Garson’s heart sank as he watched shock flood Jane’s expression. He’d assumed she’d already have some idea of why he’d called, togged out in his best clothes and requesting a private interview, but her reaction made it clear that his offer came as a bolt from the blue. Not a particularly welcome bolt, at that.

Although she was no beauty, he liked her face. The even features were pleasing, and those wide, shining gray eyes didn’t miss much. He remembered that as a girl, she’d had a sly sense of humor and a quirky take on life and its vicissitudes.

 But that had been before her father’s illness. Garson hadn’t seen much of her in recent years, an admission that now made him feel a little guilty. Studying the drawn face beneath that severely confined mass of dark red hair, he discerned few traces of her former spark.

She didn’t have to tell him the price family duty had exacted from her. He could see it in her features. Only her extravagant wealth of hair gave any real hint of vitality.

As a younger man, he’d never thought of Jane Norris as anything but the daughter of his father’s friend. At least in daylight hours. He’d frequently woken from heated dreams, where he was entwined in skeins of silky red hair, the exact color of Jane’s. Dreams that had been unacceptable then, and now struck him as downright perverse, with her sitting before him as neat and self-contained as a bloody nun. Her gray, high-necked dress, unadorned with anything as frivolous as a frill or a ribbon, just confirmed the fiercely virginal impression.

“What a mad idea.” In a nervous movement, one white hand rose to her throat. She had pretty hands, he noticed, slender and capable.

His eyebrows arched with a touch of hauteur. By God, she didn’t shirk from trampling his vanity. At the very least, he’d assumed she’d find his proposal flattering. In his more optimistic moments, he’d imagined her rushing headlong to accept him. Clearly that optimism was unfounded. “I’m sorry you think so.”

She flushed and made an apologetic gesture. At least her blush made her look less like a little ghost. “I beg your pardon. That wasn’t polite.”

He stepped away from the mantelpiece to approach her window seat. “I’d rather we were honest with one another.”

She regarded him doubtfully. “Are you sure?”

“I’ll try and cope with anything you throw my way.” Despite himself, he smiled. “But won’t you tell me why you find the idea of a match so outlandish?”

When she shook her head, he wasn’t sure whether she expressed confusion or denial. As she recovered from her astonishment, her voice firmed. “For a start, I’ve only seen you half a dozen times in the last ten years.”

“So I feel like a stranger?”

“Not exactly.” Those gray eyes settled on him with such a searching expression that he shifted his booted feet in sudden discomfort. “But you don’t feel like a suitor either.”

“I’m willing to court you, if that’s what you prefer.” It wasn’t what he preferred. He’d hoped that she’d say yes, he’d have the banns called, they’d marry in a couple of weeks, and the whole inconvenient palaver would be done and dusted with a minimum of fanfare.

“I don’t know what I prefer, frankly.” She spread her hands. “This has come as a surprise.”

“Perhaps I should have written before I called.”

“I’d still be surprised that you’re offering for me. You’ve never shown any interest before.”

“I’ve always liked you.”

“And I’ve always liked you.” She made another helpless gesture. “But that’s not grounds for marriage.”

He set his jaw stubbornly. “Why not?”

“Because—”

Because there was no love. They both knew that. He went on before she could finish. “A marriage could solve quite a few problems for both of us. I’m thirty-four. It’s time I set up my nursery with a sensible, good-hearted woman, willing to make a useful life with me. From your point of view, please forgive me if I trespass on matters that aren’t my concern—”

“Which means you’re going to,” she said sharply. With every minute, she looked less downtrodden. She was sitting up so straight, her spine could have doubled as a ship’s mast.

He ignored her interruption and ventured closer. Would it help to take her hand? A glance at her face told him it wouldn’t. “It’s no secret that your father made some disastrous investments, and I suspect your portion isn’t what it was.”

That was why he’d asked about her plans, to check that he was right about the unappealing options available to her. She might intend to marry someone else. But she didn’t mention an attachment, and surely she would if there was one. It wasn’t very worthy, but he’d arrived, hoping she might choose to marry him to escape a bleak future.

Two bright spots of color marked her cheeks, and she glared at him as though she disliked him. “I have enough to live on.”

“As long as you retire to some backwater, or you swallow your pride and move in with Susan.”

“She’s my closest family.”

“She’s also very happy to take on an unpaid nursemaid.” Eight years older than Jane, Susan had always been a little cat with a sharp eye to the main chance. He’d never really taken to her. “Is that the best you can do?”

