well. I’ve business in town I must attend to before the roads flood. You won’t see me again until this evening.”
“Until the hour of spirited discourse is upon us, then.” She offered him a small, polite placate-the-rogue smile.
She was still reading her letter when he went out the door a minute or so later, his shirtsleeves rolled down beneath his coat.
Chapter Seven
My dear Lady Worth,
I hope this letter finds you in good health. I have undertaken a good deal of reflection since the pleasant hours recently passed in the company of you and your father. As such, it became clear to me that in addition to an appreciation for literature and a fondness for the countryside in common, we two face similarly daunting seasons of our lives: I am fifty-six years old, widowed for the second time, and a father to five children, several still in the schoolroom. You are a well-bred, titled but unmarried woman of advancing years who finds herself without a dowry and facing an uncertain future.
I presume to write today with a proposal to which I believe you may be amenable.
You struck me as a pragmatic person, and as such I hoped you would forgive me if I forego the superfluous frivolities of courtship, which are rightly the province of the young and naive.
I should like to propose that we marry.
As my wife, you would oversee the management of household matters, includingthe hiring of servants, such as you were trained to do. You will have assistance from the housekeeper, butler, and my Man of Affairs. You would also assist me in raising and guiding the children with affection and wisdom and making decisions regarding their welfare, and I will expect you to dutifully participate in the more intimate features of marriage that occur in private between a husband and wife as well as attend to my comfort in other wifely ways.
I am certain you would be a credit to me as a hostess and in all other public functions requiring our mutual attendance.
In exchange you will enjoy a grand family name and title and all the comforts afforded by my fortune, lifelong security for yourself and any future issue that may result from our union.
I have an income of fifteen thousand pounds per annum, an estate in Sussex, and homes in London and Richmond. I will be happy to negotiate an allowance for you, and to provide a suitable settlement to your father.
I enclose a list of assets and sources of income, information which may help you to come to your decision.
Given a foundation of friendship, breeding, and interests, I am optimistic that affection will arise between us over the course of years.
I expect you shall need a period of reflection, and I believe a fortnight shouldbe sufficient. Should I not hear from you by letter post haste, I shall call upon you at your father’s home in Hampshire at the end of the month to hear your decision. I will send a messenger ahead of my arrival.
I am certain you comprehend that I do not take lightly the conferring of the honor of my good name. Rest assured, Lady Worth, that I believe you are deserving of it.
Yours sincerely,
Alfred,
Earl of Athelboro
He had indeed enclosed numerous other pages methodically listing his property holdings, his investments, the yearly incomes from his estates, and the names and ages of his children.
