Anne O'Brien (10 page)

‘What proposition?’

‘And if you do make it, it will make it impossible for me to stay under your roof in any event. Please do not, my lord. I beg of you…’

‘Do not what…?’ His frown darkened as the light dawned.

‘I will not be your mistress, my lord,’ Sarah whispered. ‘How would you think it?’

‘Mrs Russell!’ He fisted his hands on his hips, more in frustration than anger. Oh, God! So much for reputations. When he had tried to deal with the whole matter with some sensitivity. ‘Is that what you thought I would offer you?’

‘Why…yes. What other could you possibly offer me?’

He took her hand again, both of them, in fact, removing the list to discard it on the floor, and drew her to her feet. This time he held on when she tugged. ‘Mrs Russell—it would be the greatest discourtesy imaginable to you to suggest such a thing. It was not my intention to offer to take you under my protection. Your opinion of me is not very high, is it?’
And nor of yourself. How can you have so little notion of the light in which I see you? Of the respect in which I hold you?

‘But… You must explain more clearly, my lord, for I find myself at a loss. If you do not want me as your mistress—and, indeed, I find it difficult to understand why you would!—then what?’

‘I realise that you could believe me capable of inflicting so monumental an insult on your good name.’ He made no attempt to hide the bitter self-disgust. ‘But it was not my intention to do so. Mrs Russell…’ He might as well get it over with and allow her the pleasure of refusing him. How could any woman of integrity be persuaded to accept the offer of marriage from a man with so damaged a reputation? But he would try, beyond hope, to paint himself in a better light. Suddenly it had become very important that he remove her from her self-imposed role below stairs and restore her to the ranks of society into which she had been born. And something more, which he barely understood, could certainly not acknowledge, drove him on. But whatever the compulsion, he knew that it was underpinned by an overwhelming need to protect Sarah Russell. So he would offer her marriage, even though she would undoubtedly fling the gesture back in his face.

‘Mrs Russell. Will you do me the honour of accepting my hand in marriage?’

Shock drove the colour from her cheeks, even from her lips. Her hands stiffened within his grasp and her lips parted on a little cry of sheer disbelief. Much as he had expected!

‘You cannot!’

‘Why can I not?’

‘You do not know me. You do not love me. You could marry anyone of your acquaintance.’ Sarah sought through her tumbling thoughts for all the reasons why his words must be false. ‘You do not want me. Why, in heaven’s name, would you wish to marry me? I am your housekeeper.’

Sarah Russell! Have you no thought of your own value in the eyes of any man?

‘You seem to have an entire list of reasons why I should not. Let me tell you of the advantages for me as I see them. I think I would get an excellent bargain.’

‘What could I possibly offer you?’

‘If we are to be purely practical, then—the running of my establishments. No trivial matter, as I have a house in Richmond and an estate in Yorkshire. A mother to my child, whom I think you already have some affection for. The removal of one serious cause of conflict—only one of many, I acknowledge—that would stand for ever between myself and my own parent and sister if I continued to employ you as my housekeeper. Also— ’But he bit back on further revelations. What other could he say, when he was so unsure himself? He smiled down into her anxious face. ‘Enough! I have a care for your happiness. I think that marriages have been made with far less to recommend them.’

‘I cannot allow you to even consider it, my lord.’ She would have clutched her hands in dismay except that he still had them in his possession, so her fingers tightened around his. ‘I do not want charity. I refused it from your sister. I left New York because it would have been too easy to accept it from Lord Henry and Eleanor. I will not take it from you!’

‘I expect Henry in New York found you just as difficult to deal with as I do! I wonder how he coped with your uncomfortable desire for independence! Listen to me. Will you at least think about it? I have no intention of offering you charity, as you put it. There are considerable advantages for myself and for you in such a match. I can offer you comfort, respectabil
ity’—he winced inwardly—‘a home for yourself and your son with no more fears for the future. Will you at least consider it?’

