‘Very laudable. Only I would have thought that a curate’s wife might need to be above reproach?’
‘Perhaps, but if he’s the man I believe he is then he’ll understand and forgive me.’
‘He sounds quite the paragon.’ Cassius felt a flicker of irritation. ‘Did you try imagining it, by the way?’
Her eyes shot to his and then quickly away again. ‘I’ve no idea what you mean.’
‘I think you do. Did you imagine kissing him?’
‘That question is impertinent.’
‘Extremely, but you still haven’t answered. Did you imagine kissing him?’
‘No, as it happens.’
‘Is that so?’ He felt smugly pleased by the answer. ‘And why not?’
‘Because I haven’t got around to it yet.’
‘You’ve had time.’
‘I’ve been busy.’
‘Or perhaps you’re still putting it off?’
‘Perhaps it’s none of your business!’
‘Millie.’ He stretched an arm out, blocking the way as she made to move past him. ‘Forgive me, I didn’t come here to tease you. I came to ask you to marry me.’
‘I know...’ her eyelashes fluttered closed ‘...but I’m afraid I have to decline.’
‘On what grounds?’ He lowered his arm again. ‘The other night you said that you needed to be practical to avoid being destitute. I would have thought that marrying a marquess was nothing if not practical.’
‘It would be extremely practical. Indeed, it’s a very good offer and I’m grateful to you for making it, but I still have to say no. Practicality needs to work both ways and what could I possibly bring to a marriage with you? I may be poor, but I still have my pride.’ She opened her eyes again. They looked very clear and bright, like unblemished emeralds. ‘Most of all, however, I don’t want to trap you. I was the one who made the foolish decision to walk home on my own in the snow and I was the one who turned up on your doorstep. That means I am the one who ought to face the consequences.’ She tilted her chin upwards. ‘All of this was my doing and I refuse to let you pay the price!’
‘Pay the price?’ He lifted an eyebrow suspiciously. ‘Are you being self-sacrificing again?’
‘If one of us needs to make a sacrifice, then it should be me.’
‘So you’ll marry your Gilbert instead?’
‘If he’ll still take me then, yes.’ She sounded exasperated, as if her reasoning ought to be obvious. ‘Gilbert asked me to marry him of his own free will. You’re only here because your honour compels you to be. I appreciate that fact, truly, but I refuse to force any man into marriage. I’d rather that my reputation was ruined!’
‘But I wouldn’t.’ He folded his arms, surprised by his own persistence. Given that she’d just offered him an escape route—she’d even agreed to marry another man!—he ought to be halfway back to Falconmore Hall and basking in a sense of relief by now. Only for some reason he was still there and determined not to let her marry someone else either. ‘You forget that both our reputations are at stake, Miss Fairclough. Yours might not mean a great deal to you, but mine does to me. I consider that a rather important consideration, too.’
‘Yes, but...’
‘And what if your Gilbert doesn’t want to marry you, are you really prepared to be a social pariah for the rest of your life? Because that’s what you’ll be. All because of one small indiscretion. Personally I don’t believe that to be fair.’
‘Well, no...’
‘Then are those your only objections, that you believe you’ve trapped me into marriage and that you think you can’t offer me anything in return?’
‘I...’ She looked taken aback for a few seconds and then put her hands on her hips. ‘No! You lied to me!’
‘Did I?’ He frowned. ‘Ah, about being an estate manager. I like to think it was more of an exaggeration.’
‘I believe that’s what a lawyer might call a technicality.’
‘You might be right, but I do manage my estate in a way and I’ve found that most people, young ladies especially, tend to speak somewhat differently to a marquess.’
‘I wouldn’t have.’
‘I believe you. That’s a big part of the reason I’m still here. I believe they call it integrity. Which is something you can bring to our marriage, incidentally.’
