Page 45 of A Lady of Conscience

James hadn’t seen it in him initially. But he could see it now quite clearly, even as the captain finished his letter. The steely glint in his eyes, the sternness of his brow, and the steadiness of his hand as he held his quill pen. The same steadiness with which he was reputed to hold a pistol.

Yet Hannah had claimed her father was a romantic too. That James couldn’t see. Whatever softness Captain Heywood’s granite-hard demeanor was shielding was reserved for his family alone.

At length, the captain set down his quill. He tucked his unfinished letter under the blotter. “I trust everything has been resolved with the stolen donkey?”

“It has, sir,” James replied. “After a fashion. It seems the donkey now belongs to me.” He gave the captain a brief summary of what had happened at Fallkirk’s Farm.

The story provoked a rare flash of humor in Captain Heywood’s otherwise flinty expression. “I can’t say I’m surprised,” he said. “There have been many occasions over the years when championing an animal on behalf of my wife or my daughter has had the same result.”

James’s mouth hitched briefly at one corner. “Do you mean to say that you’ve found yourself the unwitting owner of an animal or two?”

“Or ten,” Captain Heywood said. “A man soon grows accustomed.”

James could easily imagine himself in the same predicament. The prospect wasn’t an unpleasant one. Not if Hannah was part of the picture. “I count it a small price to pay for the privilege of knowing your daughter,” he said.

“It heartens me to hear you say so,” the captain replied solemnly, “considering the fact that she rejected you. And in no uncertain terms, I believe.”

James’s expression sobered. “Yes, she did,” he acknowledged. “I suspect you knew she would.”

Captain Heywood didn’t deny it. “My daughter was raised to know her worth. I knew she was not likely to settle for less than a love match.”

James flinched. “I’m well aware she isn’t in love with me.”

“Yet, here you are.” Captain Heywood sat back in his chair. He surveyed James’s face with a thoughtful frown. “Why are you here?”

James saw no point in wasting either of their time with long-winded explanations. Not when his reasons for returning to Bath could be distilled into five simple words. “I gave up too soon.”

“Some would say you gave up at exactly the right moment. A man who has had his proposals refused has good reason to quit the field.”

James recalled those bleak, regret-filled weeks in London. He’d spent every day of them raking himself over the coals, first for having proposed to Hannah at all, and then for having done so without having first made an effort to win her heart.

“Which I did,” he said. “Until I came to my senses.”

Captain Heywood regarded him in silence for a long moment. “I presume you’re aware of the effect of your returning?”

“In relation to Miss Heywood?”

“In relation to the whole of Bath society. Your presence here looms large. If you mean to make yourself a fixture at every entertainment to which my daughter is invited, you will soon drive away all competition for her hand.”

Good, James thought uncharitably. But he didn’t show it. And he certainly didn’t say it.

“I’m not concerned about competition,” he replied instead. “It’s Miss Heywood I’m interested in, nothing else. I hope that, with time and effort, I might prove to her that she could one day find happiness with me.”

“An admirable answer,” Captain Heywood said.

“It’s the truth, sir. I was in error before, approaching her too hastily. It’s not a mistake I intend to repeat. I mean to do things properly this time.”

“Also, admirable.”

James felt a flicker of unease. Hannah’s father was an incredibly difficult man to read. It was impossible to predict whether he would endorse James renewing his suit or put an end to it here and now. James very much feared it would be the latter.

“Do you disapprove?” he asked abruptly.

“I neither approve nor disapprove,” Captain Heywood said. “My only purpose in summoning you here was to issue a warning.”

James tensed.

“Your family and mine are soon to be connected by marriage,” Captain Heywood said. “That allows for a certain informality between us. But know this. Regardless of any respect I might hold for your parents, if you cause my daughter even a moment of pain, you shall answer to me.”