“I could, but Gerard has—” She paused suddenly, as if reconsidering what she was about to say.
“He has what?” Rayne prodded.
Miss Ellis shrugged. “He has his own future to see to. And I don’t want to burden him when I am perfectly capable of earning my own living.”
“Ah, yes,” Rayne said lightly. “Your vaunted independence.” When she gave him a quelling glance, he added, “It cannot be easy for a lady to make her way in the world alone, which is why I assumed marriage would seem a preferable alternative for you.”
That amused gleam returned to her eyes. “How singular that a bachelor such as yourself would be so interested in my marital prospects, Lord Haviland.”
In point of fact, he had indeed been thinking of matrimony a great deal of late, since he’d promised his grandmother he would settle down and produce heirs. “Most women of your age are interested in marriage,” Rayne replied, keeping the focus of the conversation on her.
“In my position as companion, I had little opportunity to meet any eligible gentlemen. At least not any I would want for my husband. And a good marriage is not readily made if you have neither rank nor fortune to recommend you. It is even more difficult if you lack beauty.”
She seemed to hold a pragmatic attitude about her looks and her fortune as well. Miss Ellis ran her gloved hand admiringly over the plush velvet squabs. “I confess I am not accustomed to such luxury. Lady Talwin’s carriage was nearly an antique, since she rarely left the house during her last years.”
His mouth curved wryly. “It is one advantage of having a wealthy family. My grandmother was an heiress.”
Her brow furrowed. “If I may ask, how did a wealthy nobleman’s son end up serving in the Foreign Office?”
“I suppose you could say I was the black sheep of my family.”
He neglected to mention the boyhood incident that had utterly changed his life, when he’d saved a young thief from arrest and probable hanging. As a consequence, Rayne had received a unique education in the lower classes and the London stews—including the squalor and the criminal elements who resided there—and thus had developed any manner of skills that had served him well later in his chosen profession.
“Did your family approve of your avocation?” she asked when he was silent.
Rayne’s mouth twisted with humor. “Not in the least. Spying is not a particularly honorable profession.”
“I know. Papa was barely considered a gentleman, even though he was an officer.”
“My family preferred to pretend I was off traveling the world, sowing my wild oats. That was how my grandmother in particular explained my frequent absences from England.”
“Then why did you choose such a career?”
“The truth is,” he replied honestly, “I wanted to make a difference in the world.”
She nodded. “That was Papa’s sentiment exactly.” Madeline’s gaze searched his face. “And now? I should think you would miss it after so many years of dedication to a cause.”
Rayne felt surprise that she seemed to understand why he found himself at loose ends. It was not that he regretted the war’s end. On the contrary, he was infinitely glad to see the last of death, destruction, and deception. Yet he missed his fulfilling life as a spymaster—saving lives, righting injustices, championing the weak, and experiencing daring adventures.
For most of his adult life, he’d been driven by one single overriding purpose—to win the bitter, bloody struggle against Napoleon Bonaparte—and he had yet to find a suitable replacement to fill the emptiness of his days. He still had not grown entirely accustomed, either, to the stark changes he’d faced upon his return to civilian life. Nor had he adapted well to the meaningless social expectations of the ton.
“I do indeed miss it,” he said finally, “but my familial obligations take precedence for now. My own father died last year, far earlier than I could have wished. I never wanted to inherit the earldom, but it was my lot since I am an only son.”
She smiled. “I suspect there are very few gentlemen who would feel as you do.”
“Perhaps so,” he agreed congenially.
“I would have preferred to be born a man,” she said rather wistfully. “When I was a child I wanted to march off to war and fight evil and tyranny. It was only when I grew older that I realized how terrible war can be.” Her voice turned quiet. “My father rarely spoke of his experiences, but the haunted look in his eyes….”
“Your father was an incredibly courageous man,” Rayne said softly.
“How did he save your life?”
“He had gained intelligence about a scouting party in the area where we were traveling and so was more alert than usual when we came upon an ambush. When we were attacked, he startled my horse to one side just as one of the enemy soldiers fired at me. The bullet lodged harmlessly in the tree behind me instead of my head or my chest.”
“I am glad you were spared,” she said quietly.
She fell silent then, apparently lost in thought, while Rayne’s reflections shifted from his past to his future.