Page 75 of Lady for a Season
“Margaret.”
“Yes?”
“Lord Frampton is waiting. I hope you know what your answer should be.”
“My answer?”
The Duchess’ voice was tight. “Lord Frampton is about to make you an offer of marriage, Margaret. I hope you know better than to accept him. It would be an utter disgrace for an earl to marry someone like you under false pretences.”
Maggie stared at her. “An offer ofmarriage?”
“Oh, you need not put on a pretence, Maggie, I am sure you knew it was coming. All these past months amongst theton,you saw your chance and grasped it with both hands. A young earl with no parents to guide him when choosing a wife? How convenient that Robert Sinclair, Earl of Frampton, should find himself dancing with you so often. You could not have Edward, so you cast your net wider, is that it?”
“I was not… I have never sought…” Maggie was flustered and bewildered.
“He is waiting,” the Duchess repeated. “Go to him and get this over with. You will refuse him as graciously as you are able, then go to your room.”
She swept away and Maggie forced herself to walk to the library. She hesitated with her hand on the door, took a deep breath and entered.
The Earl was standing by one of the windows, wringing his hands. Maggie felt a swell of pity for his nerves. As she entered,he corrected his posture, bringing his hands to his sides for a smart bow.
“Miss Seton.”
“Lord Frampton. It is a pleasure to see you.” And it was. She was fond of him; he had been a kind and gentlemanly figure throughout the social season. She had thought of him as a friend and had not realised he had seen their relationship in a different light.
“I am glad it is a pleasure to you,” he said clumsily but with a hopeful smile. “May we sit together for a moment?” He indicated seating by the fireplace, and she joined him there, wondering whether she should allow him to speak or whether it was better to intervene before the proposal was made, whether that would be more ladylike or even simply kind. But she did not make up her mind fast enough, for the Earl was already speaking.
“I have greatly enjoyed your company this past season,” he said, leaning forwards earnestly. “I – since the death of my dear mama, I have been – well, lonely. Frampton Hall is a good home, and I am at my happiest there. I am not much of a town person. But I thought to myself that I must do my duty and find a bride this season and so I came to London with that express intention. And I – I found it harder than I expected, Miss Seton. I do not have the guidance of family, excepting my Aunt Catherine, who is a most excellent person but has particular ways of thinking. She – well, she believes that finding a bride is only about suitability. Rank. Wealth. Breeding. But I should like – that is, I should prefer to also consider love, Miss Seton. I should like to love my wife.”
Maggie’s heart ached for him. There was a kindness and a goodness to him that she wished was being bestowed on someone else, someone able to make him happy. “Lord Frampton, I –”
“Please call me Robert, Miss Seton. I should also make itclear that I do not require my future bride to bring a dowry. I have more than enough and so I am glad to say that such considerations need not be of concern in this instance.” He paused, a little breathless. “Let me be plain. I have concluded that while I greatly esteem many of the charming young ladies of theton, it is only in your company that I have felt the happiness which I would wish to find in a marriage and therefore, I ask that you do me the honour of becoming my wife. Will you marry me, Miss Seton?”
Maggie wanted to reach out and place her hand on his, but was afraid it would be taken for assent, so instead she put her hand against her heart.
“I am sorry, Lord Frampton, I cannot marry you.”
Pain flickered across his face. “Do your affections lie elsewhere?”
Edward. They lay with Edward. Impossibly. She thought of the Duchess’ horror and anger at the idea of her saying yes to the Earl and multiplied it a thousand-fold to what she would say if she could see into Maggie’s heart and know how much she longed to be with Edward. But the Earl was waiting for a reply, and she did not want to prolong his pain.
“My affections are as yet… unclaimed, Lord Frampton. But I am not ready for marriage. I wish to stay with my family until I am older.”
His disappointment turned back to hope. “I would wait for you,” he assured her. “However long… I am still young myself, Miss Seton, there is no hurry. If there were an understanding between us, I would be more than happy to wait.”
He was a good, kind man. For a moment, something flickered in Maggie. Should she say yes? What, after all, could the Duchess do? As the wife of Lord Frampton, Maggie would be safe and loved, elevated to the rank of countess, an unthinkable leap in her fortunes. She would be married to a good man. Making alife with Edward was an impossibility while Robert… Robert, extraordinarily, was actually a possibility.
But Edward was everything to her and she could not live a lie.
“I am sorry, Lord Frampton,” she repeated. “I do not wish to hold you to a promise which you might come to regret. I hope that you will find another lady who will make you happy.”
He set his jaw, stood and bowed. “I will take my leave of you Miss Seton,” he said, his voice wavering ever so slightly before he pulled it back to firmness. “Should you ever reconsider… you know where to find me. I shall remain your devoted friend.”
Maggie rose and curtseyed, met his unhappy eyes. “As shall I, Lord Frampton,” she said gently. “And I am grateful for and honoured by your offer.”
He bowed again and left her, striding out of the room, no doubt to retreat to the privacy of his waiting carriage where he could weather the sting of her refusal alone.
Maggie watched him go. Celine would have chastised her. Throw away the very real opportunity to become a countess, for an imagined and impossible romance with Edward, something that would never be allowed to happen? What madness was this?
