“I am apparently daft, because I have naught idea what ye are trying to propose.” She jutted her chin out stubbornly. He found it utterly endearing.
He drew in a deep breath and looked out over the lawn. Joan was still far enough away that if they kept their voices down, she would not hear what they were discussing, and she was doing her best to focus on everything but them.
“Ye are no’ daft. Dinna e’er say such a thing. I fear I am not conveying myself verra well. This all sounded perfect in my head as I concocted it, but now that I have said it aloud it sounds positively outlandish. Please, do give me another chance to explain.”
He held his breath as he watched an array of emotions play across her beautiful face. She looked back toward Joan before turning her dark blue-eyed gaze on him once again.
She shrugged. “I really am unsure of what ye are trying to accomplish with this conversation.” She ran her hands over herpale-yellow gown, smoothing the silk. “But, whate’er ’tis, I shall listen.” She straightened her shoulders and folded her hands on her lap and waited for him to continue.
“As a way for us to end our current predicaments, I am proposing that we wed. We could easily convince society that we are a love match. I have no doubt in that.”
Her eyes narrowed as she studied him. “What is in it for ye? Other than control of my assets?”
“Your assets will remain yours to do with as ye please. I have naught interest in them.”
“I am no’ sure I believe ye.”
“I have my own holdings. My own coin. I have no use for yours. Of course, if ye agree to this, ye would need to move into Rosewood Manor with me. Ye are free to do what ye will with any real estate or coin ye hold from your late husband.”
She pushed off the ground and paced in front of the fountain. “I still dinna understand.”
“Lady Watson. I enjoy your companionship. Talking to ye is a joy. Ye are funny and quick-witted. Independent and strong. At night, and whene’er I am no’ in your presence, I find myself longing for your company. To be frank and mayhap a wee bit forward, I feel we would make a perfect match.”
There, he’d said it. Now he only needed to convince her.
She opened her mouth to say something, but he stood, holding up his hand to stop whatever argument she might be thinking up.
“I know ye dinna want to marry. Nor do I. But life has dealt us both a hand we dinna want. Our only way out is a mock marriage, in every sense other than paper. Our union would be recorded and recognized by the crown. Satisfying those surrounding us, forcing us to make a decision with someone we possibly may not want.
“This,” he paused, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to come up with the right words. “This agreement takes the decision out of others’ hands and puts it in our own.”
She bit her lower lip, causing it to plump and his heart skipped a beat.
“A marriage of convenience?”
He nodded.
“What wifely duties would ye expect of me?” she asked quietly.
He expected that question. And he refused to force her into anything she did not want. “Any duties are entirely up to ye. I expect naught. ’Tis no’ my right.”
“’Tis if ye are my husband.”
He bobbed his head in understanding. “True. To the outside world, let them think we are living the life of newlyweds. Happy and blissful. In private, when no one is looking—we dinna. ’Tis a secret I will take to my grave.”
Her pause told him more than her words ever could. She was thinking about it. He wanted to throw a fist in the air and claim triumph, but he could not do that. Not yet.
“But ye dinna e’en ken my past?” she mumbled.
“I ken ye were married. Ye are a widow. Your parents have passed. Anything else there is to ken, ye can tell me when ye feel the time is right.”
Wringing her hands, she looked from him to the window of the parlor, where the men inside were no doubt growing irritated that they had spent so much time outside. Their anger was not aimed at her. Though he was certain he had made enemies of the lot.
“Why would ye want to be saddled down with me?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“My lady, ye are beautiful. Saddled down is hardly the phrase I would use. I would be the luckiest man alive.”
“Even if the marriage is no’ consummated? I canna give ye what ye want. What ye need. What ye deserve in a wife.”
