“If he’s that petty minded, I won’t want him,” she snapped. “But I hope I’m a better judge of character than that.”
Leo didn’t know what to say to that. “Who is this large-minded gentleman?”
She gave him a cool smile and rose to her feet. “That, Lord Salcott, is none of your business. Thank you for calling. I have a luncheon engagement shortly. Good day.”
Leo didn’t move. “Whoever he is, he will still call on me first, unless you intend to declare to all and sundry that I am not in fact your guardian.”
She frowned. “But you will send him to me for the final answer?”
He shrugged. “If I think he is suitable.”
“No! I thought I’d made it clear—”
He shook his head. “The kind of men you’ve been encouraging, anyone would think you’re a fortune hunter.”
“I am.”
“What?”
“A fortune hunter. Oh, don’t look so shocked, what else can I be? Or are you as hypocritical as the rest? It’s perfectly acceptable for nice young society ladies to strive to make ‘a good marriage’—to a man with the fattest fortune and the noblest title—but let an illegitimate girl of no fortune try and it’s somehow underhanded and despicable.” She snorted. “I’m just more open about it, that’s all. If I fail to marry well, I have nothing to fall back on. Like my mother.” She raised her chin, knowing he would be recalling how her mother survived her poverty.
And he was. The thought horrified him. “What about Clarissa?”
“At the moment Clarissa shares her income with me—we agreed to it long ago, as recompense for our father’s failure to provide for me and my mother. But I have no intention of battening on my sister’s generosity forever. So I must make the kind of marriage that will ensure security for myself and any children I might have.”
Leo could see that. He didn’t have to like it, but he had to acknowledge that her logic made sense.
“I thought all young ladies dreamed of falling in love.”
She let out a huff of cynical laughter. “Strange how so many of them find it so much easier to fall in love with a man with a title and a substantial fortune—think about all those girls so very willing to fall in love with you, Lord Salcott.”
She shook her head. “I’m not so hypocritical. I won’t feign love, but I will make the man I accept an excellent wife. I am a bargain.”
“Abargain?” The term offended him. “What the hell does that mean?”
She began furiously listing things off on her fingers. “I’m loyal—unlike many wives who make practical marriages, he won’t ever have cause to doubt my fidelity; I will be a good and devoted mother; I will make his house a home, where he will be comfortable, a place where he will be proud to welcome his friends. His interests would be my interests. You see,” she added with a small cool smile, “I understand all the requirements of good wifehood.”
Somehow the recital of her wifely qualities disturbed him. He had no quarrel with any of them in theory, but it was as if she were, in some way he couldn’t pinpoint, diminishing herself. Reducing herself to a list, squashing herself into a mold. As if she were applying for a job—which he supposed in a way, she was. But oh, he did not like it. She was so much more than that.
She hadn’t even mentioned the qualities that were most likely to land her this theoretical man of substance—her beauty and vivacity. And they were only part of what made her special and desirable.
And she’d said nothing about the obligations of the husband. Would this fellow—Leo despised him already—be faithful to her? Leo doubted it. Would he treat her well, respect her, cherish her as she deserved to be cherished? No, he would not.
The kind of rich man who would choose a lovely young woman like Isobel Studley, a woman with no family to protect her, would no doubt treat her like a possession, rather than a woman. Or like a servant. He’d seen it before...
“I can see what this man might get from such a marriage, but what about you? What would you get from such a cold-blooded arrangement?”
She looked at him as if he were dense. “A home of my own. A place where I belong—mine!—where nobody could throw me out or move me on. A place to raise my children. A family.”
“You could have all that with me.” His voice cracked as he said it.
She shook her head. “You only offered for me out of a sense of obligation. Nobody dreams of beingan obligation. And if I had accepted your offer, how long would it be before you were thinking I’d somehow entrapped you? I’ve seen how that ends up—with bitterness and resentment. No, better a cold-blooded practical arrangement, as you call it, where both sides know what’s expected. Besides,” she added after a moment. “I have no interest in a title.”
Leo couldn’t think of a thing to say. His thoughts were in turmoil. All he knew was that he desired her—lord, but he’d never felt such powerful desire in his life—but it was true that it was guilt that had prompted his proposal. And while he’d been shocked at her refusal, there was also a trickle of relief. And a great deal of confusion.
Only one thing was clear to him: he hated what she was preparing to do. Voices in the hall indicated the chaperone and Clarissa had returned from their errand. The door flew open and Mrs. Price-Jones stood in the doorway. “Lord Salcott, I’m shocked,” she declared. “Calling on Miss Isobel when you knew I was out.”
Leo rose to his feet. “And here’s your precious charge, Mrs. Price-Jones,” he said sarcastically, “uncompromised and untouc—” He broke off, recalling that he had both compromised and thoroughly touched Isobel last night.
