the memory of his audacious proposal started her blood to a simmer. Even in her loneliest moments, when she truly considered the possibility of remarrying someday, she never once considered this obnoxious man. Never.
Unlike many women, she was no novice when it came to her rights or how to protect her rights under the law. As a single woman and now, later, as a widow, her rights to do business or own property were equal to any man’s. During her marriage, a separate legal estate had kept her assets under her control. Without one, everything she owned would have become her husband’s property once she married.
Her dear Jonas had not objected to the existence of the separate estate when they married, and he had been perfectly content with Emma in full control of their financial affairs. Mr. Langhorne, on the other hand, was quite a different type of man. He either assumed she had no knowledge of how to protect her assets if she married him or that she would have been so flattered by his proposal, since she was now fifty-one years old, she would have learned, too late, that he had acquired the parcel of land on Hollaway Lane he truly wanted and much more.
He paled. ‘‘It was presumptive and very foolish of me,’’ he admitted in a rare display of honesty.
She nodded and lowered her lashes. ‘‘And I accepted your gracious apology. I also recall declining not one but two different sums of money you offered for the parcel of land you apparently still want.’’
When his spectacles slipped down his nose again, he removed them, wiped them dry with a handkerchief, and put them back on. ‘‘Quite so. Quite so. But you did suggest there might be a way I would be able to convince you to sell me the land,’’ he countered and spread out the papers he had placed on top of her desk. He rifled through them for several moments before handing one to her. ‘‘You should be very excited about this. I have further documentation to verify that everything in the letter is true and factual.’’
Curious, she skimmed the letter, then read it again more slowly. When she finished, she moistened her lips and cleared a lump of disbelief from her throat. She had been wrong about this man after all. He was not merely stubborn or persistent. He was devious beyond measure and apparently willing to go to amazing measures to guarantee his own success—assuming the document he had given to her was valid.
Still determined to emerge victorious in their battle of wills, she drew a deep breath, met his gaze, and held it. When she spoke, she chose her words carefully and kept her voice gentle, if only to make sure she would learn the full extent of his efforts before ushering him out the door for the last time. ‘‘I’m afraid I’m simply overwhelmed by your offer. I’m quite certain it took a man of considerable talent and determination to make this possible.’’
For the first time during their conversation, he relaxed his shoulders. The glint of confidence and superiority she had detected when he first arrived returned in full force. ‘‘As you know, until recently when I relocated to this area, I conducted most of my business in New York City. Regardless of what you must think of me, I am a man not without influence, both here and abroad. I simply made a few inquiries on your behalf,’’ he replied.
He paused to flick a bit of dirt from his trousers. ‘‘I have no interest beyond playing an important role in the fascinating development of this region, but I have no doubt that a woman of your grace and stature would find living abroad among those of similar means far more, shall we say, suitable? It would mean liquidating the rest of your holdings here, but I would be willing to assist you in any way you might allow.’’
She clenched her jaw and set aside the outrageous notion he had spent the past few months investigating her circumstances or that he had done anything on her behalf without her knowledge. At the same
Unlike many women, she was no novice when it came to her rights or how to protect her rights under the law. As a single woman and now, later, as a widow, her rights to do business or own property were equal to any man’s. During her marriage, a separate legal estate had kept her assets under her control. Without one, everything she owned would have become her husband’s property once she married.
Her dear Jonas had not objected to the existence of the separate estate when they married, and he had been perfectly content with Emma in full control of their financial affairs. Mr. Langhorne, on the other hand, was quite a different type of man. He either assumed she had no knowledge of how to protect her assets if she married him or that she would have been so flattered by his proposal, since she was now fifty-one years old, she would have learned, too late, that he had acquired the parcel of land on Hollaway Lane he truly wanted and much more.
He paled. ‘‘It was presumptive and very foolish of me,’’ he admitted in a rare display of honesty.
She nodded and lowered her lashes. ‘‘And I accepted your gracious apology. I also recall declining not one but two different sums of money you offered for the parcel of land you apparently still want.’’
When his spectacles slipped down his nose again, he removed them, wiped them dry with a handkerchief, and put them back on. ‘‘Quite so. Quite so. But you did suggest there might be a way I would be able to convince you to sell me the land,’’ he countered and spread out the papers he had placed on top of her desk. He rifled through them for several moments before handing one to her. ‘‘You should be very excited about this. I have further documentation to verify that everything in the letter is true and factual.’’
Curious, she skimmed the letter, then read it again more slowly. When she finished, she moistened her lips and cleared a lump of disbelief from her throat. She had been wrong about this man after all. He was not merely stubborn or persistent. He was devious beyond measure and apparently willing to go to amazing measures to guarantee his own success—assuming the document he had given to her was valid.
Still determined to emerge victorious in their battle of wills, she drew a deep breath, met his gaze, and held it. When she spoke, she chose her words carefully and kept her voice gentle, if only to make sure she would learn the full extent of his efforts before ushering him out the door for the last time. ‘‘I’m afraid I’m simply overwhelmed by your offer. I’m quite certain it took a man of considerable talent and determination to make this possible.’’
For the first time during their conversation, he relaxed his shoulders. The glint of confidence and superiority she had detected when he first arrived returned in full force. ‘‘As you know, until recently when I relocated to this area, I conducted most of my business in New York City. Regardless of what you must think of me, I am a man not without influence, both here and abroad. I simply made a few inquiries on your behalf,’’ he replied.
He paused to flick a bit of dirt from his trousers. ‘‘I have no interest beyond playing an important role in the fascinating development of this region, but I have no doubt that a woman of your grace and stature would find living abroad among those of similar means far more, shall we say, suitable? It would mean liquidating the rest of your holdings here, but I would be willing to assist you in any way you might allow.’’
She clenched her jaw and set aside the outrageous notion he had spent the past few months investigating her circumstances or that he had done anything on her behalf without her knowledge. At the same
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