Love and the Single Heiress

Her startled gaze flew to his. He touched the edge of the vellum. “The first line reads You saved my life.”

“I do not see how you can say that, as it is my fault that you were hurt tonight.”

“Not tonight. Six years ago. The morning after I joined Philip at his camp, I came upon him sitting on a blanket near the banks of the Nile, reading a letter. From his sister, he told me. He read me some amusing snippets, and I sat there listening to the words you’d written him, filled with envy for the obvious affection in which you held each other. He went on to tell me a bit about you, the fact that your marriage was unhappy, the joy you found with your son, and also about Spencer’s affliction. After we returned to camp, he showed me the miniature you’d given him before he’d left England.”

He briefly closed his eyes, vividly reliving that instant when he’d first laid eyes on her image. “You were so lovely. I could not fathom how your husband did not worship the ground you walked on.

“From that moment on, with every story Philip told me about you, my regard and admiration grew, and I believe I anticipated your letters to Philip even more than Philip himself. Your bravery, fortitude, and grace in the face of your marital situation and Spencer’s difficulties touched me deeply and inspired me to examine my deep shame and guilt over my past and the dissolute manner in which I’d lived my life since leaving America. Your goodness, your kindness, your courage inspired me to change my life. Redeem myself. I knew that someday I would return to England with Philip, and I was determined to be a person that Lady Catherine would be proud to know. You showed me that goodness and kindness still existed, and you gave me the will to want that again. I’ve wanted to thank you for that for six years.” He reached out and squeezed her hand. “Thank you.”

Catherine’s heart thumped in slow, hard beats from his words and the utter sincerity in his dark eyes. She swallowed. Her heart ached for him, for the despair he’d lived with for so long. “You’re welcome. I had no idea my letters had… inspired you so. I’m very sorry for the pain you suffered, and I’m glad you were able to find peace within yourself.”

Without wavering his gaze, he released her hand, then reached out and touched the edge of the vellum. “The second line reads I love you.”

Catherine went perfectly still, except for her pulse, which jumped erratically. His feelings for her blazed from his eyes, without any attempt to hide them.

“My mind understands that my social status and past renders me not good enough for you. But my heart…”He shook his head. “My heart refuses to listen. My logic tells me I should wait, take more time to court you. But I almost lost you tonight and I simply cannot wait. Our friendship, our time together as lovers, everything we’ve shared, every touch, every word, has brought me more joy than I can describe. But being your lover is not enough.”

He reached into his waistcoat pocket, and withdrew an item he held out to her. “I want more. I want it all. All of you. I want you to be my wife. Catherine, will you marry me?”

The bottom seemed to drop out of Catherine’s stomach. She stared at the single, perfect, oval emerald set in a simple gold band resting in his callused palm. He must have purchased the gem while he was in London. Tears pushed behind her eyes. Dismay, confusion, unexpected longing all collided in her. Her emotions were a raw jumble, all vying for her attention until she simply couldn’t differentiate one from the other. “You know how I feel about marriage.”

“Yes. And given your experience, your reservations are understandable. But you also know how I feel about it. I told you in the carriage on our journey to Little Longstone that I wanted a wife and family. Did you think I’m the sort of man who would compromise you, then walk away?”

“Andrew, I am not a young virginal miss to be ‘compromised.' I'm a grown, Modern Woman, indulging in a mutually pleasurable affair. When you said you wanted a wife, you described a paragon of perfection whom I doubt exists.”

“No. I was looking right at her. You are all those things I described and so much more-a woman with flaws, who in spite of them, because of them, is the perfect woman for me. I’m asking you to reconsider your feelings on marriage. To instead consider your feelings for me.” He studied her for several seconds, then said quietly, “I know you care. You never would have taken me into your bed, into your body, if you did not.”

Heat stung Catherine’s cheek. “I did not take you as a lover to pry a marriage proposal from you.”

“I know. And there is no need to pry. I offer my proposal willingly. And with great hope that in spite of all I told you tonight, you will accept.”

“When we entered into our liaison, we agreed it was only temporary.”

“No, you insisted it was temporary. I never agreed. And even if I had, I hereby formally renege. I do not want temporary. I want forever. I want to be your husband. I want to be a father to Spencer-if he wishes me to be so. At the very least, I want to be his friend and champion.” He drew a deep breath. “I’ve told you about my past. I’ve told you how I feel about you. My heart, my soul are yours. Tell me what you want to do with them.”

Catherine locked her knees to steady their trembling. “You don’t understand what you’re asking of me, and clearly you don’t know what marriage means to a woman. It means I cease to exist. I would lose everything because it would no longer belong to me, it would belong to my husband. My husband could banish me to the country, neglect our child, sell off my personal belongings-and all legally. I’ve already lived through that horror. I do not require more money, or family connections. Marriage has nothing to offer me.”

“Clearly we use different dictionaries, because to me, marriage means caring for one another. Loving together. Sharing laughter and helping through pain. Always knowing that there is another person standing beside you. For you.”

“I must admit, your definition sounds lovely, but experience has taught me marriage is not that way. Do you honestly believe your definition is realistic?”

“I suppose that depends on why a person marries. If one marries for money or social position, then I agree it could prove disastrous. But if the marriage is based on love and respect, because you cannot imagine not spending every day of your life with the person who owns your heart, then yes, I believe it can be all those wonderful things.” He reached for her hand. After gently placing the ring on her palm, he folded her fingers closed and nestled her fist between his hands. “Catherine, if you decide you don’t want to marry me, let it be because I’m not from your social class. Because I’m a common American. Because I have a scarred past. Because you don’t love me. Please don’t refuse me because you think I’ll take things away from you when all I want to do is give to you. Everything. Always. I want to take care of you.”

“I believe I’ve demonstrated quite well over the past decade that I do not need a man to take care of me.” A sick feeling of loss washed through her at the hurt that flared in his eyes. True, she did not want a husband, but she realized with sudden stinging clarity, neither did she want Andrew simply to disappear from her life. “Why don’t we just continue on as we have?” she said, hating the note of desperation she heard in her voice.

“Having an affair?”

“Yes.”

Her breath stilled while she waited for his answer. Finally, very quietly, he said, “No. I cannot do that to you. Or Spencer. Or myself. If we continue, eventually someone would discover the truth, and the gossip would only hurt you and Spencer. I’ve no desire to sneak around, grabbing stolen moments, and keeping my feelings hidden. I want it all, Catherine. All or… nothing.”

The floor seemed to shift beneath her feet. There was no mistaking the resolution in his voice and eyes, and anger shot through her. “You have no right to issue such an ultimatum.”

“I disagree. I believe the facts that I’m painfully in love with you and have shared your bed gives me that right.”

“The fact that we shared a bed changes nothing.”

“You’re wrong. It changes everything? ”He squeezed her hand tighter. “Catherine, either you feel the same things I do, or you don’t. Either you love me, or you don’t. Either you want to spend your life with me, or you don’t.”

“And you expect me to give you an answer right now? All or nothing?”

“Yes.”

Catherine stared at him, the pressure of the ring pressing into her palm. A myriad of conflicting emotions battered her from every direction, but she shoved the jumble aside and focused on the anger-toward him for forcing her to make a decision like this and toward herself for even hesitating. Her choice was clear. She didn’t want a