wonât hear of it. You donât want to marry againâyou vowed you wouldnât afterâafterâthat is to say . . .â His words died away as he fiddled with a lump of sealing wax.
âAfter Lord Trask abandoned me to marry Sophie Stanton? Go ahead, Matthew. You can say it.â
His soft brown eyes filled with sympathy, but he remained silent. She sighed and lowered herself into the wingchair, ignoring the crackle of ancient leather.
Her skin still crawled whenever she thought of those terrible weeks in Bath almost two years ago. Trying to come between Simon and Sophieâto wreck their engagementâhad been a cruel and wrenching task. But sheâd had little choice. Simon was one of the richest men in England, and if he had married her, all her money problems would have vanished like smoke. But after that episode she had lost her appetite for husband-hunting and had vowed to rescue the Randolph finances on her own. Instead, she had seen their investmentsânot very healthy in the first placeâvanish under the weight of her own carelessness and a hired manâs greed.
Matthew stirred, interrupting her gloomy ruminations.
âYou donât have to marry just anyone,â he said. âYou could marry me.â
His abrupt offer startled a laugh out of her. âMy dear, please donât be ridiculous.â
âIâm serious,â he said stoutly. âIâm very fond of you. Always have been. And youâre a beautiful, intelligent woman. Never thought that bastard cousin of mine deserved you. I understand your worth, Bathsheba, and I would never betray you. Only say the word and Iâm yours.â He finished his unexpected proposal with a shy, earnest smile.
Bathshebaâs eyes stung. Lord, she hadnât felt so much like crying since her father died.
âMatthew, youâre a dear man and Iâm very fond of you, but we wouldnât suit. Besides, that would hardly solve our problem.â
âBut if we married we could consolidate households. Sell that bloody great barn in London and retrench here in the country.â
Anything but that. She would throw herself into the Serpentine before she moved back to Yorkshire.
âDarling, you know I would go mad if I had to live here all year âround. And I would make your life a misery. My mind is made up. Iâll return to London right away and begin looking for a husband in earnest.â
She smiled at him, seeking to ease his anxiety. âIâm not completely without resources. I donât think Iâll have too much difficulty finding someone who will suit. He simply needs to be very wealthy, and to bother me as little as possible.â
Matthew bristled. âOf course you wonât have any trouble. Never meant to suggest otherwise. Just snap your fingers and every man in London will be falling all over you.â
âYes,â she replied sarcastically. âBut this time I have to persuade one of them to actually marry me.â
He shushed her and rearranged the papers on his desk, but Bathsheba couldnât fail to notice his relief that she had rejected his proposal. No wonder she had turned so cynical. Men didnât want to marry her. They only wanted to bed her. Well, at least she could acquit Matthew of that charge. He didnât even want that.
âBathsheba, what are you going to do about Rachel?â
Her heart jolted with a hard, extra beat. Why did Matthew have to bring her sister up now? Didnât they have enough to worry about? âIâm not going to do anything about Rachel. Sheâs fine just where she is.â
He fiddled with his papers some more. âI was thinking we could bring her hereâto Compton Manor. I could look out for her, and Iâve more than enough servants to tend to her needs. That, at least, would relieve you of the expense of her upkeep.â
She stared at him, stunned by the suggestion, fighting back