father’s wishes. I already know that. I lived it.”
He trailed his fingers lightly over her shoulder, her ribs, letting his hand rest at her waist. “Then I haven’t explained it well. I could have turned my back on him for you, and had it only been a matter of his will, I would have. But it was tenants. Livelihoods. The future. Hungry bellies and hopeful eyes.
“If it were only up to me,” he added, “the scale would never balance against you. Not then, not now, not ever.”
His hand on her waist was a weight, making it hard for her to draw breath. “But it’s not only up to you.”
“Not then, not now, not ever.” His tone was quiet. “But the hope’s now in my eyes, and the scale is yours to balance, Marianne. I’ve seen everyone else taken care of but you. And me.”
“I don’t expect or want you to take care of me.” After his low tone, she sounded harsh.
He hesitated. “I know you don’t need it.” Then his hand stroked Marianne’s side again. Quick trailing fingertips, halting movements. “My marriage wasn’t really anything of the sort. Helena—she loved my sister Viola. Not me. And Viola loved her in return.”
This was unexpected news. “Your wife...loved your sister?” Marianne had always assumed Helena Wilcox, pretty and rich and kind, had given her heart to Jack. Who wouldn’t? And of course, living as man and wife, he would have come to love her in return.
“Her love for Viola is why Helena agreed to marry me.” His hand went still, the palm flat and heated on her side. “I thought you might suspect, when after Helena’s death, you addressed letters of condolence to my mother and sister.”
“I did that to show how proper I was. That as a spinster, I wouldn’t write to a man.” Her thoughts were in a jumble, as if she were trying to sort out parts of two different recipes and combine them into one. But how did this fit—? And did that mean—?
“You were so proper that I completely misunderstood,” Jack said dryly.
“That’s half the purpose of manners.”
“Maybe so.” Jack chuckled. “We had separate chambers, Helena and I, from the moment of the wedding. Her chamber was...much closer to my sister’s than it was to mine. Both women were happier that way.”
“Oh,” was all Marianne could say. There had been a great deal to balance against the possibility of her marriage to Jack. Even more than she’d realized.
“When Helena died,” Jack said, “Viola grieved her as a spouse. I grieved the loss of a friend who had done me a great kindness.”
“Bringing all that money to your marriage,” Marianne said. Money, money, money. She usually wanted to punch down dough when she thought of it. Now she didn’t know what she wanted.
“Yes,” he said simply. “And along with her, I grieved the end of my marriage. Though it was in name only, I’d changed my whole life for it. What was I to do now?”
She rested a hand on his face, wanting to feel each nuance of movement, of expression. “You’d money enough to do whatever you wanted.”
“So I did.” He smiled, cheek and lips moving under her touch. “So I did.”
She half expected him to say he’d come tearing after her at once, though she knew it wasn’t true. He’d been widowed for a proper two years now. “What did you do with all the time since?” she finally asked.
“Amidst the conventions of mourning, I made myself the sort of man I’d always wanted to be. I learned languages. I studied drainage to improve my land. I made my body strong with fencing and running. I read history and mathematics. I visited the ailing and needy. I went to church every week. It was only then I realized that, worthy though my pursuits were, I was only filling time. I wasn’t happy myself. I felt nothing but duty and the savorless pleasure of obligations fulfilled. I missed feeling more.”
“Oh.” Should she say more? She didn’t know what it should be, yet there was clearly more to say.
“That’s when I came here to see you.”
“Oh,” she said again, softened. She traced the shape of his features, his jaw, the line of his ear. There was much she needed to learn about him, and to relearn.
“I can speak to you in Italian or French or German, or even Latin,” he said dryly. “I can check the drainage around the house or convert your recipes into large quantities and