Chapter Four #2
“Where is your butler?” he asked in a low voice as she hurriedly ushered him inside.
She shook her head, brushing the question aside. “It doesn’t matter. Thank you for responding to my note.”
“It’s my pleasure. Now how can I help you? Is it money?”
She gave him an indignant look. “Of course not. I would never ask you for money.” Then recalling the boy who delivered the letter, she flushed. “I can’t repay the sixpence I owe you at the moment but—”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “You look worried. Now, what is it?”
Collecting the shreds of her composure she invited him to be seated, saying, “I’m afraid I can’t offer you any refreshments at the moment but—”
“I didn’t come here for refreshments.” He waited for her to be seated on the settee, then chose an overstuffed armchair. “Now, tell me how I can help you.” His voice resonated, deep and sure. It had a calming effect on her tense nerves.
She drew a couple of deep breaths. Where to start? It had seemed quite a straightforward request when she’d been looking at her list, but now, with this tall, handsome, assured gentleman watching her so steadily with those piercing gray eyes, it seemed suddenly like a dreadful cheek.
“You were right,” she said abruptly. “About Ferndale, I mean. It was sold.”
He nodded. “Your brother admitted it, did he?”
“I didn’t ask him—I knew he would simply lie. No, I went there and saw for myself.”
His brows snapped together. “You went to Ferndale? All that way? Alone?”
She nodded. “I could see at once that it was in other hands. It was all so tidy and prosperous looking, which it never had been before. Strangers live there now—the Sanderson family.”
He frowned. “You spoke to them?”
“No, just the butler. I only stayed for a few minutes. I could see at once that new people were there and my old home was. . . was lost to me forever.” Her voice choked a little on that last sentence.
He sat back. “What did Edgar say when you confronted him—I gather you did confront him.”
“Oh yes, and he denied it and denied it—he must think I’m a complete fool. Though I suppose I am, given the way he has been deceiving me all along. But I stood firm and eventually he had to admit it. I don’t believe he ever had any intention of getting a loan.”
“It’s not foolish to believe the word of your brother, the head of your family. If anything, he is the fool for abusing his only sister’s trust and alienating her.”
“Perhaps.” She swallowed and said, “He is still determined on my marrying Sir Henry Lester.”
He sat up straight. “You’re not, are you?”
“No, I’ve told him I won’t do it. I made it very clear.
However . . .” She bit her lip. She couldn’t tell him how Edgar’s smug confidence, and what had happened with her previous marriage frightened her.
“I must find some way of supporting myself, a position of some sort. Which is why I’m asking for your help. ”
#
MARCUS FROZE. FOR ONE appalled instant, he’d imagined she was talking about becoming a courtesan and for an even more shocking moment he’d almost considered it. She was very beautiful and would have no trouble finding a rich protector. At least she would be safe with him.
“What sort of help?” he said cautiously.
She clasped her hands over her heart. “I need to find some way to support myself.”
“Yes of course. What were you thinking of?” He held his breath.
“I’m not sure. I made a list of possibilities, but I’m not qualified for positions such as a governess or even a dresser—I had dressers when I was married, and they were more skilled than I could ever be in the maintenance and repair of clothes. And I could never do hair as elegantly as they did.”
Governess. Dresser. His breath escaped in a gust of relief. “I understand the difficulties, but why not marry? Not some ancient, but a much younger man, someone nearer your own age?” And then he found himself adding, “Myself, for instance.”
He froze. Had he just proposed marriage? He had. Or close enough.
She shook her head. “No, thank you for the suggestion, but I don’t ever intend to marry again.”
He frowned. “What, never?” His brain was reeling. Any other woman would have snapped up that suggestion in a trice—and placed a betrothal announcement in the Morning Post at the earliest possible moment. But she’d barely seemed to notice.
“Yes, I find marriage doesn’t suit me.”
She would think that after two marriages to men old enough to be her grandfather. And he couldn’t help persisting. “What about children? Don’t you want children?” The way she’d cared about those wild animals when she was young, he was certain she’d make a wonderful mother.
She flushed and shook her head. “No, and please let us drop the subject. I won’t marry again. I asked you here for quite a different reason.”
“Of course,” he said, feeling dazed. He’d virtually proposed to her, and she’d acted as if he’d asked if she took sugar in her tea. And politely refused.
