He was standing as still as the statues in his park. His outstretched hand had not moved even a fraction.
‘Oh, you ridiculous man!’ She let anger bury the hurt. ‘You must know it is impossible. You are the Earl of Portbury and I am nobody. I have no past, no family, not even a name. You insult me by suggesting you would take me to wife.’ That spurt of anger had saved her. She was back in control. She had even managed to bury the delicious sensations that his kiss had brought to the surface and that had been threatening to overwhelm her. She would not think of those. She turned abruptly and began to march along the path towards the rectory. That was where her refuge lay. That was where she could be free of this torment.
He caught up to her after three paces. He did not touch her. If he had, she might have cried out, so tense were the feelings consuming her. No, he just strode past her and planted himself like a rock on the path, as if a landslide had suddenly blocked the way. Heavy, impenetrable, dangerous. He was not smiling. He held up a hand, not an offering this time, but a command.
She stopped. She had no choice.
‘You
He was very sure, and absolutely wrong. ‘Of course they would,’ she retorted, trying to swallow the pain that was gripping her heart. ‘You have no idea what black deeds there may be in my past that led me to flee. Have you never thought that my memory is shuttered because of what lies hidden there? The Earl of Portbury cannot risk discovering that his wife is a fugitive. Or worse. What would society say then?’
‘No one would dare to accuse my wife of
His tone was so arrogant that Beth was stunned into silence. He frowned down at her for a moment, and then said, in a more thoughtful voice, ‘You are a truly good woman, Beth. If you fled, it was from someone else’s wickedness, not your own. I believe-I know that to be true. No one would dare to suggest otherwise.’
‘Of course they would,’ she said again, though less forcefully. ‘They would say that the Earl of Portbury had taken leave of his senses, in marrying such a woman. They would obey the outward forms, no doubt, but the gossip, the sly, sneering comments, would be made at every turn. Not only about me, but also about you! Can you not understand that, Jonatha-? My lord?’ She winced. His stony expression had softened at the sound of his given name. The moment she retracted it, he had begun to frown again.
‘I understand no such thing. What’s more, I would not care a jot about society gossip. I do not seek to marry for society’s sake, but for my own. I do not seek to cut a fine figure in this world of theirs. I do not give a fig for that. And I had thought that you would not, either. Beth? Beth, do you care for such things? I thought you would wish to live retired from society, as I do. Let the tabbies say what they will of us. We have no need of them, and their stiff-rumped opinions. Our life together will be peaceful, and content. As far from society as we wish to be. It is a delightful prospect, is it not?’
It was more than delightful. It would be paradise. But she could not possibly answer with the truth. Nor could she lie. She just stared at him.
He cleared his throat. ‘I can see that I have shocked you with my proposal. It is no wonder, for you are a gently bred lady.’
At that, her head came up even more. He did not know- He
‘But I beg you to understand that my proposal is sincerely meant. You would do me the utmost honour if you accepted me. Will you not at least take a little time, a day, to consider what I am offering?’ He took half a step towards her. ‘Please, Beth. Do at least consider.’
She felt an almost overpowering urge to raise her fingers to his face, to stroke away the tension that was so evident in his frown and in his narrowed eyes. She clasped her hands together once again, forbidding them to stray.
She had to stop him, to save him. She must not let her feelings overcome her principles. She fixed her gaze on the ground at her feet, knowing she dare not look at him for this. ‘I suggest that
Chapter Eight
She had planted him a facer.
Jon had been boxing for too many years to give in just because he had been floored once. He refused to quit, especially when his goal had suddenly become so much more important.
‘Look at me, Beth,’ he said, as gently as he could, reaching for her tightly clasped hands. She tensed for a moment, but then she yielded enough for Jon to take them in his. He did not attempt to pry her fingers apart. He simply lifted them to his lips and dropped a featherlight kiss on her skin. She was still staring at the ground, however. She seemed determined to resist him. Was she afraid, perhaps? ‘There is no need to be anxious. I know you for a strong woman who is afraid of nothing, and no one. I am your friend, Beth. Please look at me.’
It seemed the word ‘friend’ was able to reach her, where his touch had not. Without moving her hands in his, she slowly raised her head and her gaze joined with his. She was as white as her tucker; her eyes were huge and dark in her pale face. She made no move to speak, but she did not need to, for her emotions were written in her brilliant eyes. His proposal had injured her. Even if she now accepted that Jon was not mocking her, she was certainly not convinced that there was any kind of a future for them as man and wife. She thought Jon was too high, and she-a woman with a shadowy past and no memory-was much too low.
‘I can assure you, Beth, that you are wrong about marriage.’
‘I…I know I am not wrong about this one. It is impossible.’
‘I understand your reluctance, but I cannot agree with you. Will you allow me to explain why?’ He drew her arm into his-she had stopped resisting, he was glad to see-and escorted her back to the bench under the beech tree. He had a chance now, though perhaps not for long. He was going to have to be truly silver-tongued, for she was clearly set against him.
He took his seat beside her, still holding her hand tucked into his arm, but he did not sit too close. ‘I must ask you first, Beth, if you still think I am trying to play a base trick on you with my proposal?’ He had to know that she would listen.
She coloured a little and shook her head.
‘Good. That is a start.’ He patted her hand, just the lightest of touches. It was too intimate, it seemed, for she flinched. He felt the tightening of her muscles through the layers of clothing. He let his free arm drop back to his side. One more false move and she might run.
‘You think you may already be married. I can see why you would think that. For a lady, it is a logical assumption but, as a man, I can tell you that you are certainly…er…untouched.’ No married woman would have responded so innocently to Jon’s kisses. He was not mistaken there.
Jon cleared his throat. That had not been a good choice of word. There were some aspects of marriage that one did not discuss with a gently-bred, single lady. ‘Beth, you think you are not good enough to become a countess. To become
When she began to protest, he shook his head and continued without allowing her to speak. ‘Beth, I have had my fill of ladies of rank. My first marriage-’ He swallowed hard. ‘Normally, I would not discuss the failure of my first marriage, but you are entitled to know. My late wife was a duke’s daughter, with all the accomplishments her position entailed, but she brought me nothing. Another dynastic marriage to a chit out of the schoolroom could easily be just as bad. I want- I