‘But you’re a marquess and I don’t think you quite understand who I am. My father was cast out of his family for marrying beneath him. My mother’s father was an inventor, respectable but somewhat eccentric. Then my parents set up a charitable institution for women in need. That means all kinds of women, Mr Whitlock, from all kinds of backgrounds. Do you really wish to be associated with such a place?’
‘I believe the more pertinent question is whether you believe me to be a heartless monster?’ He felt irritation give way to anger.
‘I didn’t mean to imply...’
‘None the less, you just did. If you believe that maintaining a veneer of aristocratic dignity means more to me than philanthropy, then I believe that’s exactly what you just implied.’
‘You’re right.’ Her brows puckered. ‘I shouldn’t have judged you, but you still ought to know the truth. The rest of your family might not approve of me.’
‘The rest of my family consists of one maternal great-aunt and some distant cousins in Devon. I’ve met the aunt once and the cousins not at all. Their opinion is perfectly irrelevant to me.’
‘What about your cousin’s widow? Doesn’t she live with you?’
‘She and her daughters, yes, but they’ll accept it.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes.’ His lips curved with a flash of sardonic humour. ‘In fact, Sylvia’s constantly suggesting I ought to get married. At least this ought to silence her on the subject.’
‘But Lord Falconmore—Cassius—do you want to marry me?’
He drew in a breath and then let it go again. ‘No. To be perfectly honest with you, Miss Fairclough, no, I do not.’
‘There you go, then.’
‘However, it is my duty to marry some day, or so I’ve been told anyway. This may be sooner than I would have liked, but I’m sure I’ll get used to the idea.’
‘But you could marry someone more suitable. Someone more suited to you, too. We barely know each other. For all we know we might be completely incompatible.’
‘Not completely, I think.’ He reached for her hands though they appeared to be curled into tight balls. ‘As for finding someone more suitable, I’m afraid that doesn’t sound like something I’d enjoy at all. Dinner parties and trips to the theatre and all that.’ He started to unfurl her fingers one by one. ‘Besides, I don’t see why I should go out looking for a prospective bride when I have a perfectly good candidate standing right in front of me.’
He held on to her gaze, somewhat taken aback to realise the words he was saying were true. ‘I admit that our situation isn’t ideal. Neither of us intended for this to happen, but it has and now all we can do is make the best of it. I can’t offer you my heart. In all honesty, I don’t believe I have one to give. I’m not capable of love any longer, but if you agree to marry me then I promise to respect and honour and be faithful to you for the rest of our lives.’ He gave an ironical smile. ‘You said yourself that plenty of marriages succeed without love. I enjoyed your company the other evening and I believe that you enjoyed mine. Given time, I think we might get along very well together.’
‘Yes.’ She sounded surprised by her own admission. ‘I think we might, too.’
‘Good.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘The blunt truth is that I intend to make a sizeable donation to your Foundation whether or not you intend to marry me.’
‘You don’t have t—’
‘But I will, enough that you don’t have to marry anyone if you don’t want to, but gossip
won’t just go away.’ He squeezed her hands. ‘What do you say then, Just Millie? Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’
She was so still that for an alarming moment it looked as if she’d stopped breathing. And for some reason, he was holding his breath, too...
‘Yes,’ she answered at last, though her lips barely moved. ‘Yes, I will.’
Chapter Eight
It was funny, Millie thought, the difference a name could make. If Cassius had called her Amelia, then she would have continued to refuse his proposal. She would have thanked him again, but said that she couldn’t in all conscience accept it, especially since he’d just freely admitted that he didn’t want a wife. Miss Amelia Fairclough’s future was in London. That was where she belonged and where she would dutifully remain, no matter what the damage to her reputation. And if Gilbert didn’t want to marry a ruined woman, then she would remain a spinster and rebuild her reputation day by day through a life of good work and virtue. But Cassius hadn’t called her Amelia. He’d called her Millie. And Millie Fairclough was prone to following her instincts and inclinations no matter what her prim-and-proper alter ego might tell her to do. Only she would have the nerve to say yes.
