Page 55 of The Time for Love
As their footsteps faded, she looked at Martin. “I’m going to take a turn about the gardens. I like to see how things are growing whenever I come home.” Innocently, she added, “Do you fancy a stroll?”
Martin considered the gleam in Sophy’s eyes and wondered what she was planning. The fastest way to learn the answer was to fall in with her suggestion. “Why not?” He waved her on. “Lead on, and I’ll follow.”
* * *
Sophy led Martin out of the side door. They stepped onto the path to find Oliver and Charlie just ahead of them.
The pair looked over their shoulders, and Charlie called, “We’re off to ride over the moors. Want to join us?”
She put a restraining hand on Martin’s arm. “No, thank you. We’re going to walk the gardens.”
Oliver took note of her hand. He shot Martin a knowing look, then he and Charlie waved in acknowledgment and continued toward the stable.
Grateful the pair would be safely out of the way and unable to interrupt, she lowered her hand, turned, and made for the formal parterre. “My great-grandmother laid out the gardens.”
Strolling beside her, Martin looked around. “They look well tended.”
“That’s down to Old Joe and his brother, Reggie. They love gardening and take great pride in keeping the place up to the mark.”
Martin nodded at the walled rose garden to one side of the parterre. “Those roses must be immense to be visible over those walls.”
“Reggie swears the material they muck out from the stable does wonders for his blooms.”
“The weather up here must help. You’re out from under the smoke of the town.” He glanced around, looking back toward the house. “What with the views as well as the gardens, this place is remarkably picturesque.”
She grinned. “And you haven’t seen the lake yet.”
“Is there a boathouse?”
She nodded. “And rowboats.”
His appreciation of the manor afforded her an opening to segue into the discussion she wished to have; she glanced at him and caught his eye. “Given what you’ve seen of my responsibilities, not just at the steelworks but here as well, you must see that I can’t simply”—she faced forward and kept walking—“succumb to the lure of the heat between us, throw my cap over the windmill, and marry you. I’m the anchor for too many people’s lives and livelihoods to make any rash decision.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to.” His words were a deep murmur just behind her ear.
She ruthlessly suppressed a delicious shiver and cast a swift glance at him, only to meet a raised eyebrow and a too-knowing look.
She narrowed her eyes. “Yes, I’ve thought further—indeed, long and hard—about your…proposition.” She looked ahead and continued strolling. “And for me, one major issue is the impact that marrying—you or anyone else—will have on so many people. The staff here”—she waved toward the house—“the staff in town, and of course, the workers at the steelworks.”
“Albeit on a smaller scale, you’re a bit like our queen. Yet nevertheless, she married Albert.”
She blinked, then countered, “That’s not a bad analogy. So”—she shot an assessing look his way—“if we married, would you behave as Albert did?”
He’d clasped his hands behind his back. As they strolled on, he studied the ground before his boots.
She waited as the silence stretched, then he nodded and raised his head.
“Yes.” He met her eyes. “I would support you in your duties and endeavors and, beyond that, pursue my own ideas and businesses that fall outside our joint enterprise.”
Inside, hope skipped, then rose; although prompted by the unexpected comparison, that was very much what she needed to hear. She inclined her head. “I see.”
They walked on for several steps, then he said, “Your position and the dependency of others on you is self-evident and undeniable. To me, that is simply a part of you. An integral part of you, one that contributes in a fairly major way to making you the lady I want as my wife.” He glanced at her. “What more do you need to know?”
She considered the question and eventually replied, “What I want to know is, in practical terms, how a marriage between us would work.” She glanced around. “For instance, take this place.” She waved widely, encompassing the gardens and the house. “Would this be our principal residence, or do you have somewhere else in mind?” She met his eyes. “Do you have some other house you would expect to live in?”
His features eased, and he smiled. “No. I have a house in Mayfair, but I use that purely as my London base. I’m not all that fond of the capital and don’t foresee us living there on any permanent basis. My house there is more a business office than anything else.”
“And in the country?”
