“I’m not much good at this sort of thing. Thought I’d best say so at the start.” His voice was deep, gravelly, the vowels drawn wide in the way of Southwark streets. “Never thought I’d be meeting a lady like you under circumstances like these.”
Jane offered a small smile. “Neither did I.”
That earned another brief laugh. “Fair enough.”
She softened her tone. “I didn’t mean offense.”
“I’ve no false pride, miss. Made my fortune myself. Grew up in the workhouse by the London docks—an orphan.” He said it plainly, without bitterness. “Likely a by-blow myself. But no one’s special. My father wasn’t any duke, that’s certain. So I won’t begrudge you your child. Seems to me it’s a damn sight better off if it’s got someone willing to stand for it.”
Jane’s chin lifted a little. “I don’t pretend to be blameless, but there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my child.”
He smiled at that, kind but rough. “A pretty young lass like you thrown to the wolves—you’re the least to blame.”
She swallowed. No one had ever spoken to her so bluntly.
Mr. Wilson leaned forward slightly. “Now, you wouldn’t be marrying a pauper. I’ve coin enough. What I don’t have is the right name. Gentry don’t like granting charters to men they don’t recognize. Which is part of why I’m here.”
“I understand.” Jane’s voice was gentle, but firm. At least he was honest.
“You’re a viscount’s granddaughter. That matters. And your father was a rector, wasn’t he? Scholar too, they say.”
“Yes,” Jane said slowly. “He published several works on Christian morals.”
“Well, then.” He seemed genuinely pleased. “That’s something, isn’t it? A fine mind in the family. You’ll bring more to my house than just the Duke’s favor.”
Jane looked down at her gloves at the mention of the Duke. But her resolve renewed, and she sat straighter. “I have my ownmerits, sir. My father trained me himself. I hope you would not object if I pursued my studies further.”
His smile, sudden and boyish, softened him. “Not at all. Perhaps you could teach me a thing or two. Not to look out of place in Whitehall. I swear it’s as if they can sniff Southwark on me.”
Jane laughed despite herself. “I think it’s the accent, not that they’re hounds trained to sniff out a man from the Borough.” She sobered. “And you are sure the child doesn’t concern you?”
“Not in the least. I’d raise it as mine. And I expect to have you round with more soon enough—if that don’t bother you.”
Her lips twitched. “That would depend on how soon.”
He laughed—a rough, surprised sound. “Fair enough.”
A pause lingered, easier now. Then he leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees. “I won’t promise you the moon or roses. That’s not me. But if you pick me, I’ll take care of you. You’ll be mistress of my house. The child will never want for a thing. And if you’ll let me, I’ll do my best to make you happy.” His voice gentled. “That’s all I’ve got to offer. Honest work. A safe name. A man who means what he says.”
Jane met his eyes. He wasn’t polished, but he was steady. And there was something unexpectedly earnest in the way he looked at her.
He rose, smoothing his coat. “I’ll not take more of your time. You’ve others to meet, I hear. That’s fair. But I hope you’ll keep me in mind.”
He hesitated at the door, then added with a rough sincerity, “If you do choose me, Miss Ansley—I’ll make damn sure you never regret it.” And with that, he left her alone in the quiet room.
Chapter 33
Jane was unpinning her bonnet when the door of her room opened without warning. William strode in, shutting it firmly behind him. His eyes raked her face as if to read her pulse there.
“You should not be here,” she said sharply, rising at once.
“I came to ask after your health. You saw a physician this morning.”
Her chin lifted. “You trouble yourself more than necessary. I am quite well.”
“You were pale, you almost collapsed,” he pressed. “You’ve been unwell before. I had to be certain.”
Jane’s lips thinned. “It is not appropriate, my lord. You have your betrothed to consider.”