He would have raised her captive hands to his lips, but she tugged them free at last, to rub her damp palms down the skirts of her gown. She shook her head, took a step in retreat.

Which Lord Faringdon accepted and made a little bow. ‘Mrs Russell—you owe me that at least you will think about my offer, as my employee. I would ask you not to reject it out of hand. I think that would be…fair.’

She heard the hint of a plea in his voice and for that moment, her treacherous heart picking up its beat, she could not doubt the sincerity in his outrageous offer. Of course she must consider it. Even if she could do nothing other than refuse it. Because, however much her heart, in its secret depths, might desire such an outcome, her common sense told her that it could never be. But since he had appealed to her sense of justice—with a certain low cunning—she must comply. She acknowledged the inclination of his head with a graceful curtsy. ‘Very well, my lord. I agree that your proposition demands my consideration. I will think about it. I will give my answer tomorrow.’

Abandoning the suddenly irrelevant list of courses and their appropriate side dishes on the floor, she almost fled from the room.

Leaving his lordship with the thought that, although he had pressured her into not refusing his offer out of hand, he still had no confidence that she would accept. And that perhaps he had done too well in creating a reputation for himself, which no honourable woman would willingly take on. Remembering the shock—the outrage—at his offer and her readiness to believe that he would humiliate her by taking her as his mistress, he suffered an unaccustomed sense of hurt, but firmed his lips against it. It was his own fault and he must live with the consequences.

It was no surprise at all to Sarah that she spent a sleepless night.

Disbelief refused to let her rest. A proposal of marriage. Lord
Faringdon’s
wife
! She might as well have wished for the moon. As a lady of neat and fairly predictable habits she sat in her room before a dying fire with a pen and paper and prepared to compose two lists, absorbing the quietness around her. Aware of her son sleeping next door. And Beth in her own room. All was comfort and luxury. Warmth and security. Yet nameless anxieties and indecision gnawed at her mind, troubled her heart. What would it be like to put herself into Joshua Faringdon’s power? To give him the rights of a husband over her, to allow him to take her to his bed? Sarah shivered a little despite the warmth of the fire. It was unimaginable.

She put pen to paper to write in her careful flowing script.

Why I should not even contemplate marriage to Lord Faringdon.

1. It would be accepting an offer of charity.

She had told Judith that she would make her own way in the world. And promised herself that she would never again be dependent on the whims or desires of any man. She nodded agreement with her first point.

2. He has an undesirable reputation as a rake. It would not be a respectable marriage.

Well, that was certainly true. She had seen him with the Countess of Wexford in a situation that gave credence to all rumours about their relationship. Living in the same house together, they had flouted all convention. Then there were the opera dancers. Not that she had seen any, of course. As for what had occurred in Paris… No, Sarah decided, she was far too conventional to consider such a liaison with a man who had cast aside the honour of a gentleman.

3. What is Lord Faringdon’s reason for his proposal?

She had no idea and it worried her. As she had said to his face, he could marry anyone he chose. A mama of a hopeful débutante might consider overlooking his disreputable past if he was willing to bestow his wealth and his title on her daughter. So why should he want to marry
her?
She was
five-and-
twenty
years old and a widow with a son. She frowned at her list. She did not want to be in the hands of a man who might use her for his own ends—a legacy of Edward’s treatment of her. She should undoubtedly refuse Lord Faringdon’s offer. She wrote again.

4. I have nothing of my own to bring to this marriage.

Her mind repeated her written words. She would bring nothing of her own to the marriage. No money, property or connection. No beauty or superior intelligence. No dramatic traits of character as did her sister Theodora. She did not care to admit it, but honesty forced her to do so. She appeared to be a very dull—a very ordinary—person, which once again caused her to nibble the end of her pen with unease—until she threw it down in disgust. Only to pick it up to add one final flourish.

5. He does not love me.

That was not a matter on which she cared to dwell.

