He stood and without shifting his attention from her, leaned one brawny arm on the mantelpiece. The room suddenly seemed very small. Jane had never before been quite so aware of his vigorous, masculine energy.
Cavell Court had turned into a female domain, as her father faded and Jane, by necessity, took over the estate. Lord Garson seemed to come from a larger, more charged universe.
She swallowed to banish a ridiculous nervousness and edged back on the window seat until she bumped into the sill behind her. “I thought perhaps you might have a sick relative, if you don’t require a nurse for yourself.”
The genuine fondness in his expression reminded her how she’d hero-worshipped him when she was a child. “You’ve been tucked up away from the world too long, Jane. Surely you can guess what I want. I’m trying in my ham-fisted way to express my admiration.”
That left her more bewildered than ever. “Your admiration?” she repeated in a shamefully scratchy voice.
“Jane, I’m not here seeking a nurse.” His smile was wry as he stared down at her. “I’m here seeking a wife.”
*
Chapter Two
*
Garson’s heart sank as he watched shock flood Jane’s expression. He’d assumed she’d already have some idea of why he’d called, togged out in his best clothes and requesting a private interview, but her reaction made it clear that his offer came as a bolt from the blue. Not a particularly welcome bolt, at that.
Although she was no beaut
y, he liked her face. The even features were pleasing, and those wide, shining gray eyes didn’t miss much. He remembered that as a girl, she’d had a sly sense of humor and a quirky take on life and its vicissitudes.
But that had been before her father’s illness. Garson hadn’t seen much of her in recent years, an admission that now made him feel a little guilty. Studying the drawn face beneath that severely confined mass of dark red hair, he discerned few traces of her former spark.
She didn’t have to tell him the price family duty had exacted from her. He could see it in her features. Only her extravagant wealth of hair gave any real hint of vitality.
As a younger man, he’d never thought of Jane Norris as anything but the daughter of his father’s friend. At least in daylight hours. He’d frequently woken from heated dreams, where he was entwined in skeins of silky red hair, the exact color of Jane’s. Dreams that had been unacceptable then, and now struck him as downright perverse, with her sitting before him as neat and self-contained as a bloody nun. Her gray, high-necked dress, unadorned with anything as frivolous as a frill or a ribbon, just confirmed the fiercely virginal impression.
“What a mad idea.” In a nervous movement, one white hand rose to her throat. She had pretty hands, he noticed, slender and capable.
His eyebrows arched with a touch of hauteur. By God, she didn’t shirk from trampling his vanity. At the very least, he’d assumed she’d find his proposal flattering. In his more optimistic moments, he’d imagined her rushing headlong to accept him. Clearly that optimism was unfounded. “I’m sorry you think so.”
She flushed and made an apologetic gesture. At least her blush made her look less like a little ghost. “I beg your pardon. That wasn’t polite.”
He stepped away from the mantelpiece to approach her window seat. “I’d rather we were honest with one another.”
She regarded him doubtfully. “Are you sure?”
“I’ll try and cope with anything you throw my way.” Despite himself, he smiled. “But won’t you tell me why you find the idea of a match so outlandish?”
When she shook her head, he wasn’t sure whether she expressed confusion or denial. As she recovered from her astonishment, her voice firmed. “For a start, I’ve only seen you half a dozen times in the last ten years.”
“So I feel like a stranger?”
“Not exactly.” Those gray eyes settled on him with such a searching expression that he shifted his booted feet in sudden discomfort. “But you don’t feel like a suitor either.”
“I’m willing to court you, if that’s what you prefer.” It wasn’t what he preferred. He’d hoped that she’d say yes, he’d have the banns called, they’d marry in a couple of weeks, and the whole inconvenient palaver would be done and dusted with a minimum of fanfare.
“I don’t know what I prefer, frankly.” She spread her hands. “This has come as a surprise.”
“Perhaps I should have written before I called.”
“I’d still be surprised that you’re offering for me. You’ve never shown any interest before.”
“I’ve always liked you.”
“And I’ve always liked you.” She made another helpless gesture. “But that’s not grounds for marriage.”