Chapter Six
David sat at the long dining room table across from Margaret and Amelia.
Lord Lanfordshire was at his left, and Lady Lanfordshire sat on the other side of her husband.
He’d already spoken to the baron, prior to the dinner, and now he intended to see if Margaret was willing to pursue a marriage with him.
He’d rehearsed his speech in his head, and everything sounded reasonable.
He had several prosperous estates and a title that any lady would welcome.
A daughter, whom Margaret could bring up to be a young lady.
And although Miss Andrews had been on the shelf for a few years, he suspected that she still wanted a titled gentleman for a husband.
Even so, he could almost imagine Katherine warning him: No. This isn’t the right woman for you.
Margaret Andrews might not be the right woman, but he believed she was the best choice. She had the knowledge necessary for Christine, and her demeanor suggested that she would keep a strict eye upon his daughter. Miss Harrow would be inclined to let Christine do as she pleased.
Thus, the decision made, he had to speak with Miss Andrews and gain her acceptance. Yet, he wasn’t precisely certain how to go about this. It seemed that he should have spoken to Margaret in private first, but she had avoided all of his attempts.
“The weather has been fine, lately,” he ventured. A moment later, he received a light kick on his shins from Amelia.
She’d kicked him? He glanced across the table, but she sent him a warning look as if to say, Don’t discuss the weather.
Well, what else am I supposed to talk about?
Anything but that! Her eyes glared.
“I am glad you were able to join us this evening, Lord Castledon.” Lady Lanfordshire smiled warmly at him.
Another kick under the table. His shin was going to be bruised if she kept this up. “It was my pleasure. I was hoping to speak with Miss Andrews about…” He paused a moment, trying to read Margaret’s face. The young woman had speared a piece of braised beef and had put it to her lips.
“About marriage,” he finished.
Margaret’s fork clattered to the plate, and she stared at Amelia. “Marriage?”
Another kick. At this, he nudged her back with his own foot. No, this wasn’t at all the best way to broach such a subject, but Margaret had left him with little choice.
“Shouldn’t this conversation take place elsewhere?” Amelia said, none too gently.
David supposed now that it was out in the open, it hardly mattered. He decided that the best way to handle the matter was to behave as if it were any other topic of discussion.
Ignoring Amelia’s advice, he stated, “I have been a widower for six years, and I have an eleven-year-old daughter who is in need of a mother to guide her. My estates are in Wales and in northern England. I also own a house here in town.”
He continued listing several assets, but Margaret’s delighted smile was on Amelia.
“Why, that’s wonderful! I had no idea that you had an affection for my sister, Lord Castledon.” She beamed at Amelia, adding, “It will be an adjustment, of course, but Amelia, you would make a wonderful stepmother.”
This wasn’t going at all as he’d expected.
“Actually, I was referring to you, Miss Andrews,” he said to Margaret.
“I had hoped to discuss it in private, but there was no earlier opportunity.” Because she’d found every excuse in the universe to avoid him.
It didn’t bode well for an acceptance of the proposal, but he wanted to hope that she would consider it.
“I believe we’ve become friends,” he continued, “and I think perhaps we could build a marriage upon it. If you had any wish for a child, a stepdaughter perhaps—”
Another kick beneath the table. This time, he directed his own glare toward Amelia. He didn’t know what she was trying to tell him, but her disapproval wasn’t exactly subtle.
Margaret had gone pale, staring at him. “I think you’re right. We should discuss this in private.”
“I, for one, believe it would make a sound match,” Lord Lanfordshire declared. “I would give my blessing upon the marriage, should you agree, Margaret. And after all these years, it’s high time.”
Her father made it sound as if she had one foot in the grave. Margaret’s dismay was palpable, and David offered her an escape. “Would you like to talk now?”
“Please. And Amelia can come along as our chaperone.” Margaret stood from her chair, folding her napkin.
Given the dismayed look on Amelia’s face, she didn’t want to come at all. “One of the maids could act as chaperone,” she argued. “Or Mother.”
“Oh, no. You are most definitely coming with us.” Margaret was adamant and refused to take another step until Amelia followed.
She led them both up the stairs to another sitting room.
Only when the door was left slightly ajar did she speak.
“You took me by surprise, Lord Castledon. I thought it was Amelia who had caught your attention.”
