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‘But you are already a companion to my mother. You must agree you take her mind from her grief.’
‘I do. But she tells me she is so much better already and she is.’
She studied the books. ‘Your mother said you had another book by the man who wrote Crusoe. I thought I might like it better. What was that man’s name?’
‘Defoe,’ he said, not letting her divert his attention.
‘I do not know how Crusoe ends,’ she said. ‘But he could not return to the same world. When a year passes. Two. So much changes if you do not see the people often. You cannot return to the same world as before. And neither can I. So I will move somewhere else. Somewhere smaller. While I have the chance to make a new life. I want children. But there are many motherless children. Many. I might gather some about me.’
‘You could have your own. Marry.’
‘Marriage.’ She shook her head. ‘Look at the grief that marriage has caused your mother. A husband and two children lost.’ She paused. ‘My mother did not truly have a husband. He was gone most of the time.’ She took another book as she spoke. ‘The woman who thinks of me as a daughter, her husband did not do right by her either. Marriage—’ She shrugged. ‘The pigs and goats and chickens do not marry. And yet women do. They think they can change—’ she looked at him ‘—nature. Yet the males of the species do not seem that particular.’
‘I will be loyal to my wife. A vow is a vow.’
‘You say that.’
‘I know that,’ he said. ‘I have— I made no vow yet to Louisa. But for her I gave up other women...to prove to myself I could do it...’ He had not thought it possible to go so long without a woman. ‘I assure you it has not been easy, but I make no idle promise. I can be a true husband.’
‘I am proud for you.’ She looked at the book she’d taken out and her mouth formed letters, before she stopped, watching him. ‘But I do not know if I can make such a vow.’
‘You jest.’
She shook her head and held the volume towards him, letting it rest in the air between them. ‘Sows. Ewes. Hens. They do not seem particular about their mates. Women, too, change their affections. Widows remarry. Women on Melos... I saw their hearts change. My mother’s did not after she married my father, but I could see that did her no good either.’
‘I pity the man who you might marry.’ His fingers clasped over the leather, but she didn’t release it and he didn’t pull it away.
‘That is why I should not wed. I wish to be happy. I like to smile.’
‘I think you would like giving a man grief, too.’ He looked at the book they held. Defoe. Roxana.
‘Ochi.’ A definite no. ‘I do not want a man close enough to give him any sorrow. It would rebound double on me.’
‘Your choice.’ He slipped the book into his control and put it back on the shelf.
This woman was no society miss. The ton would certainly not accept someone so different, so free of restraints. He spoke his thoughts aloud, puzzled. ‘Your sister cannot encourage your folly. She surely wants you to follow her example. I may not always agree with Warrington, but I believe he treats her well. Theirs is a good union .’
‘Warrington is kind to her. Her heart is filled with him and the children. They are of such a similar mind.’ Her eyes flicked up. ‘Similar to yours. I have considered this life in England for two years, and after being at Harling House I know I may be wrong for others, but I am right for me.’
‘You met me and decided marriage and society was not for you?’
‘I would not say that.’ He lips curved into a smile. ‘I have been away from my sister and the children. I have missed them, but it is them I miss. Not just any baby or child. I see your mother and I see the damage even good love can cause in a person.’
‘Your father. You are letting his actions rule yours. All your thoughts of marriage are coloured by the way he left you all.’
‘No.’ Her chin tilted and her lips thinned. She ducked her head, but not before he could read her face. Her next words didn’t match her expression. ‘I hardly knew him. I remember my mother crying more than I remember him. My uncle did what he could do to help when I was very young. But he died—killed for no reason. We had so little. I do remember that when my father came home, the food was better. Everything. But inside the house was not always better. Our life was a calm sea when he was gone even though my mother struggled so hard. But when he returned there was a storm inside our home. I only wanted the goods he brought. I did not care for him at all.’
