use my wealth and position to achieve all that you desire. Think what you could do.’
There was a small, sharp intake of breath beside him. Then silence.
‘My rank would protect you. And we would be comfortable together, I am sure of it. Imagine how our life could be.’ Jon waited. Had he said enough to persuade her? Would she at least consider his offer?
She withdrew her hand and clasped her fingers in her lap once more. Not a good sign. Was she going to refuse him again?
‘If I do not accept you, sir, what will you do?’
Another facer. ‘I would-’ His answer began automatically, but then he stopped short, trying to collect his thoughts. He owed her a considered response on something so important.
That was when he realised that he had no answer to give her. He had not the faintest notion of what he would do if she turned him down.
The silence stretched between them. Jon found that it was surprisingly comfortable to sit in silence with Beth, even when he was trying to decide how to reply to her searching question. It was just as he had supposed: she was a restful woman and an estimable companion. She was exactly the wife he needed. He could not afford to lose her. He must not.
That sudden urgency had started his mind racing, as if he were back facing the enemy. He was going to have to fight-and fight harder-to convince her to accept him. His tactics so far had failed. He needed-
A new idea exploded in his rioting thoughts. Now, at last, he knew how to begin. ‘I have a bargain to offer you, Beth.’
‘A bargain?’ Her voice had become hoarse. ‘I don’t understand.’
He grinned at her, feeling himself regaining control at last. ‘I have made you a sincere proposal of marriage. You have asked, reasonably enough, what I will do if you refuse me. I will answer you, and truthfully, but not now, not here. Tomorrow, if you agree, I shall call at the rectory to take you out driving. I will dismiss the groom as soon as we reach the park, so all our conversation will be quite private. Then, I promise, I will answer your question. And perhaps you, in turn, will give me your response to my proposal?’
‘I…I should not- You will not take my answer now?’
He shook his head. He allowed his self-assured grin to subside into a wry smile as he looked down at her, but he could see that her resolve was weakening. If he could make her wait, make her reflect, then all hope was not lost. ‘If you want to hear my answer before you speak, Beth, you will have to drive with me tomorrow. Do we have a bargain?’
She sat immobile for a long time, staring vacantly across the garden. Jon waited. The longer she thought, the better his chances, he decided. He would wait until darkness fell if that would help his cause.
Beth rose quite suddenly, in a single graceful movement. A well-bred lady’s movement. This time she did not stop him from joining her on the path. ‘Perhaps we should go in?’ she said, in what Jon could only describe as her company voice. ‘It is beginning to get a little chilly out here and Aunt Caro will be wondering what has happened to us.’
Without waiting to be asked, she tucked her arm into his. It was a confiding gesture, Jon thought. And hopeful.
They began to stroll towards the house. ‘Let us hope that the fine weather continues for a few days yet.’ She glanced up at the sky. ‘It looks to be set fair.’ She smiled at nothing in particular and twisted her head to look up at him. ‘At what time do you plan to call for me tomorrow?’
Beth began to pace up and down in the small free space between the end of her bed and the window overlooking the shrubbery.
But did it matter, provided he really wanted Beth to wife? He said he did. And it was more than wanting. It seemed that he needed her. Beth had been wrong to believe he had loved Alicia. In fact, his first marriage had been a failure. He had no son. And she sensed that he was very lonely. He wanted a companion and a friend more than he wanted a wife. He had almost said as much.
Could she really be that woman? Wife to an earl? Would it be such a sin for a woman with no past to accept him?
It would be a sin to condemn him to loneliness. And it would be worse to condemn him to another marriage like his first. Perhaps he would prefer no wife, and no heir, to marriage to a woman he could not esteem? He did esteem Beth, for all her lack of family and history. He said there could be nothing truly wicked in her past, that he knew her well enough to make a judgement about her character. He was so sure of it that she had begun to believe him. But did
Yes, of course she did. He was a fine man, a man of integrity who cared for his tenants, and for all those who depended upon him. When he returned from Spain and discovered what his brother had done to the Fratcombe estate, he had set about putting matters to rights. The repairs had been done, the workers had received fair prices for their labours, and he had paid for the children to be sent to school. Yes, he was a good man. He did need an heir, certainly. Unless he married again, and produced a son, his heir would remain his younger brother, George, the man who had tried to bleed Fratcombe of every penny it would yield.
It had been so simple to refuse him when he first proposed. His offer had come as a shock, and her answer had been automatic. But it was not simple any longer. Was Beth truly the only woman he could bear to think of as a wife? She would not know the answer to that until tomorrow. If he said it was Beth or no one, would she accept him? She refused to think about that. Jonathan was a man of the world. He knew he had to marry. If Beth refused him, he would find someone else, surely? He would not marry a girl out of the schoolroom. That was abundantly clear. But there must be other women, other ladies, who were older, more knowledgeable. A widow might suit him, perhaps. Yes. A widow of rank.
Beth’s pacing had brought her back to the window yet again. She stopped. The sun was setting. The red-gold light was shining through the leaves of the huge beech, making them glow like amber jewels. In a few weeks, its branches would be bare. It was nearly winter. This golden autumn was a joy, but short-lived.
She pressed her palms to the panes, leant her forehead against the wood and closed her eyes. She tried to visualise Jonathan sitting in comfort by his fire, his new wife on the opposite side, calmly reading a book of sermons. The new countess’s face was hidden from Beth’s view. She was wearing a fine silk gown in a deep shade of red, her hair concealed by an expensive lace cap and her head bent as she concentrated on her reading. Was she reading aloud? It appeared not.
And Jonathan? What was he doing? He seemed to be leaning back, staring at the fire. His hands were resting on the carved wooden arms of his chair. He looked…he looked…
Beth could not decide. His expression was rather vacant. It was not happy, not even content. He was somewhere else entirely. And his wife, the high-ranking widow he had married, was quite oblivious of it.
‘Oh, it is wishful thinking!’ Beth exclaimed, exasperated at her own wilful daydreaming. ‘You want him. That is the truth of it. You have always wanted him. And you are looking for reasons to persuade yourself that he needs you, that you should not refuse him. You are a fool, Beth Aubrey, or whatever your true name is. You are a fool!’
Those forbidden words. She had spent so long trying to banish them from her thoughts. And now they had ambushed her. Did she really love him? She took one last look at the glowing golden tree and sank to her knees on the floor, pillowing her head in her hands. Of course she did. She wanted him in her heart, and in her bed. She wanted more than that one spell-binding kiss. And she wanted to spend her whole life trying to make him happy, to ease the loneliness and hurt from which he was suffering. Perhaps one day, he might even confide in Beth about what had happened when he was in Spain.
He had never said a word in her hearing, but she was sure that something he had done, or something he had seen in his time there, was at the root of what troubled him. The man who had carried a shivering foundling to the refuge of the rectory was a man who needed a refuge of his own. He seemed to be sure, in his own mind, that Beth was the woman who would provide the sanctuary he was seeking. Why deny him and, in so doing, deny her own deepest longings?