So she’d said yes. Which had brought her here to the Malverlys’ drawing room, standing stock-still in front of her family while Cassius formally announced the news of their engagement. What had she done?
She was aware of a disorientated feeling as if the two sides of herself were fighting for dominance inside her own head. Cassius was holding her arm as if to steady her, which was fortunate since she was feeling very unsteady indeed. Internally, she was a quivering mass of unsteadiness, as if her insides—her very self—was rearranging itself. There had been so many reasons to say no to his proposal, but the longer he’d talked, the more persuasive his arguments had become until finally the way he’d held her hand, squeezing her fingers softly between his, had caused the last of her resistance to crumble. Shameful as it was to admit it, the pressure of his touch on her skin had caused such a spine-tingling physical effect that she might have agreed to almost anything, but added to that he’d called her Millie, appealing to the selfish side of her that had suddenly wanted, very much, to say yes.
Not that she’d allowed feeling to overcome reason completely, she assured herself. Given the circumstances, marrying him was the sensible thing to do and it was still a sacrifice of sorts since she was going to have to leave her home and family and move to the country. Even if it didn’t seem like very much of a sacrifice since she did like him, she could imagine kissing him and she was going to be a marchioness, for pity’s sake! He was the one sacrificing his freedom, not to mention the chance of making an advantageous match with somebody of his own class. No matter which way she looked at it, she was being selfish, but he was right, she hadn’t intended to trap him and she didn’t want to be a social pariah for the rest of her life. Perhaps all they could do was make the best of it.
‘Congratulations to you both!’ George was the first to stand up and offer his hand. ‘Is it too early for champagne, do you think?’
‘By several hours, dear, yes.’ Alexandra’s tone was less effusive, though she still managed to produce a smile. Unlike her mother, Millie noticed.
‘I still appreciate the sentiment, sir.’ Cassius took the proffered hand with what appeared to be genuine good humour. Standing at her side he looked almost too good to be true, the perfect model of a fiancé. Tall, slender and almost ridiculously handsome, with arguably the finest bone structure she’d ever seen and one errant lock of gold hair that persisted in curling forward over his forehead, he looked more like a character from some romantic novel than a real man of flesh and blood. Not to mention muscle, judging by the form-fitting cut of his suit. There was only one thing spoiling the picture. One sentence in fact. I’m not capable of love any longer... What kind of romantic hero would say that?
‘You’re a lucky fellow, Falconmore, that’s all I have to say.’ George pumped his hand a few times. ‘Between you and me, this one’s always been my favourite. One of the best backgammon players I’ve ever met, too. Beats me nine times out of ten.’
‘Indeed?’ Cassius’s gaze darted towards her, flickering with interest and amusement. ‘Then I look forward to playing with you, Millie.’
‘I...’ her tongue felt oddly frozen, as if there were a block of ice sitting on top of it ‘...yes.’
‘But now I’m afraid I must leave you to make the arrangements.’ He finally succeeded in retrieving his hand from George. ‘I’ll need to ride to London to procure a special licence.’
‘A special licence?’ her mother and cousin exclaimed at the same moment though he appeared nonplussed.
‘Yes. We’ve decided to marry as soon as possible, before the end of the week hopefully. I trust that should put an end to all the gossip. With your permission of course, Mrs Fairclough?’
‘Of course, if Millie’s agreed...?’ Her mother’s enquiring expression suggested that she was waiting for her daughter to contradict the statement. ‘Well then, I’ve no reason to object. I trust my daughter’s judgement.’
‘In that case, I’ll leave at once, but perhaps you’d care to join me and my cousin-in-law for tea at Falconmore Hall the day after tomorrow?’
‘We’d be delighted.’ There was a brief but definite pause before Alexandra answered for all of them.
‘Excellent. Then I can show you around your new home, Millie.’ He let go of her arm and took hold of her hands again, smiling into her eyes. ‘You can tell me if it passes muster.’
