by Abby Gaines
“You think I should find a wife.” He tugged at his cravat, loosening it.
“Not at all,” Marianne said, as they started back toward the house. “I know Emily was the only woman for you. I would never suggest... It’s just—” she smiled faintly “—if you were the more fickle sort, it might be more convenient for us all.”
Convenient. A convenient marriage.
People do that kind of thing. It’s perfectly acceptable. Perhaps it wasn’t the biblical ideal of marriage...but wasn’t the Bible full of people in arranged marriages that prospered? The instruction for a husband to love his wife didn’t specify a romantic love. Presumably it could as easily refer to more of a responsible kind of love, a sacrificial kind of love. He could do that.
And yet...he had a sudden urge to make a run for the stables, and ride his horse up into the hills for a very long time. Decades.
“Dom, I didn’t mean it.” Marianne shook his arm, jerking him back to the present. “We’ll find a solution. Perhaps by the time Hetty comes out there’ll be a new treatment. Maybe my aloe vera will do the trick.”
He would love to believe that. But the doctors said her condition was incurable. Indeed, it seemed to have worsened in the past couple of years.
If he married again, his new wife would need to understand that Marianne would likely always live with them. As he’d told Serena, his sister was unlikely to marry.
He shuddered. He wouldn’t think about the possibility of remarriage now. Besides, he had another unpleasant revelation for Marianne, one that the day’s events had driven temporarily from his mind.
“I have more bad news, my dear,” he said.
“More?” Marianne said, aghast. “Beyond Serena’s departure?”
“My groom met the groom from Farley Hall when he was out exercising the bay mare this morning.”
“It’s been far too long since I called on Sir Charles.” Their neighbor at Farley Hall, Sir Charles Ramsay, had lost his son in a carriage accident nearly a year ago. Marianne’s brow wrinkled. “Is he unwell?”
“Not at all. In fact, it’s good news for Ramsay, though not so pleasant for you,” Dominic said. “His new heir, a Mr. Geoffrey Beaumont, has arrived to stay for a month or two, to acquaint himself with the property. I’ll have to call on him next week.”
Marianne groaned. “If he has any manners at all, he’ll return the call.” Meeting strangers was torment for her.
Dominic nodded.
“And we, as owners of the largest home in the district—”
“Farley Hall is as large.” But she was right, the Granvilles were the incumbent gentry.
“—we’ll have to host a dinner to welcome him to the area,” she said miserably.
“I’m afraid so.”
“And I, as always, will be your hostess.” She swallowed. “It won’t be so bad. If we invite enough of our friends from around here, Mr. Beaumont will barely notice me, let alone feel compelled to stare at me as if I’m a freak.”
“I’m sorry, but it’s our duty,” Dominic said. “It may be scant comfort, but I always think you look lovely, Marianne, you know that.”
“I know, and I thank God daily for your delusion.” She squeezed his arm, then walked ahead of him through a side door into the house. “I wish I had a friend nearby, someone my own age, that I could invite to dinner. Someone I could laugh with, in whose company I wouldn’t care about others’ opinions. Or at least, would care less.”
Marianne’s secluded life meant she corresponded energetically by letter with a few girls from the seminary for female education she’d attended. But she didn’t like to travel, or to invite guests to stay. Her local friends were older women. Not close confidantes. Dominic could understand her need for a friend nearer her own age.
If he remarried, his children would gain a stepmother. Might his sister gain a friend?
Even if that were so, he could hardly marry in time for dinner with Mr. Beaumont.
* * *
Serena had asked a footman to set up quoits on the lawn for the children. Although it was only late April, the sun shone warm and the fresh air would do them good.
Thomas had brought Captain Emerald out from the stable, still in his jar, and had replenished the lizard’s stock of leaves, grasses and a few unfortunate insects. He and Hetty had given the younger children a fighting chance at quoits by setting the juniors’ throwing mark some ten paces in front of theirs. Dominic’s two dogs were wreaking havoc by chasing the rings as they sailed through the air.