It was a lucky escape. Yes, it was. He had no plans to marry, so what on earth had prompted him to make such a foolish suggestion? He rallied his wits. “Then how can I help you?”
“Thank you. Do you know any lonely old ladies?”
He blinked. “Lonely old ladies?”
“Yes. They are on my list, you see.”
“Your list?” He was all at sea.
“Yes, of jobs I could do. I don’t have sufficient education to be a governess—well, you know how I was brought up.
And though I couldn’t be a dresser, I could be a maidservant, only I’d rather not if I could help it—not because of the hard work but because of the danger of um.
. . predatory employers and older sons.”
“Absolutely.” The thought horrified him. She wouldn’t last a week. “I see you’ve given it some thought.”
“Yes. I thought I might be able to find work as a shop girl, but when I tried to find a position, nobody was interested.”
Marcus was fascinated. “You tried, did you?”
“Oh yes, I visited every shop along Oxford Street, and any others I could find, asking about a job. I must have walked miles.” She gave him a rueful smile. “Thank goodness I was wearing my most comfortable shoes.”
His mind was spinning. She was serious. She’d rather slog around the streets looking for some dreary job than to marry again. Than to marry him.
Though maybe she hadn’t realized that what he’d said was tantamount to an offer. What a relief.
It was relief he felt, he was sure.
“But I think I’d make quite a good companion for a lonely old lady,” she continued.
“Reading to her, fetching her shawls and slippers, keeping her entertained, making her life comfortable, that sort of thing. The trouble is, I hardly know anyone in society—or anywhere else for that matter—to recommend me. So, do you know any?”
“Old ladies? Yes, though off hand, I can’t think of any who are in need of a companion.” And he doubted any of them would want a beautiful, twice widowed young woman with an unsavory reputation—albeit an undeserved one.
Her face fell, and he hastened to add, “But of course I’ll ask around. My Aunt Gosforth knows dozens of old ladies. She’s bound to dig one up who will suit.”
She clasped her hands together. “Oh, that would be wonderful.” Then she sobered, adding in embarrassment, “Only it must be quick. Edgar insists that I marry Sir Henry Lester at once. He didn’t say so, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he was off at this very minute, arranging it.”
Marcus frowned. “But you said you’d refused.”
“Oh, I have, repeatedly. But Edgar doesn’t care for that.” She swallowed and added in a shamed voice, “I also refused to marry my second husband, but it made no difference.”
Marcus stared at her, appalled.
“He forced you?”
She nodded. “I think so. It’s all a bit vague. Anyway, Edgar is still insisting the marriage will go ahead. I will refuse of course, but it’s rather unpleasant to be arguing all the time and he seems to think he can force me again. So you understand why I must make haste in finding a new position.”
“Where is your brother now?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. He never tells me where he’s going or when he’ll return.”
Marcus stood up. “Very well, I’ll make the necessary arrangements. Will your brother be at home this evening?”
“Not after eight, he won’t. He goes out every night, gambling, and is rarely home before dawn. But what arrangements do you mean?”
“Excellent. Pack your things. I’ll come here at nine and collect you.”
She raised her brows. “Collect me?”
“Yes, my Aunt Gosforth arrived in London this morning. You can stay with her until we sort out something more suitable. And in the meantime, you’ll be out of Edgar’s hands, and safe.”
She hesitated. “It’s very kind of you, but it’s not necessary to discompose your aunt at the moment.”
“She won’t be discomposed.” She would, of course, but he could deal with her.
“Thank you, but no. It will take several days at least for Edgar to arrange a wedding. Apparently Sir Henry is being difficult about the settlements, which I hope will give me time to arrange something, some kind of employment.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “I prefer to be independent, you see.”
“I see.” She’d made up her mind, and he didn’t blame her. Clearly the men she’d known in the past had all let her down, and in the worst way. And her father and brother had exploited her shamefully. Why should she trust him, simply because they’d been childhood friends?
“But it’s very kind of you, and I am truly grateful.
He took her hands in his. “No need to thank me. We’ve been friends since we rescued that vixen, remember?”
She gave him a wobbly smile. “I’m not quite ready to chew off my paw yet, but if you could help me find a suitable position it’d be a huge relief.”
He lifted one of her hands and kissed it. “Now, stop worrying. I’ll speak to my aunt and see what we can come up with.”
He closed the front door and started down the street, feeling strangely invigorated for a man who’d had his first and only marriage proposal rejected.