Chapter Four
Jerome climbed the steps of the Countess of Esberry’s Conduit Street house with mixed feelings in his breast. As the two of them occupied the same social circles, they came across each other on a regular basis, and somewhere in the last twelve months they had developed a friendship of sorts.
A mildly flirtatious one, conducted as much for their mutual amusement in keeping the ton guessing as anything else.
Since he was known to conduct discreet liaisons with widows, the polite world had concluded this was another.
But the refusal of both parties to admit to it and the longevity of their continued acquaintance had set tongues wagging in a different direction toward the close of the little season last year.
Jerome, sensitive to what was said of him, despite his carefully cultivated air of indifference to public opinion, had for so many years set his face against marriage that it took a while for the gossips to suspect that the untrappable marquess might have met his match.
It was over this last Christmas that he gave serious thought to the need to finally knuckle under and marry.
He had been unconsciously holding off, he realized, until Ava was satisfactorily settled.
With the news of her impending engagement to Haldane, the last of his excuses were washed away.
He had to marry, and he needed a wife who would understand the rules of a marriage of convenience, for he wasn’t free to offer anything else.
The woman he wanted, he couldn’t have. He’d made up his mind to that two years ago when he realized he’d fallen in love with the unattainable.
Ava. And that disastrous lapse at Lady Bellingham’s ball had only confirmed in his mind that he must stay away from Ava.
His loss of control, on that occasion, shamed him.
The discovery he had made in her second season that she had long nursed a girlish infatuation for him made it worse, for it underlined just how young and innocent she was; and that kiss would have confused her even more.
It was cruel. Recalling it made him feel sick with shame.
For she was in love with an illusion, with the facade of perfection he projected to the world.
If she knew what lurked behind that facade, she would run a mile in terror and revulsion.
The fact that Ava had half of London’s eligible bachelors at her feet did not give him any comfort.
She could have had her pick last year. He had lived in daily expectation of one of them securing her mercurial interest. And he had prayed that that someone would be closer to her own age, someone steady and reliable, who would love her as she ought to be loved.
Haldane seemed to fit the bill perfectly.
He’d found, however, that knowing Haldane was her perfect match didn’t stop him from longing for her, being consumed with jealousy.
Adorable, irrepressible, joyful, rebellious, and willfully stubborn Ava.
He was as well acquainted with her faults as her virtues, and he loved all of both.
But she wasn’t for him, he reminded himself yet again.
He was too old for her, for one thing. For another, he’d been like a brother to her all her life.
But the most immutable objection was one she knew nothing of.
And he hoped, for vanity’s sake, she never would.
For he would die a kind of death to see her admiration of him wither and be replaced by revulsion and horror.
He shook off the melancholy thoughts. He must put Ava out of his mind and concentrate on the woman he had come here today to see.
Isabella deserved that. He might not be able to offer her his heart, but he could offer her everything else.
His admiration and esteem, his respect, his title, his wealth, and the protection of his name.
In return, he hoped she would offer him an heir and companionship as he slipped (somewhat rebelliously) into middle age.
She received him in her front parlor with her companion Miss Esme Cartwright, a cousin of some sort who had come to live with her once she became a widow.
Miss Cartwright was in her forties, a diminutive mouse of a woman with a propensity to chatter.
He supposed if Isabella accepted his proposal, he would need to address what to do with Miss Cartwright.
He didn’t wish to have her living with them, but perhaps they could put her in the dower house.
His mother had been dead since he was twelve, so there was no one to live in it now, and it was in a parlous state.
Along with the rest of the estate. Another thing he had long neglected.
The ladies rose at his entrance and dropped him graceful curtsies. Or at least Isabella’s was graceful; Miss Cartwright’s was more of a bob.
“To what do we owe this pleasure, my lord?” asked Isabella in her soft contralto.
He smiled his charming smile and bent over her hand. “I was hoping for a few moments of your time. Alone?”
Isabella was no fool, and she gave him an assessing look before she said, “Esme, could you see about the tea, please?”
“Of course, Bella,” said Esme with another bob and a look in her eyes that Jerome found hard to read. Was it fear?
“Please have a seat, my lord,” she said, resuming hers on the sofa.
He debated whether to take the seat opposite lately occupied by Miss Cartwright, and decided a more intimate approach was required, given his mission.
Seating himself beside Isabella, he said, “I think you can guess the reason for my call?”
She cocked her head, which showed her long neck to advantage, and smiled a soft smile. “I might, but I think it would be immodest to admit it.”
