CHAPTER 23 #3
“It is a valid question,” he said. “Are you dependent upon them? Does your happiness, your sense of self, depend upon continuing your school? If it does, you have a genuine point. You have as much right to pursue your happiness as I have to pursue mine. Fortunately, Willowgreen can be run from a distance as it has been for the past number of years. Lizzie and I will take up residence in Bath. We will live there with you.”
“Don’t be silly,” she said.
“I will be as silly as I need to be,” he said, “to make things work between us, Claudia. I was in a basically arid relationship for twelve years even though I was fond of poor Sonia—she did, after all, give me Lizzie. I came within a whisker this year of entering into a marriage that would surely have brought me active unhappiness for the rest of my life. Now suddenly, just this evening, I am free. And at last I want to choose happiness. And love.”
“Joseph,” she said, “you are an aristocrat. You will be a duke one day. My father was a country gentleman. I have been a governess or teacher for eighteen years. You cannot just give up all you are to live at the school with me.”
“I would not have to give up anything,” he said. “Nor could I if I wanted to. But one of us does not have to sacrifice our life for the sake of the other. We can both live, Claudia—and love.”
“Your father would have an apoplexy,” she said.
“Probably not,” he said. “But the matter would admittedly have to be broached carefully with him—yet firmly. I am his son, but I am also a person in my own right.”
“Your mother—”
“…would adore anyone who could make me happy,” he said.
“The Countess of Sutton—”
“Wilma can think or say or do what she likes,” he said. “My sister is certainly not going to rule my life, Claudia. Or yours. You are stronger than she is.”
“The ton—”
“…can go hang for all I care,” he said. “But there are precedents galore. Bewcastle married a country schoolteacher and got away with it. Why cannot I marry the owner and headmistress of a respected school for girls?”
“Will you let me complete a sentence?” she asked him.
“I am listening,” he said.
“I could not possibly live the life of a marchioness or a duchess,” she said. “I could not possibly mingle with the ton on a regular basis. And I could not possibly be your wife. You need heirs. I am thirty-five years old.”
“So am I,” he said. “And one heir will do. Or none. I would rather marry you and be childless apart from Lizzie than marry someone else and have twelve sons with her.”
“That sounds all very fine,” she said. “But it is not practical.”
“Good Lord, no,” he agreed. “With all those boys I would never know a moment’s peace in my own home.”
“Jo-seph!”
“Clau-dia.” He set one finger along the length of her nose and smiled at her.
A log crackled in the hearth and settled lower. The blaze began to die down. The little hut was as warm as toast inside, she realized.
“There are some problems, admittedly,” he said.
“We are from somewhat different worlds, and it seems that they would make an awkward fit. But not an impossible one—I refuse to believe it. The idea that love conquers all may seem to be a foolishly idealistic one, but I believe in it nonetheless. How can I believe otherwise? If love cannot conquer all, what can? Hatred? Violence? Despair?”
“Joseph.” She sighed. “What about Lizzie?”
“She loves you dearly,” he said. “And if you marry me and come to live with us, she does not have to fear that you will take the dog away from her.”
“It is all quite impossible, you know,” she said.
“But there is no conviction whatsoever left in your voice,” he told her. “I am winning here. Admit it.”
“Joseph.” Once more her eyes filled with tears. “This is no contest. It is impossible.”
“Let’s talk about it tomorrow,” he said.
“I’ll come over to Lindsey Hall to see Lizzie, and you and I will talk.
But perhaps you should have a word with my cousins before you leave here—Neville, Lauren, Gwen.
Perhaps you had better not talk to Wilma, though she would be able to tell you the same thing.
They will all tell you that I never played fair as a lad, that I always had to have my own way.
I was quite detestable. I still do not play fair when I want something badly enough. ”
He had snuggled closer—if that were possible—while he talked, and was now nuzzling her ear and the side of her neck while smoothing his hand over her hip and buttock and along her spine until her toes curled again.
“We had better dress and go back to the house,” she said. “It would be too shameful if everyone were ready to return to Lindsey Hall and I was nowhere to be found.”
“Mmm,” he said into her ear. “In a moment. Or several moments might be better.”
And he moved them again so that this time he was lying on his back and she was lying on top of him.
“Love me,” he said. “Never mind practicalities or impossibilities. Love me, Claudia. My love.”
She spread her legs to set her knees on either side of his hips and raised herself onto her arms to look down at him. Her hair fell forward to form a sort of curtain about them.
“Once upon a time,” she said, sighing one more time, “I thought I was a woman of firm will.”
“Am I a bad influence on you?” he asked.
“You certainly are,” she said severely.
“Good,” he said and grinned. “Love me.”
She did.