Louisa wasn’t playing; she was content to cling to Serena’s skirts. Serena was referee...and though the children were good sports, there were sufficient squabbles to require regular intervention.
She was mediating a dispute between William and Charlotte when a shadow fell across her. She turned to see Dominic Granville.
He smiled.
How unexpected.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Granville,” Serena said. She hadn’t seen him since she’d left the library two days ago, but she imagined he was still railing against her impertinent interference—yes, she could acknowledge she’d taken unfair advantage of her change in status, had breached courtesy even among equals.
And yet he was smiling. Though, on closer inspection, his smile was not one of unadulterated joy. It was, in fact, rather tense.
Charlotte and William ceased their dispute immediately and straightened up in front of their father. “Hello, Papa,” they chorused. Louisa echoed them. The two older children were picking up the quoits at the other end of their pitch. They waved to their father, but knew to finish the job before they stopped to talk.
“Have you come to play quoits?” Serena asked. He’d never yet accepted one of her invitations to play with the children, but she lived in hope.
“No, thank you.” Today was obviously not to be the exception. “Miss Somerton, I wish to talk. Would you care to walk around the lawn with me?”
William and Charlotte had taken a few stealthy steps backward; as soon as they were out of their father’s line of sight, they trotted toward the twins.
“If this is about William tearing a page of Robinson Crusoe—” Serena decided to anticipate the problem rather than appear to be concealing it “—you can be sure I was very cross, and William has undertaken to repair it. On the bright side, his reading improved enormously....” She trailed off; Mr. Granville had closed his eyes in a pained sort of way.
“That’s not what I want to talk about,” he said. “Shall we walk?”
She inclined her head toward Louisa, who was unfortunately sucking her thumb through the muslin of Serena’s dress. He shook his head.
“Stay here, dearest, and watch the big children play,” Serena told the little girl. “Your papa and I must talk privately.”
As she brushed grass off her skirt—once again he’d found her covered in undergrowth—and made an attempt to rub dry the damp patch where Louisa had been sucking, she wondered what he wanted to discuss. Since he’d already dismissed her from her position, whatever he had to say now couldn’t be that bad. She realized he was watching her cleanup with disapproval.
“All done,” she said brightly, if not entirely truthfully. “Let us go.”
His arm moved involuntarily, as if he might offer it for her to take. But that would suggest a level of acquaintance they didn’t have. Instead, they walked side by side, a respectable two or three feet of lawn between them. Mr. Granville’s hands were clasped behind his back; he appeared lost in thought.
He didn’t speak for some time. But as they neared the sundial at the far end of the lawn, he said, “I’ve been considering our conversation from Thursday.”
“The one in which you dismissed me from my post,” Serena said.
He cleared his throat. “Yes, that one.” He paused, squinting up at the sun, then down at the shadow on the sundial. “It pains me to say, I believe you’re right. It’s time I married again.”
Serena halted, forcing him to do the
same. “Really?”
“Why the surprise? You seemed convinced of the excellence of your idea.”
“I was— I am. But, Mr. Granville, if I may be frank—”
“Are you ever anything else?” he asked. “If so, I suspect I might prefer it.”
“I’m afraid not,” she admitted. “My father always encouraged me and my sisters to speak boldly and to speak the truth, as the Bible advises.”
“That must have made for some rather alarming conversations around the dinner table.”
She snickered. “I should remind you, the complete biblical instruction is to speak the truth with love.”
“That’s even worse. There’s nothing more irritating than people who tell one things for one’s own good.”
Serena laughed out loud. “So true!” At his sidelong look, she said, “Don’t think I don’t know I’m guilty of it myself. As temptations go, it’s one of the most insidious.”
“Hmm.” He pushed aside the branch of a shrub that threatened to dislodge her bonnet. “Is your sister, the one married to Lord Spenford, as bold as you?”