She appeared flustered, as if she didn’t know what to say or do. Before he could reassure her that it was merely an arrangement, Amelia intervened. “Asking Margaret across the dinner table was not wise. She might have choked.”
“I highly doubt that.” David remained standing and went to study Margaret. “I’m a forthright sort of man, and I’m in need of a wife and helpmate.”
“And what of your daughter? Does she know of this?” Margaret rested her hand against the wall. Her expression made it seem that she was disconcerted by his proposition.
“It was Christine’s idea,” he admitted. “And I don’t think it would surprise you to learn that Amelia also thought you would make a good wife. Your name was on the list she provided.”
“You don’t love me,” Margaret said. It appeared to be yet another reason why she was avoiding the prospect.
Was love so important to her? He’d thought she was a sensible sort, but now he wondered.
“No, I don’t love you,” he admitted. “But you don’t love me, either. Both of us are past our younger days. We’re beyond the need for a fierce passion.”
That sounded like a reasonable argument. And he really could provide for her in a way that would make her life enjoyable. He had no debts, and his estates were prosperous.
“Shall I go and fetch canes for the pair of you?” Amelia interjected. “You make Margaret sound decrepit. She’s not, you know.”
“I never said that. But she is not as impulsive as some women.” He sent her a pointed look.
“She deserves a love match,” Amelia said. “Are you prepared to love her the way you should? Or will you continue to pine for Saint Katherine?”
Her words were a lighted match to his temper. “You have no right to speak of my wife.” How did she dare to dredge up the past, making him sound like a martyr? He still loved Katherine, yes, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t treat a new wife with respect.
“Margaret deserves better than a life where she’s constantly compared to someone else.” Amelia was hardly more than a hand’s distance from his face, and her own anger was palpable. Her cheeks were red, and her green eyes blazed as if she were contemplating striking him across the jaw.
“I’m still here,” Margaret reminded them. “And Amelia, though I know you’re trying to defend me, I have no need of it.” She gently pulled her younger sister away, and Amelia seemed to realize what she was doing. Although she fell silent, her eyes were seething with rage.
“I am prepared to give you several estates to manage, a daughter to raise, and enough money to spend however you choose,” David told Margaret. “It’s more than most of the other gentlemen could offer.”
Margaret regarded him, “And what do you hope to get from me?”
She deserved honesty, and he admitted, “This marriage is for Christine’s benefit, not mine. There is nothing I need.”
Margaret held his gaze, but then she risked a glance back at Amelia. “I would have to think about it.”
“That’s all I ask. You can let me know your decision within a few days.”
With that settled, some of the tension dissipated. It was a reasonable response, and he hoped Margaret would agree to the marriage.
Amelia sat down upon a settee, while her older sister departed the room. Before he could follow, she blurted out, “That was the worst proposal I’ve ever heard in my life. She ought to turn you down.”
No one could accuse Amelia of veiling her true beliefs. David stopped short and turned back to her. “And how do you think I should have proposed?”
“You should have spoken kind words to her, telling her what a wonderful young woman she is. Every woman wants to believe that a man loves her, even if it isn’t true. And some flowers wouldn’t have been amiss.”
“I think you have enough flowers,” he said, eyeing the numerous bouquets around the room.
“Well, offering for her across the table wasn’t the best way to get her attention.”
He knew that. But neither did he intend to lead Margaret astray, letting her believe there was hope for a love match. This would be an arrangement, nothing more.
“Were you hoping she would refuse?” Amelia asked suddenly. Her tone had gone softer, and though he was about to say no, he wondered if perhaps she was right. He didn’t want to marry again, though he’d agreed to do so, on Christine’s behalf.
“You and I both know the reason for this marriage. It’s meant to be a sensible arrangement to benefit both parties. She would get all the freedom and wealth she desires, and my daughter would get a mother.”
“And you would withhold yourself, keeping far away from her, would you not?”
“We would be friends,” he insisted. Surely they could have a pleasant existence together, particularly if Margaret developed an affection for Christine.
“And what of future children?” she asked.
The moment she spoke of it, he tried to imagine himself sharing Margaret’s bed. The image wouldn’t fit at all, but his wayward imagination conjured up the vision of Amelia lying upon tangled sheets, her hair covering her naked skin.