Page 9 of Never Tempt a Widow

Chapter Five

Rowland felt for a chair and collapsed into it. He couldn’t take his eyes off the woman who’d just said the most ludicrous thing he’d heard in months.

Him, marry a complete stranger? Marry anybody?

But she wasn’t just anybody, was she? Her looks, her bearing, her speech—all attested to her high birth. And he now owned a horse that had previously belonged to her. Saxon was a thoroughbred, a swift, intelligent stallion, and the best in his stables. Saxon had been purchased by a nobleman, who’d had no worries about his price.

Why was he thinking about horses? That was beside the point—he should be throwing this outrageous female out into the snow. But he couldn’t, could he? He didn’t want Mrs Radford back, and where would he find another wetnurse at this time of night, with the snow still falling? And if this weather continued through till morning, he’d probably have to dig his way through to the road—unless he could instantly invent some kind of machine for clearing snow faster than a man could dig it.

“You have no answer for me.”

He’d allowed himself to get distracted by engineering conundrums, as was his wont in times of crisis. But there was no invention he could think of that could extract him from his current catastrophe.

“Words fail me. Assuming I heard you correctly?”

“You heard me perfectly well. I asked for a marriage of convenience.”

She’d raised her chin—and her voice. Soon, the servants would be listening at keyholes to this fascinating conversation. He picked up his chair and carried it to the fire, then settled himself opposite her, resting his elbows on his knees.

“You’re serious?” He kept his voice lowered in the hope that she would, too.

Her face was set, but he sensed desperation behind the facade.

“I most certainly am. There would be benefits for us both.”

He doubted the benefits for him would be as great as those for her but resisted the urge to say so. “I’ll do you the favour of hearing you out, though I don’t expect to hear any reason that makes sense to me.”

She pushed her hair back, tucking it behind her ears. The firelight made planes and hollows of her face, emphasising her high cheekbones and straight nose. It created teasing little shadows at the corners of her rosebud mouth. A beauty, as Felix had said. But an infuriating one.

She folded her hands in her lap. “You need a wetnurse, someone who’ll stay with you and care for Edgar. But when he’s weaned, you’ll no longer have need of me, and I’ll have to go back and start my business all over again. It could take months to catch up with my rivals.”

“Your business?” What possible venture could this woman have?

“My vegetable gardening—I told you before. I grow marrows, melons, cucumbers, peas, beans, carrots, and all manner of worts. The soil is good and black hereabouts, and I have hotbeds, too. No horse dung ever goes to waste on the lane where I live.”

“Ah.” Nothing serious, then. His mind conjured up an image of her shovelling horse manure into an old bucket, and his chest throbbed with laughter. But he hadn’t laughed in so long that it felt as if he’d lost the mechanism for doing so.

His mouth twisted. “I’m sure you’ll be able to build up your ‘business’ when you return to it.”

“You don’t understand—I lost everything once. I don’t mean to do so again.”

What had she lost? He was dying to discover her secret.

He steepled his fingers. “So, my entire fortune is to be put at your disposal—in exchange for a tiny gardening concern?”

Her eyes went wide. In the firelight, he couldn’t tell their colour. But it was evident that her cheeks had turned crimson.

“It isn’t your money that I want. And I beg you not to belittle my vegetables, sir. You do exactly the same thing—only on a far grander scale, and with all kinds of innovations.”

He sat more upright. “You know about my farming and my land reclamation projects?” Next to his family, they were the closest things to his heart.

“Of course—I’ve heard all about your windmills and drainage engines. But that’s beside the point. I don’t want you to spend anything more on me than makes me appear fit to be your wife. I can sew, and mend, and make household economies.” Her mouth drooped. “I’ve become very good at the latter.”

“So, what do you want?” She was certainly lying about being after his fortune, but he’d put that aside for a moment.

“Security.”

That was not the reply he’d expected. Then he remembered her sudden fright on their journey to the Hall and how she’d behaved when he’d visited her home. Had she run away from someone, and now feared reprisals? Surely, her family could not be so terrifying as all that?