Jane swallowed and avoided his probing stare as he stood over her. “You’re…you’re very blunt, my lord.”

My lord? Hell, he really had upset her.

He sighed and retreated, cursing himself for a thoughtless bully. What in Hades was wrong with him? The world commended his perfect manners, yet here he was acting the complete boor. “I’m making a muddle of this.”

“Could you…could you sit down, so I don’t feel like you’re about to seize me by the scruff of the neck and give me a good shake?” Her voice trembled, as she fought to maintain her composure.

“Damn it, I meant to woo you, not harangue you,” he said ruefully, subsiding into his chair.

Straightaway she looked more at ease, and her bosom rose as she sucked air into her lungs. He couldn’t help noticing how very nicely she filled out that unenticing bodice. With difficulty, he dragged his eyes up to her face.

She gave a shaky laugh and smoothed her austere coiffure, not that it needed it. “And I haven’t even said no.”

“Imagine if you had,” he retorted, before he registered what she said. He leaned forward eagerly. “So you will marry me?”

The humor drained from her face, returning her to the wan shadow she’d been when he arrived. His gut tightened in protest at seeing her this beaten down. She looked so weary, he just wanted to pick her up and take her somewhere she’d never suffer again.

What the deuce? That was a more powerful reaction than he’d anticipated. He’d embarked on this course after coldly and calmly weighing his alternatives. Yet here with Jane, his confused feelings were making him stupid.

“Why do you want to marry me?” He heard the effort she made to keep her voice steady. He also noted she didn’t answer his question. Was that a good sign or a bad one?

He couldn’t tell, although he’d thought he knew her well. Damn it, that familiarity was one of the things that convinced him she’d make a fine wife. Yet looking into the face that he’d never considered anything remarkable, he recognized the presence of mystery.

“I told you.”

“Because we both offer a convenient solution to the other’s difficulties.”

When he heard the tartness lacing her soft voice, Garson hid a grimace. He shifted uncomfortably on his chair. He hadn’t handled his premier foray at all well, blast him. Was it too late to regroup? “It’s true. As I said before, I like you.”

His lukewarm declaration didn’t deserve to move her. And it quite clearly didn’t. “You’re a rich, attractive man with no obvious vices. You must have your pick of society’s unmarried ladies. Women younger than me who can give you babies, and who I’m sure you could come to like without too much trouble.”

He noticed that she, too, avoided the word “love.” But then, that was the issue that narrowed the list of candidates for his bride to one. Most women expected something stronger than friendship from their future husband.

“Jane, when I saw you at your father’s funeral, I thought you’d make me an ideal wife.” He was relieved to hear himself sounding calm and measured, the soul of logic. He had no idea what had come over him when he’d first proposed. He’d like to blame the ale, but it was an insipid brew. “I’m not a foolish boy anymore. Nor are you a silly girl. You’re a grown woman of good sense. I believe we could make an excellent life together. I pledge my respect and fidelity. You must remember that when I make a promise, I keep it.”

“I do remember.”

Encouraged, he went on. “Think of the advantages. You’ll be mistress of a great house. You’ll have money to do whatever you wish. It’s the life you were born for, not a hand-to-mouth existence as an indigent spinster in cramped lodgings a hundred miles from the fashionable world. Or would you rather be your sister’s dogsbody? You have a choice, Jane. Penury and isolation, or a full, purposeful life as my wife, and the mother of my children.”

“I’d like children,” she said haltingly.

“You’ll make a wonderful mother. You‘ll make a wonderful baroness. Please say you’ll marry me.”

Strangely this speech left her looking more troubled than his hectoring. For a long time, she stared down into her lap, then she glanced up, gray eyes somber. “That’s a very nice proposal, Hugh.”

The tension across his shoulders loosened. She called him Hugh. That meant she relented.

“It’s what I should have said when I arrived. I’m sorry I was such a dunderhead. I’m out of the habit of proposing.”

She didn’t smile. “But then, you have proposed before, haven’t you?”

His blood ran cold. Damn and blast, had the gossip about his failed engagement spread as far as this remote estate? What an ass he was. Of course it had. Susan would share all the on dits in her letters.

“That was over three years ago,” he said stiffly, even as he warned himself about getting all het up again.

Jane sat up straight on her window seat and lifted her chin. Her tone was uncompromising, and her eyes were watchful. “It doesn’t matter how long ago it happened, if you’re still in love with Morwenna Nash.”