her strong hand in his, looked into her forget-me-not eyes, and said, “If your father were here, I would speak to him first, but as that’s not possible, I will take the liberty of speaking directly to you.”
“Oh, James,” she began, but he shook his head. He was committed now. It would be cowardly to give up before he began.
“I will come to the point,” he said. “I would like you to do me the honor of becoming my marchioness. Of being my wife.”
“James, I—”
“Truly, Annis, you must let me finish my speech,” he said, pulling a wry mouth, and pleased at the dry humor he managed to produce in his voice. “I rehearsed it, you see.”
Her little smile of comprehension and sympathy melted his heart, and he had to restrain himself from crushing her into his arms. He stood even more stiffly than before, holding her hand at a little distance from his body. He pulled in his chin, fortifying himself against the disappointment to come.
“I have never met a young lady like you,” he said. “And while at first I was—somewhat surprised—”
“Shocked, you mean to say,” she said. “Perhaps even revolted.”
“No, no, not that. Well, perhaps, a little bit. But in these few days of our acquaintance, I’ve come to admire the very qualities that—uh, startled me. We share many interests, especially our passion for good horses. Your life would be comfortable. Although there are duties that go with the title, I think you would not find them onerous. And,” he added, with a self-deprecating lift of his shoulder, “my mother would be pleased.”
“You mean, because she believes Papa will settle a lot of money on me.”
“I’m afraid your stepmother has made that clear to her.”
“Oh yes, my stepmother will surely have done that.”
He blew out a breath. “Money is a consideration for us, I’m afraid, but it’s not by any means the reason for my proposal. I promise you that. I thought, under the circumstances, that frank speaking between us would be best.”
“Of course,” she said. “I much prefer it.” Gently, she withdrew her hand from his. “I will speak frankly, too, James. I thank you for your offer of marriage, but I must decline on two counts.” She stepped back a little and met his eyes with her unnerving blue gaze.
“First,” she said. “I have no intention of marrying anyone. I don’t think the restrictions of marriage would suit me. Second,” she said, a little hurriedly, as if expecting him to interrupt, “I would hate to think that someone—anyone—should marry me for Papa’s money.”
“I’ve tried to make clear the money is not everything, Annis.”
“You’ve done a fair job of that, but still, as you say, it is a consideration.”
“I suppose I haven’t presented my suit in the poetic way that might persuade you.”
She exclaimed, with a laugh, “Poetic! I would hate that!”
He laughed, too. “Yes, probably. And I would be terrible at it, but do let me make a clean breast of everything. There’s no doubt that Seabeck needs an infusion of money. Marriage, I believe, is an economic agreement as well as—for the most fortunate—a romantic one.”
“I understand that,” she said, nodding. “Money can be useful. I intend to use mine for my bloodline, for example, to acquire more mares, expand my stables—”
“But you could do that here,” he said.
Her eyebrows lifted. “Here?”
“Of course.” He waved his arm to indicate the expanse of Seabeck all around them. “We have adequate stables, but we could make them bigger. We have an abundance of pasture and some excellent seed stock right here in Dorset.”
“But, James, everyone here in England is so—so old-fashioned. So stuffy. They would never let a woman like me breed horses!”
James could see he had no hope of convincing her, and he was dismayed at how much it hurt. It was physical, an ache deep in his solar plexus. He struggled to hide it from her, to maintain some remnant of his dignity.
He said, “You forget that there is the title. I’m a marquess, and only a duke—or Her Majesty and her children, of course—rank higher. We are often the ones who break the rules.”
“I don’t see you as the kind of man who enjoys breaking rules.”
“Ah. You think I’m stuffy, too.” He managed to produce a grin, and took pride in it.
She answered, in her blunt way, “Yes. A bit.”
There seemed to be nothing else to say. No other argument he could make. He cleared his throat again and immediately regretted it. He