These were very strong arguments, Sarah was forced to agree. So she would refuse Lord Faringdon’s kind but inexplicable offer. Which decision caused her to pick up her ill-treated pen once more and a clean sheet of paper.

Why I should accept the offer and become Lady Joshua Faringdon.

A lot of thought was required here. It was not a list as easily begun as the previous one. But at last she began.

1. Security.

For herself and for her son. She would never again have to worry over the future and whether she would have the means to put a roof over John’s head or clothes on his back. And there would be so many advantages for him. John would be able to have a horse of his own and— She stopped her mind dwelling on such material trivialities to return to the matter in hand.

2. Beth.

She would have the continued care of Beth, which she would enjoy as a mother, not merely a governess. She would enjoy a daughter.

3. I can renew my friendship with Judith and Simon.

That would be good. And she would not have Thea bearing down on her, demanding to know what she was about. Sarah smiled. She would have liked to talk to Thea about this whole unbelievable situation.

Then pursed her lips. She had told Judith that she would only marry again for love. For nothing less. With a sharp inhalation she rubbed ink from her fingers. Then, before she could change her mind, she wrote:

4. I love him.

As she closed her eyes against her admission, written there for all to see, the image came into her mind, startlingly clear. The sharp planes and angles of his face, the beauty of his eyes, which silvered when he smiled and they caught the light, the dense metallic pewter of his hair. The elegance of his figure, even though he still struggled with pain and discomfort. How very splendid he was. How he caused her breath to shorten and her mouth to dry—foolish woman that she was! And there was also his kindness to her and to John. And that extra quality, which drew her emotions inexorably to him, however much against her will. So what if he was a heartless rake and a libertine? He had never been heartless in his dealings with her. What if he could never love her? She could love him and live with him as his wife. She could certainly keep him out of the talons of avaricious women such as Olivia Wexford. His title and his wealth meant nothing to her. But the chance to be his wife, to be near him, meant everything.

Sarah sat and simply looked at the two lists, one beside the other, measuring and discarding. It was the matter of her dependence—or lack of it—that was the thing, she decided. And the Countess of Wexford, of course. She would be foolish to deny that! She bared her teeth in a fair imitation of a snarl as she recalled the lady’s smug complacence when she placed her slender fingers on Joshua’s wrist, demanding all his attention, to the exclusion of all else. But perhaps there were ways around
such obstacles if she really wished… A little smile curved her lips, a bubble of excitement erupted in her blood. She hugged herself. Perhaps after all… Then rose to her feet to consign both lists to the flames, watching as they disintegrated into ash.

Next day Mrs Russell duly requested an interview with Lord Faringdon and wasted no time.

‘I have thought of your proposal, my lord. I made a list.’

‘A list? I see.’ Or perhaps he didn’t. What an unexpectedly fascinating woman she was. ‘And your decision?’

‘I will accept. I will marry you if that is your wish.’

Lord Joshua tightened his muscles against the sudden and unexpected surge of satisfaction at her words. He had not, in all honesty, thought it a possible outcome.

‘But I would make a suggestion,’ his housekeeper continued before he could reply.

‘Ah…’ Now what on earth…?

‘I think we should consider a contract before we make our final decision.’

‘Well, if you wish it…’ He tried not to allow the puzzlement to appear on his face, in his voice. ‘Do you not trust me to deal with you fairly as my wife? Of course there will be a legal contract, a binding settlement to ensure the future of yourself and John.’

‘No—I did not mean that… I know that you will do everything that is right in way of a settlement. I meant something in the way of a more
personal
contract—what we expect from each other and from our marriage to each other—if you take my meaning,’ It was suddenly very difficult to explain. She looked at him with anxiety, praying for understanding.

Lord Faringdon experienced a sharp tug of amusement, but he would not dare to laugh while faced with this most serious lady. ‘If that is what you wish,’ he agreed, a little warily. ‘But why?’

‘You may not wish to marry me when you see what I would hope for.’

‘I see.’ Again he didn’t, but he would allow her to have her own way.