Page 32 of A Stormy Season

This was not how he’d wanted to choose his next wife. In fact, he wasn’t even sure he wanted to get married again.

The gentlemanly thing to do, strictly speaking, was to marry Jane. She didn’t deserve to have her prospects for the future ruined because she had been at the wrong place at the wrong time—beside him when the kidnappers came, this whole wretched development due entirely to the sins of his first wife.

Jane Gilchrist was so headstrong, and he’d sworn he would never marry a headstrong girl like Anne. Never again. She had ruined her own life as well as his and cast shame on all connected with her—namely, himself and Jeffrey, her son.

He’d present the matter to Henry. He was a sensible man.

But he was also Jane’s older brother and her only protector, since her father was deceased.

Henry was also fair and honest. Besides, Luke would not be able to discuss it with his uncle, the only other person Luke trusted as much as Henry. Uncle Edmund had just gone away to Yorkshire for several weeks on business.

O God, I beg you not to let me make another terrible mistake.

~ ~ ~

Jane went to the shop and gratefully lost herself in figures, adding and subtracting them, sorting and recording them. Numbers were not subject to emotion or arbitrary rules. They were set and certain. They did not change or waver and could not confuse you. They simply were what they were, no more and no less. If one did not like the value or presence of a number, it did not matter. The number was there for a reason, it was solid and steady, and it could not be wished away. And Jane had always found that comforting.

But today, somehow, that usual comfort eluded her. The numbers had gotten into a snarl. The receipts did not match the list of numbers she had recorded, and no matter how many times she added them, they did not come out right.

She looked at the clock. Henry and Luke Watley would be meeting now. Were they discussing her future, deciding whom she would marry? The very idea made her hit her desk with her fisted hand. Well, she wouldn’t do anything she didn’t want to do. She was a business owner. If Society rejected her as a woman of questionable reputation, why should she care? But she would not be forced to marry someone who didn’t love her.

She finally found the mistake in her numbers. She had misplaced a rather large receipt and found it only when she got on her hands and knees under the desk where it had somehow fallen.

“Have I told you how glad I am that you were not killed yesterday?”

Catherine was standing in the doorway of the tiny back office.

“You did tell me, but I’m not averse to hearing it again.” Jane let out a pent-up breath and put her face in her hands.

“Well, you don’t seem very glad. What’s the matter, Jane?”

Catherine had closed up the shop for an hour the day before to call on Jane and assure herself that her business partner and friend was not injured, after hearing the gossip of Jane’s kidnapping. But she had been too busy when Jane came in that morning for her to explain about her brother and Penelope thinking Luke Watley would, and should, ask her to marry him to save her reputation. So Jane told her, in as few words as possible, since another customer might enter the shop at any moment.

“Oh my.” Catherine put a hand up to her cheek as she stared at the wall behind Jane.

“Yes, exactly. Oh my.” Jane had just put herself into a worse mood by talking about it. She chewed her lip, wishing she could yell and scream.

“There certainly are few men more handsome and sought-after than Luke Watley. You could do worse.”

“I am aware of that, but I rather wanted a man to marry me for love, and for me to love him as well.”

“I see.” Catherine was still staring vacantly. After a few more moments, she said, “But you will fall in love with him, don’t you think? He seems a good sort of man, and you will be infinitely better than his first wife. He will surely fall in love with you too, after you are married.”

“But what if he doesn’t? I am not the sort of woman who . . .” How could she explain this? “I will not be satisfied with a marriage that is respectful but distant, without love. I need intensity, Catherine. Am I making sense?”

“Intensity. Yes, ‘intense’ is a good word for you.” She smiled, probably trying to lighten the mood.

“I cannot gamble with my future. I have to know if the man I marry loves me and if I can love and respect him.”

“But isn’t marriage always something of a gamble? After all, one never knows the person they marry until they are, in fact, married.” Catherine suddenly looked sad.

“I’m sorry. It is insensitive of me to speak about marriage when yours ended so recently. Forgive me.”

Catherine straightened her shoulders and smiled wistfully. Her voice was softer as she went on. “My husband was quite different after we married than he was before. I believe he deliberately fooled me into thinking he was a better man than he was.”

“Because of his gaming debts?”

“Yes, and . . . there were other questionable things. He lied to me more than once. Never trust a man who lies. That is common sense, is it not?” Catherine smiled ruefully.