Page 21 of The Marquess of Temptation
Hestia flushed at this, who had looked after them? She glanced sideways at the Marquess, whose face was impassive, and knew instinctively that it had been him. Oh, she was already in his debt and she had no way of paying him back.
"Could you live there happily, Hestia?" Mrs Actrol questioned gently. "It has been your home for all your life, after all."
Hestia thought of the tumbledown cottage, where both her father and mother's lives had ended so sadly. She thought of the village, where she had few friends, and would have even fewer now because of the scandal, and shook her head.
"I think I would be best to stay in a large town or city," she decided firmly, "Your sister was right, Mrs Actrol, when she said that there was no future for me there."
She did not want to say it aloud, especially in front of the Marquess, but Hestia knew that one day she wanted to marry and have children, and nobody would offer for her with such a chequered family history.
"I don't know why we're even discussing this," the Marquess drawled in annoyance. His dark gaze caught Hestia's, leaving her slightly breathless at its intensity. "Miss Stockbow is my ward, as her legal guardian any decisions to be made on her future will be made by me."
"While dictating to the girl sounds nice in theory, my Lord," Mrs Actrol responded in a mildly amused tone. "It will not work in practice. Did you not see her bolt from the room today? She very nearly got away from you. Given an undesirable situation and time to formulate a plan, Hestia will disappear altogether."
The Marquess made a sound that was halfway between a grunt and a cough, clearly annoyed by the older woman's rationale. For a moment Hestia felt a thrill of victory, until the authoress looked at her sternly over her spectacles.
"That's not to say that I don't think what the Marquess is offering you is your best option, Hestia," she said grimly. "Your situation is most dire. The protection of his name would grant you leave to live a full life, which you otherwise may never be able to do. Stability, comfort, a title; these are not things to turn your nose up at, my dear."
"What about love?" Jane spoke quietly, turning her blushing face to Lord Payne as she spoke. Hestia flinched at the mention of that word; love had led her parents to an early grave, she wanted nothing to do with it.
"Love is a luxury," Mrs Actrol shrugged, "Respect and mutual understanding quite often act as the best foundations for a marriage."
"It's lucky I don't lack for confidence," the Marquess snorted, as the group descended into a thoughtful silence. "Any other man would find having the drawbacks and benefits of his marriage proposal discussed so openly rather demoralising."
"Luckily you're not any other man," Mrs Actrol answered tartly, her eyes sparkling with amusement. Hestia knew the woman well enough to know that she was rather enjoying taking the stuffy Marquess down a peg or two. "And you can understand why a girl like Hestia might be doubtful about placing her future in the hands of a man so senior."
"I am but four and thirty," the Marquess blustered with indignation, small patches of red staining his cheeks. "I hardly have one foot in the grave. Now --if you are all done, I would like to have a word alone with Miss Stockbow."
When no one made a move to leave, Falconbridge cast an icy glare around the room.
"Either you all leave, or I carry Miss Stockbow off to London this second."
"If you need me, I'll be just outside," Jane whispered as she passed Hestia. The trio traipsed out of the parlour, leaving Hestia alone with the Marquess.
Once the door had closed behind their companions, Falconbridge stood and began to pace the small room. He was so tall, she marvelled as she watched him pace to and fro upon the chintz rug; well over six foot by her estimation. Falconbridge stopped pacing abruptly, turned and ran an agitated hand through his hair.
"Honour dictates that I propose to you," he stated baldly. "It was my intention to marry you before I knew of your true identity. Learning that your safety has been entrusted to me only doubles that determination."
"I would not want you to think of me as a burden," Hestia retorted, "Or an obligation to be fulfilled."
"You are neither, I promise you that." All the acrimony had left him and he watched her with kind, sincere eyes. It would be so easy to fall in love with a man like the Marquess, Hestia thought sadly, a noble man who wanted to always do the honourable thing.
"I shall not press you, for anything that you do not wish to give, until you are ready," he added lightly. It took Hestia a moment to fully understand the weight of his words, and once she did, she felt her cheeks flame. She had not even thought of that aspect of marriage, and here he was mentioning it as casually as though he were remarking upon the weather.
"You are a clever girl, Miss Stockbow, surely you must understand that marriage is the best course of action?"
"My father was murdered," was what she finally decided upon as her response. "If we wed, my Lord, will you help me find out who did it?"
"I promise."
If the Marquess thought her request strange, his face did not betray him; instead he looked at her with thinly veiled apprehension, as though he still thought she would bolt.
"Shall I take it that you consent?" he finally asked.
"I do," Hestia whispered, already wondering if she had made a grave and terrible mistake.