“Can I venture to say we have formed a kind of friendship these last twelve months?”
“You can,” she said composedly.
“Then I can be frank with you.”
“I hope you will be.”
Never at a loss socially as a rule, he was finding this harder than he had thought it would be. But there was really no point in beating around the bush. “I wonder if you would do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
She watched his face as he spoke, and he wondered what it revealed, for she dropped her eyes to her lap where her hands smoothed the fabric of her gown over her knees. It was the only sign of her agitation. She was as good at masking her feelings as he was.
Returning her gaze to his face she asked, “Why me and not a young miss?”
“I think you know the answer to that. I don’t want a young miss.”
She pursed her lips knowingly and said, “The gossips are all touting a match between Ava Layne and Haldane. But no doubt you’ve heard all about it from Troubridge?”
He flushed in spite of himself but said as composedly as he could, “Yes, it will be an excellent match for Lady Ava. I’ve known her since she was a child, and I wish her every happiness. Haldane is a good man.”
“Why the sudden desire to marry now?” she asked.
“It’s not sudden. I’ve been thinking of it for some time.”
She nodded and said carefully, “I’ll ask again. Why me?”
“We deal well together, I think?”
“We do.”
“You have all the attributes any man could want in a wife, Isabella. Beauty, birth, grace, intelligence, wit, and strength of character. I admire you a great deal and I would hope we wouldn’t bore each other to death.”
“No, I don’t think we would bore each other, Jerome. But I’ve yet to hear anything that would tempt me to change my current state. I’m quite happy as I am, you see.”
“You’re not lonely?”
“I am not. I have friends to ameliorate that, you see. I counted you as one of those. Will you withdraw your friendship if I reject your offer?”
“I’m not so churlish,” he said, his heart sinking at the trend of the conversation.
“But what can I say to persuade you to consider my offer?” He reached for her hand, and she let him take it.
“As husband and wife, we would be more than friends. Does that prospect hold no allure for you? Do you not miss that intimacy that comes with marriage?”
She flushed, her eyes dropping, and he was aware of a subtle vulnerability in her that he had not detected before. “Does it make me unnatural to say no, I do not?”
“It suggests to me that you did not find the felicity you deserved in your previous marriage and are therefore wary of entering into another contract.”
“That is a fair assessment,” she admitted. His pulse quickened with a spurt of anger. Had her husband used her badly? Were all men beasts? Himself included? No, for his friends were not, as evidenced by their happy marriages.
“Forgive me, I am going to be indelicate.” He paused and squeezed her hand lightly.
“Isabella, I can safely say you would enjoy intimacy with me, for I would make sure it was so.” He added, “You must know that my reason for entering into a marriage contract is the need for an heir. I cannot offer you a celibate marriage, and frankly, I would not wish to. I would hope to offer you motherhood. Is that not something you desire?”
“It is,” she admitted. “Although I had thought to give up any hope of it after five years of trying and failing. Given your desire for an heir, I am not the best choice for you, my lord. I am likely unable to bear children.”
“The fault may have lain with your husband. He was considerably older than you, was he not?”
“Yes. Since we are being so frank, he did have some difficulties in that regard. But we did persist. I suffered two miscarriages. So, you see, I may not be the wife you want at all.”
He kissed her hand. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.” She looked away, but it didn’t disguise the pain she suffered and kept hidden from the world.
“Will you at least think about it?” he said.
She looked at him, a slightly puzzled look in her eyes. “You would still pursue this, after what I said?”
“Yes.” He paused. “There are many reasons for miscarriages that we cannot possibly know of. My mother suffered many. Yet she birthed two healthy children who lived to adulthood, myself and my sister. I would be far more concerned about our ability to have an heir together if you had never conceived at all.”
A slight, wistful smile curled her lips. “Very well, I will think about it.”
He nodded and kissed her hand again. And then her cheek. “I am going away for a few weeks—my estate in Northumberland requires some attention. When I return, I will hope to have a positive answer from you.”
He rose just as Miss Cartwright came back into the room. With a bow to both ladies he took his leave and left the house.
He couldn’t say he was happy, but he felt a little more settled.
He knew what he needed to do now, and he was determined to do it.
The past two years of agonized yearning for something he couldn’t have were at an end.
He was hopeful that Isabella would agree to his proposal when she’d had time to consider it, but even if she didn’t, he was set on this course now and would find another candidate.
But first he needed to put his house in order.
He had neglected Ravenshaw abominably. The place held dark memories for him, and he’d been avoiding them for years.
It was time he faced up to them and dealt with the past once and for all.