Serena considered. “Not on first acquaintance, but Constance has hidden depths. I’m the oldest daughter, so perhaps I’m more...”
“Impertinent?” he suggested.
“Forthright,” she corrected.
“And what is your advanced age, Miss Somerton?”
“I’m twenty-one. Constance—Lady Spenford—is twenty.” She followed him through the arbor into the rose garden. The roses, the pride and joy of Gladding the gardener, were in varying stages of bloom, from tight buds to full blossoms on some of the China varieties. None were yet overblown. Serena sniffed the air appreciatively. “Mmm, you can just catch the scent, if you try.”
“Very nice,” he said, making no attempt to sniff. “I assume your younger sisters are not yet married?”
“No,” she agreed.
He shook his head. “Your poor father.”
“Mr. Granville!” she exclaimed, outraged. Then she caught a gleam of humor in his eyes. “You’ll be relieved to know Papa doesn’t consider himself poor. He’s been known to say he’d love all five of us to live with him and Mama forever.”
“Diplomacy is an important skill for a parson,” Mr. Granville said.
Serena found herself laughing again.
His gaze drifted down to her mouth, then jerked back up. “I daresay your sisters will be easy enough for your father to marry off,” he said abruptly. “Assuming they don’t make a habit of wearing lizards in their hair.”
“That habit is uniquely mine,” she assured him. “Though I’m devastated to learn it might cost me a husband.”
His eyes narrowed. “It’s a matter of decorum, Miss Somerton.”
“A man who loves me will not care about decorum.”
“Is that so?” he said dryly. “Will he also appreciate your excessively free speech?”
“Might I remind you, Mr. Granville, you started this unusual conversation, for reasons you have yet to reveal. The only reason I’m participating so freely is because I’m about to leave.”
He rubbed his chin. “Ah.”
He looked...awkward.
“If you’re feeling guilty about dismissing me, you needn’t,” she said. “I was aware that once you learned of Constance’s marriage my position would be untenable.”
“I’m not feeling guilty,” he said, as if he’d never heard anything so absurd.
She almost managed not to roll her eyes. “So what is the reason for this conversation?”
“Ah, that,” he said. He cleared his throat. “Given that I’ve now decided you were right about a convenient marriage being a good idea...”
“I said I couldn’t wholeheartedly approve of such pragmatic motives,” she corrected. “But that I understand the necessity.”
He ignored her. “I personally have no faith in this second chance of yours, nor do I desire to marry again, but I see no option. The kind of alliance you mentioned will do nicely.” His frown deepened. “It will do,” he amended, dispensing with any niceness attached to the concept of marriage.
“Oh,” Serena said.
“Have I shocked you, Miss Somerton? I expected a more vocal response.”
“I...” She stopped. Thought. “I can’t deny it’ll be wonderful for the children, but it does seem a shame you won’t even consider finding a real wife.”
“My wife will be as real as you are,” he said. “Miss Somerton, in the light of my new intention, there’s something I must ask you.”
Realization burst over Serena like a lightning flash.
Mr. Granville’s unexpected friendliness. His questions about her family. My wife will be as real as you are....
He was going to ask her to marry him!
“No!” Serena squawked.
“No?” He plucked a leaf from a rosebush and rolled it between his fingers as he looked down at her, more confused than distressed.
But then, why would a man be distressed if a convenient bride turned down his proposal? The thought made it easier to say what she had to. “Mr. Granville, you are a most estimable gentleman, and I can’t deny I love your children, but to marry for convenience would be truly repugnant to me, and therefore...”
She stopped.
He was laughing.
“You...weren’t asking me to marry you?” she guessed. Suddenly, she was perspiring all over. How hideous!
“I’m afraid not,” he apologized. “It seems you and I share an unusual conviction of our own desirability as spouses.”
