Pride in Regency Society. Sarah Mallory

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      ‘Miss Shawcross, the more I know of you the more I am convinced that you are the perfect wife for me!’

      ‘But I am not at all worldly. What I mean is…’ She blushed again, looking so adorable that he wanted to cross the space between them and take her in his arms. ‘What would happen when you grew tired of me?’

      When he did not respond she said quietly, ‘I am not quite as naïve as you might think, Captain. I know my parents’ marriage was unusual; they were so much in love they did everything together, as equals.’ She gave a sad little smile. ‘They even died together. I do not expect that, but…’

      Nick half-rose from his seat, then sank back down again. He knew that any attempt to comfort her was more likely to frighten her away. ‘But what, Miss Shawcross?’

      The colour flared in her cheeks, but she was determined on her course. Her words were almost inaudible. ‘I w-would not want to share you with a mistress.’

      Nick took a deep breath. By heaven, he admired her bravery. Now he must honour it with an honest reply. ‘Miss Shawcross, whatever else you may have heard about me, pray believe that I am a gentleman. If we were to marry, I give you my word you would always be treated with respect, and I would do my best to make you happy. I can promise you that I have no mistress hidden away.’ He laughed suddenly. ‘Now what is that look, do you not believe me?’

      She glared at him. ‘I do not think you understand, sir.’

      ‘Then perhaps you can explain.’

      He sat back, as she threw him another scorching look. He felt more sure of his ground when she was angry with him.

      ‘I have always expected Grandpapa to arrange my marriage for me, but I thought it would be a local gentleman. Someone…’

      ‘Someone safe and staid and boring,’ he put in helpfully.

      ‘Well…yes.’

      He spread his hands. ‘Even the most upright country gentlemen take mistresses, you know.’

      ‘But they are less likely to have women falling at their feet,’ she retorted. She brandished her letter. ‘My correspondent tells me the ladies in town find you fatally attractive.’

      ‘Does she indeed?’

      ‘How do you know it is a woman?’

      ‘I have an instinct for these things. Does your correspondent find me fatally attractive, too?’

      ‘Captain Wylder I do not think you are taking this seriously.’

      ‘But I am! And your grandfather has already spoken to me of this.’

      ‘He—he has?’

      ‘Yes.’ Her consternation made him smile. ‘It is a question that would occur to any loving guardian. I have already assured him that, if I take a wife, she will have nothing to fear on that score.’ He paused. ‘Sir Benjamin approves of me, you know. Will you not at least consider my suit?’

      She held his eyes for a moment, then folded her papers and put them into her reticule. ‘Yes, Captain Wylder, I will consider it,’ she said quietly. ‘But it is not a decision to be taken lightly.’

      ‘No, of course not.’

      ‘Thank you for being so frank with me, Captain.’

      As she rose he jumped up and reached for her hand, carrying her fingers to his lips.

      ‘I hope we understand one another now, Miss Shawcross.’

       ‘I am not sure.’ She regarded him with a tiny crease between her brows. ‘I still do not understand why you should want to marry me, but we will let that pass, for now.’ She withdrew her fingers and, with a slight, regal nod of her head, she turned and walked away from him.

      Eve returned to her room, her mind going over and over her interview with Captain Wylder. He had not denied any of the liaisons Maria Gryfford had detailed in her letter, but he had looked wary. Were there even more lovers that she did not know of? Eve realised she did not care how many lovers he might have had in the past; only the present and the future concerned her. A line from Lady Gryfford’s letter flitted through her mind; If the dashing Captain Wyldfire has made you an offer, then snap him up immediately, my dearest Eve. We are all mad for him! But why should he want to marry her? He did not look like the sort of man who would marry merely to please his family. But then, she had been brought up to believe she would marry to please her grandfather. Were they so very different? She put her arms around herself. It was a big decision, to leave the safety of the only home she had ever known and put herself under the protection of Nick Wylder. After all, what did she know of him? Did she trust him?

      ‘Yes,’ she said aloud. ‘Yes, I do. Perhaps I should not, but I do.’

      ‘Your pardon, Miss Eve, did you say something?’

      Martha came bustling into the room.

      ‘What? Oh, no, no. I was merely talking to myself. Is it time to dress for dinner already? I think I will wear my blue gown again tonight, Martha.’

      ‘Ah, you want to look your best for the captain, is that it?’

      ‘Do not be so impertinent!’

      Eve frowned at her handmaiden, but Martha had been part of her household since Eve had been a baby and was not so easily snubbed.

      ‘Well, what else is one to think, when you and he have been in the garden together this afternoon?’

      ‘Who told you that?’

      Martha shrugged. ‘Mr Granby mentioned it…’

      ‘How dare you gossip about me!’

      ‘Lord love you, Miss Eve, we wasn’t gossiping. Mr Granby just happened to mention it in passing. Heavens, miss, how you do take one up. And what does it matter anyway, since you are going to wed him—’

      ‘Martha! Who says so?’

      The maid stared at her. ‘Well, is it not so?’

      ‘No. Yes—that is…’ She dropped down on the bed, crying, ‘Oh, Martha I do not know what to do!’

      ‘Don’t you want to marry the captain?’

      Eve spread her hands. ‘I must marry someone.’

      ‘And the captain is very handsome, miss.’

      Eve felt herself blushing. ‘Yes he is. Very handsome.’

      And exciting, and witty: Eve had never felt so attracted to any man before. Not that she had much experience, one short visit to Tunbridge Wells being the nearest she had ever been to entering society, but she had read lots of books. She knew exactly what a hero should be like, and although the gentlemen she had met at Tunbridge had all fallen well short of her expectations, she was forced to admit that Nick Wylder was the embodiment of her secret dreams. The thought was a little frightening.

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