Page 18 of The Butler and the Bluestocking
Bess might not wish to see him now, but he would find a way to explain his behavior just as soon as he could figure out why he’d done it. What impulse had led to his charade he was not certain. He did know that he would miss Bess, their conversations about Egypt, and their explorations of York. He’d never met another woman like her, companionable, intelligent, inciteful, hard-working, generous and kind. It wasn’t right that she and her family had been placed in such straightened circumstances. He wished he knew what he might do to change things.
“Did you hear me, Mal?”
“Huh? Hear you, James? No, I apologize for wool-gathering. What were you saying?”
“I was saying that you are not yet out of the woods. Should word get out that it was you staying with the Bigglesworth ladies, you may well have to marry one of them.”
“Preposterous.” But was it? He’d been seen frequently in his butler’s role and his looks, if one bothered to peer closely at a servant, made him easily identifiable. Wed one of the Bigglesworth sisters? No, not just any sister. Marry Bess. He smiled broadly.
“What’s got you grinning like a loon? You can’t be happy at the prospect of marriage with that family of females?”
“I might well be happy wedded to Bess.”
“Lady Elizabeth Bigglesworth?” James blurted. “She’s a blasted bluestocking. Thirty if she’s a day. Tongues still wag about her come-out and how she turned down three excellent proposals. Made the distant relative who sponsored her so angry the woman advised Seahaven not to bring her to London ever again.”
“Seahaven was a fool,” Mal muttered. “From what I’ve heard of his late lordship, she is better off nowhere near the man. He married five women hoping to get an heir and ran through the fortune of each bride so quickly there was nothing left for the daughters he sired. Apparently, because they were female, he never gave them another thought.” Mal glared at the fire.
“And this is the type of person whose daughter you wish to wed?”
“Bess is nothing like him. In fact, none of the Bigglesworth ladies show the least propensity toward selfish, thoughtless behavior. They are all quite industrious and considerate,” Mal explained.
“Good for them, but I cannot imagine Lady Elizabeth would look kindly on your suit.”
“True, she refused to see me, so she must be quite irritated with me.”
“You put it too mildly.”
“I’ll need to change that. And I’ll need to do it quickly, before I speak at the York Antiquarian Society next week. The entire town will be abuzz with speculation once I’m recognized.”
“I know of only three things likely to turn a woman’s head,” James said.
Mal raised a brow in question.
“A title. Something with standing and social power.”
“Well, I don’t have, in fact hope never to have, any such thing. Being an honorable is bad enough.”
“True,” murmured James. “While, I wouldn’t wish such a title on my worst enemy, it does have some advantages.”
“That says quite a bit, given that you’ve one of the oldest and most respected titles in Britain. What else?”
“Money, wealth, riches.”
“I’m comfortably well off. Bess would never want for anything.”
“Since she’s spent most of the past ten years on the edge of poverty, comfortably well off might not be enough.”
“Probably. And the third?”
“The gift of her heart’s desire. Whatever it might be that she wants above all else.”
Mal lunged forward and grabbed his brother by the shoulders. “James, I could kiss you.”
The earl broke his brother’s hold and stepped back. Horror etched his face. “Please do not.”
“Right. Most likely neither of us would enjoy it.” He turned a circle searching the room. “Where could I have put my hat?”
“Have you taken leave of your senses? First you wish to kiss me. Now you need your hat?”
