Page 9 of A Lady's Key to Passion

Marianne nodded, looking like she couldn’t think of anything she would like to do more in this world than be a chaperone.

Lord Carlisle looked pleased, settling down onto the sofa. Jane was rooted to the spot. This was the strangest turn of events. Lucy glared at her, her eyes full of venom, before she turned on her heel and flounced out of the room. Jane stared after her, suppressing a desire to burst into laughter. Watching Lucy in high dudgeon was always amusing.

But then, a cold shiver went down her spine. Was the gentleman serious? How on earth could this have happened? She hadn’t encouraged him in the slightest. She had barely spoken with him and only danced with him under sufferance. It was a mystery.

But then, men were strange creatures at the best of times. Now she must sit with him under sufferance, trying to put him off in whatever way she could so that he didn’t get any ideas that she wanted him to continue this attention towards her.

“Jane,” called Marianne, a wide, mischievous smile upon her face. “Do come and sit down, dearest.”

Jane gave a painful sigh before turning and doing as her sister bid. Marianne had already rung the bell for tea. With a serene smile, she picked up her embroidery and walked away, sitting in the corner where Papa and Lucy had been playing cards. Jane glared at her.

Her dear sister wasn’t even going to sit with them to help with this tedious conversation. Instead, she was giving them privacy. Or at least an illusion of it. What was Marianne thinking?

The tea arrived. Jane busied herself pouring, passing him a cup, trying hard to hide her shock at this completely unexpected turn of events. He sat back, staring around the room with interest.

“You have a lovely home, Lady Jane,” he said, taking a sip. “You were born and raised here?”

She gave him an icy smile. “Indeed, my lord. I have lived nowhere else.”

There was an awkward silence. He put down the cup into the saucer, causing a loud rattle. Jane turned around and glared at Marianne, who didn’t even have the decency to look shamefaced. Instead, her sister gave a short, delighted laugh.

“And did you enjoy the ball last evening?” he asked.

Jane shrugged. “It was the same tedium as always. The same people, the same dances, the same conversations. I find balls dull in the extreme, my lord. I would much rather walk by myself along the beach.”

He looked a bit shocked at her candour. “I see. Still, it is what one is expected to do. Young ladies and young gentlemen, for the purpose of courtship.” He cleared his throat. “Is anyone courting you at the moment, my lady?”

Jane almost laughed in his face. “No, my lord. There is not.”

He looked pleased. “And would you be interested in a courtship, or would you prefer to dispense with the whole business and just get to the object of it?” He exhaled. “I could see from the start that you are a straightforward lady and not given to playing games.”

Jane’s jaw dropped. Was he saying what she thought he was saying?

“Is that supposed to be aproposal?” Her voice came out as a squeak. “A serious proposal of marriage?”

“Well, yes,” he said, looking uncomfortable. “I apologise if I am being too bold, but I do like to speak plainly. I am looking for a wife, as you might expect in my position. I am nearing thirty, and it is time to settle down.

You seem very refined and agreeable, my lady. I have a title, wealth, and several homes. In short, I believe I could offer you averygood life indeed.” He sat back, looking pleased with himself as if he had ticked everything he needed to say on an invisible list.

Jane couldn’t help it. It was so ludicrous she burst into peals of laughter. He looked bewildered.

“I did not realise I had said something so amusing,” he said.

“Oh, my lord,” she said, trying to catch her breath. “You are too bold. And the answer is no. I am not seeking marriage at all, and your proposal hardly took my breath away. I do not wish to marry you, sir.”

He looked stunned. “You can think about it, you know. You do not need to give me an answer right at this moment.” He scratched his head. “Have I offended you with my plain speaking? Would the offer of a longer courtship before marriage in any way address it?”

Jane gaped at him. He looked so earnest and bewildered by her attitude. And now she saw a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead, as well, which hadn’t been there when he walked in. She almost felt sorry for him. But not quite enough to not tell him exactly what she thought of his arrogance.

“I do not want a courtship or anything else, my lord,” she said, fixing him with a stern look. “I meant what I said. I do not wish to marry. Not now, not ever. But even if I did, I would hardly be persuaded by such bluntness. I don’t know you, sir. We have barely spoken and have only been acquainted since yesterday. Did you truly think you could just march in here and propose, and I would accept you?”

He pulled at his cravat. “I was hoping. Many young ladies would be very pleased to be offered such a match. Your cousin, for example. I am sure if I had asked her, we would already be writing the betrothal notice.”

Jane’s eyes narrowed. “I am not like my cousin, my lord. Nor most other young ladies. I do not seek an alliance based only upon title and wealth. Such things do not impress me in the slightest.”

He stared at her, looking like he had no idea what to say next. Clearly, his morning’s plan had been well and truly thwarted. Once again, she wasn’t sure whether to feel sorry for him or despise him. Perhaps Lucy, who was smitten with him for all the wrong reasons, might have jumped at this abrupt, odd proposal, but she wasn’t Lucy. Thank the Lord.

She leant forward. “I am a woman who prides myself on having a mind and a will of my own, my lord. I seek no master. I do apologise if I have given you another impression. But, as you said, many young ladies may be very pleased to be proposed to in such a fashion. Perhaps you should seek them out. Or should I call my cousin back into the room, and you can talk with her, so that your morning has not been entirely wasted?”

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