‘Yes.’ It was all she could manage to say.
What on earth was the matter with her tongue?
‘Until Tuesday then.’ He lifted one hand to his mouth, though this time his lips only skimmed the surface. ‘I’ll look forward to it.’
Millie waited until he’d left the room, then until the front door had closed, then until the sound of his horse’s hooves had finally faded before putting her hands to her face and peeping out through her fingers.
‘I don’t know!’
Her mother and cousin rushed forward at once.
‘What don’t you know, dearest?’ Her mother was at her side first.
‘How it happened!’
‘Never mind how.’ George sounded as jovial as ever. ‘It’s all worked out rather well, I’d say.’
‘Honestly, darling.’ Alexandra gave him a pointed look. ‘If you can’t say anything helpful, then perhaps you ought to go for a walk.’
‘Eh? What did I say?’
‘Millie’s trapped in an engagement with a man she’s only just met!’
‘A marquess.’
‘Yes, well, it could have been worse, but no one wants to be trapped into marriage.’
Millie groaned aloud.
‘Are you sure about this, dear?’ Her mother’s tone was sympathetic. ‘You can still change your mind if you’re not certain.’
‘I don’t know what I am. I told him all the reasons why it’s a bad idea. I even told him that I’d prefer to marry Gilbert, but he said it was a matter of honour. Now I don’t know if it’s the right thing to do or not.’
‘Of course it’s the ri—’
‘George!’ Alexandra seized hold of her husband’s arm and bundled him towards the door. ‘That’s quite enough. You and I shall take a walk.’
Despite herself, Millie managed a faint laugh as they departed. ‘What do you think, Mama?’
‘I can’t deny it’s a shock, but it says something for his character that he came, I suppose. Do you like him?’
‘Yes, insofar as I know him.’
‘Would you really prefer to marry Gilbert?’
‘No, and I don’t suppose that Gilbert will want to marry me once he finds out how I’ve behaved.’
‘You don’t have to marry either of them.’
‘It’ll reflect badly on the Foundation if I don’t.’
‘Forget the Foundation for a moment. Your happiness is far more important and it’s better to be poor and happy than rich and miserable. Your father always said that and he knew it better than anyone.’
‘I know, but he also said that a promise oughtn’t to be given lightly.’ She pulled her hands away from her face finally. ‘No, I’ve given my answer and I must stick to it.’
Her mother smiled. ‘You always were strong-willed. Millie dearest, whatever shall I do without you?’
‘Oh, please don’t.’ She threw her arms around her mother’s shoulders and clung there. ‘Or I’ll start to cry. I’ll miss you so much, Mama.’
‘And I you...’ her mother’s voice sounded suspiciously tremulous ‘...but at least you’ll be living close to Alexandra.’
‘Lady Fentree, too,’ Millie sobbed.
‘Oh, dear, yes.’
‘She said that she doubted our paths would cross again.’
‘I think she might change her mind once you’re a marchioness.’
‘That’s the most ludicrous thing about all of this!’ She laid her head against her mother’s shoulder. ‘Can you imagine me as a marchioness?’
‘Yes, actually.’
‘You can?’ She lifted her head again in surprise.
‘Yes. It’s always been my opinion that good breeding has nothing to do with birth or titles. It’s inside us, in the way we behave.’
‘But it’s my behaviour that’s caused such a mess. All of this has happened because I wanted to take a walk in the snow!’
‘Hardly the worst motive in the world, dear.’
‘No.’ She sighed. ‘Isn’t it ironic that if I’d frozen to death in the snow everyone would have lauded my virtue, but because I took shelter with a man, my reputation is ruined?’
‘Those of us who love you are very pleased you did take shelter. And nobody who truly knows you will think badly of you.’
‘Thank you, Mama.’ She smiled gratefully. ‘Maybe I ought to follow the Queen’s example and wear white for the wedding. It would be rather fitting in this weather, don’t you think?’
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