my house—don't say anything for a moment—so you must marry me as it is the only way to put
things right.'
'But—'
'No. Think about it! Your
reputation will be secure. We can call it a runaway match, if you wish. We saw
each other at some unspecified event—unlikely, I know, but never mind that—and
fell in love at first sight. With the protection of my name no one will dare to
suggest that anything improper occurred. You will be able to escape from your
uncle and a life that clearly has made you unhappy. And, until your own inheritance
is yours, you can have the pleasure of spending some of my wealth and cutting a
dash in society.'
It sounded an attractive
proposition. For long moments, Frances considered the clear, coldly delivered
facts, smoothing out a worn patch on her skirt between her fingers. She raised
her eyes to his, trying to read the motive behind the unemotional delivery.
'But why would you do
this? You don't want a wife. Or, certainly, not me.'
He laughed harshly. 'You
are wrong. I do need to marry some time. It is, of course, my duty to my family
and my name to produce an heir. So why not you?'
Frances blushed. 'I am not
suitable. I am not talented or beautiful or fashionable... Your family would
think you had run mad.'
He shrugged carelessly.
'You come from a good family and the rest can be put right. And it will stop my
mother from nagging me. What do you say? Perhaps we should deal very well
together. Your view of marriage seems to be even more cynical than mine! As a
business arrangement it could be to the benefit of both of us.'
Frances still hesitated.
'If for no other reason,
you might consider my position. It may surprise you to know that I do have some
sense of honour.' His lips curled cynically. 'I would not wittingly seek to be
accused of abducting and ruining an innocent girl. I do have some pride, you
know.'
Frances took a deep
breath. 'I had not thought of that.'
'Then do so. You are not
likely to be the only sufferer here.'
'But you already have a
reputation for—' She came to a sudden halt, embarrassed by her insensitive
accusation.
'Ah. I see.' His voice was
low and quiet. 'So my damnable reputation has reached even you, Miss Hanwell,
shut away as you have been in Torrington Hall. Do you expect me to live up to
it? One more victim from the fair sex will make no difference, I suppose.
Perhaps I should seduce you and abandon you simply to give credence to the
rumours spread by wagging tongues. I am clearly beyond redemption. Perhaps I
should not insult you with an offer of marriage.'
Frances could not answer
the bitter mockery or the banked anger in his eyes but simply sat, head bent
against the wave of emotion. When he made no effort to break the silence that
had fallen, she glanced up at him. The anger had faded from his face, to be
replaced by something that she found difficult to interpret. If she did not
know better, she might have thought it was a moment of vulnerability.
'Well, Miss Hanwell?'
'Very well. I think I must
accept your offer, my lord. I will try to be a conformable wife.' She could
hardly believe that she was saying those words.
'You amaze me. So far all
you have done is argue and refuse to listen to good sense.'
'But... I never meant...'
'There is no need to say
any more. Come here.' She stood and moved towards him. He turned her to face
the light from the candles at his elbow and looked at her searchingly for
perhaps the first time, turning her head gently with his hand beneath her jaw.
Her skin, a trifle pale from the emotions of the past hour, had the smooth
translucence of youth. Her eyebrows were well marked and as dark as her
uncontrolled curls. Her remarkable violet eyes expressed every emotion she
felt—at the moment uncertainty and not a little shyness. But equally he had
seen them flash in anger and contempt. She had a straight nose, a most decided
chin and softly curving lips. She was not a beauty, he thought, but a little
town bronze
things right.'
'But—'
'No. Think about it! Your
reputation will be secure. We can call it a runaway match, if you wish. We saw
each other at some unspecified event—unlikely, I know, but never mind that—and
fell in love at first sight. With the protection of my name no one will dare to
suggest that anything improper occurred. You will be able to escape from your
uncle and a life that clearly has made you unhappy. And, until your own inheritance
is yours, you can have the pleasure of spending some of my wealth and cutting a
dash in society.'
It sounded an attractive
proposition. For long moments, Frances considered the clear, coldly delivered
facts, smoothing out a worn patch on her skirt between her fingers. She raised
her eyes to his, trying to read the motive behind the unemotional delivery.
'But why would you do
this? You don't want a wife. Or, certainly, not me.'
He laughed harshly. 'You
are wrong. I do need to marry some time. It is, of course, my duty to my family
and my name to produce an heir. So why not you?'
Frances blushed. 'I am not
suitable. I am not talented or beautiful or fashionable... Your family would
think you had run mad.'
He shrugged carelessly.
'You come from a good family and the rest can be put right. And it will stop my
mother from nagging me. What do you say? Perhaps we should deal very well
together. Your view of marriage seems to be even more cynical than mine! As a
business arrangement it could be to the benefit of both of us.'
Frances still hesitated.
'If for no other reason,
you might consider my position. It may surprise you to know that I do have some
sense of honour.' His lips curled cynically. 'I would not wittingly seek to be
accused of abducting and ruining an innocent girl. I do have some pride, you
know.'
Frances took a deep
breath. 'I had not thought of that.'
'Then do so. You are not
likely to be the only sufferer here.'
'But you already have a
reputation for—' She came to a sudden halt, embarrassed by her insensitive
accusation.
'Ah. I see.' His voice was
low and quiet. 'So my damnable reputation has reached even you, Miss Hanwell,
shut away as you have been in Torrington Hall. Do you expect me to live up to
it? One more victim from the fair sex will make no difference, I suppose.
Perhaps I should seduce you and abandon you simply to give credence to the
rumours spread by wagging tongues. I am clearly beyond redemption. Perhaps I
should not insult you with an offer of marriage.'
Frances could not answer
the bitter mockery or the banked anger in his eyes but simply sat, head bent
against the wave of emotion. When he made no effort to break the silence that
had fallen, she glanced up at him. The anger had faded from his face, to be
replaced by something that she found difficult to interpret. If she did not
know better, she might have thought it was a moment of vulnerability.
'Well, Miss Hanwell?'
'Very well. I think I must
accept your offer, my lord. I will try to be a conformable wife.' She could
hardly believe that she was saying those words.
'You amaze me. So far all
you have done is argue and refuse to listen to good sense.'
'But... I never meant...'
'There is no need to say
any more. Come here.' She stood and moved towards him. He turned her to face
the light from the candles at his elbow and looked at her searchingly for
perhaps the first time, turning her head gently with his hand beneath her jaw.
Her skin, a trifle pale from the emotions of the past hour, had the smooth
translucence of youth. Her eyebrows were well marked and as dark as her
uncontrolled curls. Her remarkable violet eyes expressed every emotion she
felt—at the moment uncertainty and not a little shyness. But equally he had
seen them flash in anger and contempt. She had a straight nose, a most decided
chin and softly curving lips. She was not a beauty, he thought, but a little
town bronze
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