Page 57 of Marry in Haste
There was a short stunned silence while Emm tried to gather her wits. Then, “Whatdid you say?”
“You heard me.” He seemed to realize his rudeness, and said in a hard voice, “I just asked you to marry me.”
“Oh, it was a question, was it?” she said dryly. She was pleased to hear her words come out quite calmly. It wasn’t at all how she felt. Her insides were madly churning.
He was talkingmarriage? To a woman he barely knew, whom he’d metfour times?
And kissed once.
His jaw tightened. He straightened his shoulders, as if about to face a firing squad. “Would you do me the honor of marrying me, Miss Westwood?”
Emm swallowed. They were words she’d never dreamed of hearing again, although the delivery left something to be desired. But the question itself made as much sense as some of her wilder fantasies. She forced herself to ask in as steady a voice as she could manage, “Why?Why would you want to marry me?”
He frowned as if the answer was obvious. “You said security for a lifetime was what mattered most to you. Marriage will give you that. And as my wife, you will be in a much better position to introduce the girls to the ton. You’ll have the authority and influence that a mere chaperone or governess would not.”
Emm couldn’t believe her ears. He was still conducting the job interview. Only this time the offer on the table was marriage.
Like the job description he’d made earlier, she was to supervise and arrange the launch in society of his half sisters and niece, accompany them, be responsible for them, and so on. But instead of a wage and bonuses, she would receive a generous annual allowance for as long as she lived; the use of any and all of his properties, as she wished; a carriage and team. To sum up, she would perform all the usual duties of a wife.
As Emm listened, doubts trickled coldly down her spine, dousing the flush of unwary warmth that had flowed through her. It was too good to be true. It was—it must be a joke at her expense.
Rich, handsome and wildly eligible earls did not make offers of marriage to women they barely knew. Especially not to women of no particular beauty, no fortune and no standing in the world. Who’d been on the shelf for years.
If he truly wanted a wife to launch his sisters, he had only to lift his finger and dozens of the pretty, well-connected young ladies currently on the London marriage mart would flock to accept his hand. He’d find almost as many in Bath—she’d heard about the stir his appearance in the Pump Room had caused.
No, he was angry with her for refusing his generous job offer, and now he was making this proposal as some kindof twisted revenge. He and his friends would probably laugh about it later in their horrid clubs.
About the foolish susceptible spinster.
Ridiculous how it hurt, nevertheless.
“You cannot be serious,” she said crisply, rising from her seat. “I must go, I have a class to teach.”
He stood, frowning. “You don’t believe me.” He said it as if he couldn’t quite believe it.
She searched his face. He looked almost convincing. But she didn’t, couldn’t believe him. Mustering all the dignity she could, she said quietly, “Good-bye, Lord Ashendon,” and held out her hand.
He took it in both hands. “I make the offer in all sincerity, but I understand you might need some time to consider it.”
She said nothing. She couldn’t. His hands were warm, cupping hers, so much smaller and icy cold by contrast.
He scanned her face and gave a brisk nod. “Think it over. I’ll call on you tomorrow at nine to hear your response. Good day, Miss Westwood. I’ll show myself out.” He picked up his hat and gloves, bowed to her and left.
Emm stared at the closing door, distantly registering the click as it shut, and then her legs started trembling. She collapsed bonelessly onto her chair, her mind awhirl with possibilities and counterpossibilities.Marriage?ToLord Ashendon?
A moment later the door opened again. She tensed, but it was only Theale. “You’re going to be late for your lesson.” Theale loved to catch people in the wrong.
“I know. I’m coming,” Emm managed, and rose shakily to her feet.
Theale’s eyes gleamed with suspicion. “You look rattled. What did he want?”
Emm shook her head. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”
***
Emm began her lesson in somewhat of a daze. Lord Ashendon’s proposal kept buzzing around her brain like a swarm of contradictory bees, flinging out questions, impossible-to-answer questions.
He’d claimed the offer was sincere. He’d sounded as if he meant it!