Relief at his acknowledgment that she wasn’t the only one who’d made an idiot of herself recently made her chuckle rather more loudly than was ladylike. Which wouldn’t surprise him.
“Shall we agree we’re equally deluded when it comes to nonexistent marriage proposals,” he said, “and move on?”
“Yes, please.”
“So...I gather from your refusal of my, er, proposal, that you cherish notions of a romantic love?”
Is this what he considers moving on? “Yes,” she said. Though she doubted such a love would come her way.
His dark brows drew together. “I suppose that’s not unusual in a young lady of your age.”
Serena merely nodded.
“My sister speaks highly of you,” he said.
The change in topic disconcerted her. “Thank you—I mean, Miss Granville is one of the nicest people I’ve met.”
“For some people, character is not the only consideration,” he said. “As I’m sure you know. You must also know that Marianne is uncomfortable meeting new people.”
“I’m aware,” Serena admitted. “And I can’t blame her.”
“I would go so far—” he seemed bemused “—as to say Marianne likes you a lot.”
“How odd,” she replied.
He smiled.
“I’d say I return the sentiment toward your sister,” she said, “but you’d probably consider me impertinent.”
“Miss Somerton,” he said calmly, “may we call a truce?”
Serena realized she was enjoying the cut and thrust of their conversational duel. It made her feel at home. “The Bible does say we should live peaceably with one another,” she admitted.
He chuckled at her marked lack of enthusiasm. “A truce, then. Good. For I would like to offer you a new position, Miss Somerton. That of companion to Marianne.”
“You want me to stay?” This was the last thing she’d expected.
“Let’s not get into personal preferences. I’m asking you to stay.”
She choked on a mix of shock and laughter. “Completely different,” she agreed.
He folded his arms across his chest and stood, watching her, a gleam in his eye. “Well, what do you say?”
“Mr. Granville, I— How can you even ask such a thing!”
Flustered at her own outburst, Serena turned away. She leaned over to smell the bouquet of a Maiden’s Blush bud. She could just see the furled petals, w
hite barely tinged with pink, vivid against the dark green foliage. It was known to be one of the most fragrant rose varieties, so she drew in several breaths deep enough to dizzy herself, in the hope he would have the tact to walk away.
When she straightened, he was still there.
“You gave the impression on Thursday that you were reluctant to leave,” he said coolly. “Are you now reluctant to stay?”
“No, I— Yes!” She clasped her hands in front of her. “Mr. Granville, in the last few minutes—and let us not forget Thursday!—I have spoken to you far more boldly than a governess should, on the understanding that I was no longer employed.”
“Far more boldly,” he agreed.
Infuriating man! If she’d hoped for courteous reassurance, she was looking in the wrong place. But her father preached the need to “confess your faults to one another.” Not that she’d done that with her parents, as far as her past indiscretion was concerned. Still, she persevered now. “And now, having stated views that, to be quite honest, are none of my business—”
“At last,” he murmured.
“—and speaking in such plain terms about matters of the heart—”
“My heart in particular,” he reminded her. Unnecessarily.
“—you’re asking me to stay. If I’d had any idea this would happen, I would never have presumed...”
“I suspect you would have,” he assured her. “Though perhaps with more subtlety.”
She made a sound of exasperation. “Mr. Granville, this is most embarrassing.” She paced, agitated, to a bush heavy with pink roses, and began fidgeting with a just-opened bloom.
“That variety is a China rose called Parson’s Pink,” he told her. She released it quickly. “If I promise to expunge this entire conversation from my memory, and Thursday’s, too,” he said, “will you stay?”
She shook her head, but couldn’t help smiling. “I doubt your ability to expunge so much. Tell me, why does Miss Granville need a companion now, when apparently she didn’t before?”
“I intend to begin my search for a wife immediately,” he said.
If that was meant to answer her question, she’d missed it. “Are you saying you’ll be traveling to London? And that your sister will need company in your absence?”
