“Not all women would regard that as a blessing. How do you know you would do so?”
She laughed. “I’ve known since I was thirteen. Our cousin Susan became ill that summer, and I went to Surrey to help care for her. She and her husband have eight children and a big house in the country, and because my father had taken to drink again, Irene thought it would be good for me to go away for a bit. In Surrey, I discovered not only how much I love children, but also that I have a talent for managing them.” She paused, and though she didn’t smile, her face lit up suddenly, as if the sun had just come back out, as if she was looking through him, past him, into her future. “If I had children, I’d never be bored.”
His cynical side was impelled to remind her of reality. “Yes, you would.”
“Well, perhaps I would sometimes,” she said. Unexpectedly, she grinned. “But not often, I can promise you, because like my cousin Susan, I intend to have at least eight. Maybe ten. How often can one be bored with a family of ten? What?” she added, her grin changing to a puzzled frown as he laughed.
“Ten children, my sweet, is not a family. It’s a village.”
“Oh, I want that, too,” she assured him. “A village, I mean.”
“Greedy girl.”
“I am, I confess it. I want that big house in the country, and I want a village nearby, and thatched-roof cottages, and a parish church. And horses and dogs and apple orchards and a husband who loves me like mad.”
“And you’ll all live happily ever after,” he said solemnly.
She made a face at him. “Make fun of me if you like, but that’s the life I want.”
“Is it?” he asked before he could stop himself. “Or is it merely that you want escape from the life you’ve had?”
Her smile vanished, her face went stiff, and he wanted to bite his tongue off. Still, damn it all, with that rosy picture in her head, she was just begging for life to disappoint her. Worse, he was reasonably sure she had no idea how easy it would be for a man to take advantage of her idealistic view. He could just imagine some wastrel with a glib tongue and an eye on her newly-acquired connections giving her a line of patter about life in the country and plenty of children, and she’d fall right into his lap like a ripe plum. Her father would certainly not be able to protect her from such a man.
Still, it wasn’t any of his business what she chose for her life. “My apologies,” he muttered. “That was a boorish thing to say.”
“Yes,” she agreed, giving him no quarter. “It was.”
“You mustn’t mind the things I say, Clara. Anyone who knows me well knows I’m a terribly cynical fellow.”
Strangely, the stiffness eased out of her face, and she smiled a little. “I don’t know you well at all, and I’m already aware of that fact.”
He chuckled. “Fair enough. I just hope I haven’t ruined this friendship of ours before it’s even begun? Because if I have,” he added before she could answer, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the invitation, “you won’t accept this, and my great-aunt will shred me into spills, a painful experience I’d prefer to avoid.”
“And what is this?” she asked as she took the envelope from him.
“Petunia and several of her friends have arranged a picnic party in Hyde Park for Wednesday next. I called upon my aunt earlier today, and when I mentioned my next order of business was a call upon you, she asked me to deliver it. The duke’s family is included in the invitation, by the way.”
“Thank you. It was very kind of your aunt to invite me, and to include them. I can’t say if we are free that day until I ascertain their schedules.”
“Of course. The doings will be just across from Galbraith House, so come through the Stanhope Gate. They’re setting up a big marquee, I understand, so you’re sure to find us.”
She nodded and set the envelope on the tea tray beside her, then returned her attention to him. “About what you said a moment ago...”
“Yes?” he prompted when she paused.
“I don’t deny that I am hoping to trade the life I have known for one that I believe would make me happier. You think that is my attempt to run from my father’s drinking?”
“Isn’t it?”
She thought about it for a moment, then she shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. Because no matter how much I might wish to escape—as you put it—I would never make a marriage for any reason other than deep and mutual love.”
“Love?” He sighed. “My dear girl, why would you ever marry for love? Don’t you want to be happy?”
“Says the man who tells me not to pay attention to anything he says.”
“In this case, you should, because I’m in dead earnest, Clara. If you are looking for happiness in marriage, love is hardly a reliable indicator.”
“Oh?” she countered, quirking a brow at him as she lifted her teacup. “And I suppose your experience as a single man has given you such extensive experience with matrimony?”
