Mary Nichols - Regency High Society Vol 5 - The Disgraced Marchioness / The Reluctant Escort / The Outrageous Debutante / A Damnable Rogue

‘No!’ Her head snapped up, her eyes sparkling with quick temper. ‘The thought of such charity appals me!’

‘Are you in a position to refuse? For your son, if not for you?’ He kept his voice deliberately gentle. ‘You married Thomas in good faith. I suggest that the estate owes you enough and more to allow you and the child to live in comfort. Don’t reject it out of hand, I beg of you.’

‘No!’ He watched her struggle for control, but then she sighed, and although she kept her head high in defiance against the agonies that the fates had flung in her path, her answer was bitter and plumbed the depths of despair. ‘Your are right, of course. How could you not be? For my son’s sake I must realise that I have no right to refuse. I must accept Edward’s… kindness! ,

‘Can I tell you what I think?’ Unable to remain seated, unable to bear her pain without sheltering her in his arms, Hal rose to his feet to stand beside the fireplace. ‘I don’t think you should shut yourself away in the depths of the country. It would be a terrible mistake. You are young. Very beautiful. There is no reason why you should not attract a husband and marry again. And find contentment, even happiness.’

She was silent, eyes wide as they connected with his.

‘You look as if you had never contemplated the possibility!’

‘No. How could you expect it? My situation would hardly attract a husband. No man would want his wife to be the subject of gossip and speculation. And without a dowry, not to mention an illegitimate child into the bargain.’ She hesitated a moment. ‘Apart from the fact that my experience of marriage would not encourage me to repeat it. I think not!’

Henry remained motionless, elbow resting against the heavy oak mantel, face set, no hint of the direction of his thoughts. Then, ‘I would marry you, Eleanor.’ He ignored her sharp intake of breath, as much surprised as she. ‘I would protect your reputation from the world’s censure with my name.’ He stepped across to her, reached down to still her restless fingers with his own. ‘Consider the advantages before you refuse.’

As he watched her reaction, one of utter amazement, he was forced to admit to his own astonishment at his words, which had come unplanned, unbidden, but at the same moment knowing in his heart that he wanted it more than anything—to protect and shield her from his brother’s disastrous and ill-chosen course of action. But he was by no means certain of her response to his offer, and could have wished it unsaid as he saw the reaction sweep over her.

Eleanor flinched as if she had been struck, a sharp open handed slap, her face becoming ashen as blood drained from beneath her fair skin. Her hands flexed under his. When she could find words to speak around the confusion of horror and intense longing in her mind, it was the horror and bone-deep humiliation that emerged to the surface, to colour her answer.

‘Do you really think that I would leap at the prospect of marriage to you, Hal? After your deliberate and callous rejection of me?’ Her voice was low, a bare whisper, but laced through with deadly venom.

‘Why not?’ Her refusal did not surprise him to any degree—but the tone of it hurt. ‘I did not reject you…’ What use going over this old ground? ‘Surely we can deal well enough together, given the present circumstances. I can offer you security and respect, a comfortable life for you and your son.’

But not your love! ‘Two years ago you did not want me.’ She held up her hand, palm outward toward him, as he would have refuted this accusation once more. ‘So why change your mind now? How dare you offer me pity!’

‘I would never offer you pity, Nell.’

‘No? It is the only reason I can think of, why you would offer me marriage now! Or do you think that our night here together might compromise my reputation? It may have escaped your notice, Hal, but I have no reputation.’ The bitter irony lay heavily between them. ‘You owe me nothing! I suppose I should thank you for making the grand gesture so selflessly, in spite of your attachment to Rosalind. You should feel proud of that. But you will doubtless be relieved to know I refuse your offer! There is no need to make the ultimate sacrifice for me.’ Pushing back her chair, she stood, her eyes now level with his and full of contempt.

‘Think what you wish, Nell. But don’t be so quick to misjudge me.’ There was a hint of temper in his voice, brows snapped together. ‘I would give you and the child—Thomas’s son—some security, some respectability—some recompense for the loss of all you had hoped for, if you wish. There could be worse scenarios, as you yourself admitted.’

‘I don’t doubt it! I could live in the gutter with the dispossessed of London!’ He was taken aback by the sneer. The débutante he had known did not sneer. ‘But to live in gratitude for your sacrifice for the rest of my life? For my son and myself to be dependent on your charity? I will not. Rather Edward’s than yours!’

Tell her you love her, you fool. She is hurt and despairing and without hope. Of course she will refuse your offer! Take her in your arms and kiss that soft, sad mouth. Tell her that she holds your heart in her hands, and always will. And that Rosalind means nothing to you.

But in the face of such contempt he could not. He sighed, lips pressed together into a harsh line.

‘Go to bed, Eleanor. Perhaps we have both said too much this night.’ He turned away, so did not see her blink back the tears before she turned to the door.

Well done! You handled that magnificently!

Henry flung himself back into the chair with a curse, disgust riding him hard. He had been given a chance to make her life easier, with care and consideration, with compassion. Perhaps even at some time in the future to win her love. Instead she was under an indestructible impression that he had made his move through pity. The barrier that she had built between them in the last halfhour was formidable indeed. And to be honest, he could not blame her. He had, unwittingly, helped her to heap stone upon stone between them.

He swore again and reached for the decanter of port to refill his glass.

And, even worse, she would in all probability refuse out of hand any help offered by him now.

Subtlety? Finesse in his dealings with women? Ha! He did not know the meaning of the words! Instead he had ridden roughshod over her feelings and sensibilities. To offer her marriage in such a situation had been crass in the extreme. But what man of honour could remain unmoved before so courageous and so lovely a woman in distress?

And he loved her.

He had tried to build her trust and, he thought, with some success. She had begun to relax a little in his company. He remembered her listening to his plans not an hour before, a smile on her face, a certain contentment in her eyes. Now all destroyed. He had hurt her pride—and she would feel that pride was all she had left. She was so sad and he had simply made it worse.

He drank the port, struck anew by the knowledge that, although she had now rejected his offer of marriage twice, he could still want her. And it had nothing whatsoever to do with pity!

What had she said to him? Hurtful things. Terrible things. She had meant none of them, but they could not be unsaid and now he would never forgive her. Eyes closed, she leaned with her back against the bedroom door, permitting the longing in her heart to sweep through her. What better future could she envisage than to allow him to take all her troubles on to his strong shoulders and let him stand protection against the world and its condemnation. And Tom. Her son would grow up with no slur on his name. As he should, as was his right.