A Rational Arrangement, page 49
Her first thought was What? followed by That cannot mean what it sounds like it means. “Propose what, my lord?”
That made him smile for a moment, though it faded as he replied, “Marriage.”
“To me?” Wisteria felt unusually stupid. Surely even if he did propose to me he would not do so through Lord Comfrey. Would he? Does anyone still use intermediaries in Newlant?
“To you. Yes.”
“No, I was not. I am not sure I am aware of such a thing now. Is this a jest, my lord? I am afraid I do not follow the humor in it if so.”
“No jest.” He took a step closer to her chair, looming over her.
Wisteria stood, discomfited and flattered and taken aback all at once. “Truly? But his family dislikes me, except for Mrs. Warwick, and I am not suitable for marriage, and this is all so very strange. Why did he send you to ask? Is he unwell?”
Lord Comfrey clasped her hand between his. “He did not. Forgive me, Miss Vasilver, for the irregularity here. Of course I should not be telling you such things. Lord Nikola would be furious with me – rightly so – if he knew I was relaying his intentions to you. It is not my place to do so, and believe me I am well aware of that. I have gone back and forth over what to do this last hour and my resolution, such as it is, has not favored the most honorable course. But tell me, my dear, why would you say you are not suitable for marriage?”
“Because I am not? I am blunt and indelicate and I speak of things that ought not be spoken and I can’t even remember that they’re not even though I’ve been told and everyone else understands these things. And you, as much as anyone, ought to know how far I fall short of the ideal. I cannot imagine why he would ask, or why anyone would save a man blinded by greed. Why, Lord Nikola told me himself he was not interested in marriage at this time of his life.”
Lord Comfrey smiled, stroking the back of her hand. “He has reconsidered that stance. My dear Wisteria—” her attention was arrested by the sound of her given name in his baritone voice “—you sell yourself far short of reality. And it is due to that brilliant, courageous, passionate reality that I am engaging in this…rather dishonorable course. For you see—” he lifted her hand to his lips, brushing the skin in a caress that made her insides melt. “—I wish to marry you myself.”
Wisteria watched him, her mind wiped blank by pure shock. He laid a tan finger against her lips before she could formulate a coherent thought, much less a response. “Do not answer me now, my dear. It is wrong of me to have asked immediately after my friend confided his own intentions to me. I will not compound that error by forcing you to a decision before allowing you the chance to consider his offer as well.”
The tall, broad-shouldered man took a deep breath and continued. “I imagine you know already that of the two of us, I am by far the wealthier and more influential. My good friend is frugal but has little interest in business and less in politics. ‘Viscountess’ is not so grand a title as ‘Countess’ and Anverlee is larger than Comfrey, but Comfrey is prosperous, developed, and well-managed. In certain respects, I have made good use of the advantages I was born to. I will not undersell the match.” He moved his finger from her lips to stroke her cheek, then cupped her chin and angled it to his face as he leaned closer. “And I flatter myself that you are not indifferent to my charms.” He kissed her, too briefly; her face followed his when he drew away. “But let me be honest, as I so rarely am. As a man, I am deeply flawed: hypocritical, cynical, temperamental, unchaste – indeed, my dear, I care so little for chastity that I should not mind if you had lain with a hundred men, so long as I might be the hundred-first – sarcastic, flippant – wait, that might be one of my virtues. Wisteria – did I mention presumptuous on that list of vices? that too – Wisteria, I very much doubt marriage will improve me in any respect. Lord Nikola is generous, devoted, devout, honest, kind, and a better man than I will ever be. I have no doubt that he will make a better husband. And a much better father, should you desire children.” He gave a bark of laughter. “Saints, I’ve never considered being a father before. I’m not sure I could do it.”
Most of this conversation had been so stunning – wait, someone wants to marry me? Two men want to marry me? The two most attractive and most fascinating men I know want to marry me? – that Wisteria could not process it, never mind comment. That last begged the question, however: “You do not want children, my lord?”
Lord Comfrey shook his head. “My sister has a Blessed son; I designated him my heir seven years ago. I’ll sire no bastards, and I never thought I’d find a woman I wanted to marry.” He caressed her cheek with his thumb. “Until I met you.” He cleared his throat. “Did you want children, my dear?”
“Oh yes. Very much.” She leaned her head into his hand.
He gazed into her eyes. “I would reconsider my opposition,” he said, and for the first time Wisteria wondered if he felt as much like she had upended his world as he had hers. He gave her another gentle kiss. She put her hand on his shoulder for balance, and then somehow they were embracing, kissing hungrily, until Lord Comfrey released her and took a step away. “Ah, I had best leave before I add to my list of rash ill-considered dishonorable actions. I do not know when Lord Nikola will offer, but I urge you to take all the time you need in considering your choice. It took me thirty years to find a woman I wanted as wife: I promise you I’ll neither change my mind nor find another. I shall call again, my dear, but consider yourself under no obligation to answer me at any time. I beg you to wait at least for Lord Nikola to say his piece. He is a good man, a better man than I by far. And, ah, if your answer to him is yes, I would take it as a kindness if you did not speak of my proposal. Given the circumstances.”
He started to withdraw, and Wisteria caught his hand. “Lord Comfrey—” she could not bring herself to say Justin, though she longed to “—if you believe that he would be a better husband and that you are in the wrong for asking, why did you?”
His narrow lips smiled. “Did I forget to mention ‘selfish’ on my list of vices?”
She shook her head. “But then why tell me his intentions at all? Why list reasons to choose him?”
“Ah.” Lord Comfrey looked away. “Perhaps because I do not think it my place to decide. It is you who must live with one of us—” he smiled “—or neither, as you prefer. The choice belongs with you. Good day, my dear.”
Byron returned to the back parlor a few minutes after Lord Comfrey’s departure. “Well?”
Wisteria was sitting again by the fire, her feet up and her mind still struggling to encompass this strange new world. “Well what?”
“Did he ask you?”
There is no way – “Ask me what?”
“To marry you! Don’t tell me he didn’t?”
“Byron, what in Paradise makes you think Lord Comfrey would ask me to marry him?”
Her brother sighed and flopped into the velvet chair opposite hers. “He’s been calling lately. Everyone’s talked about you two since the ball and the rescue. And he’d that terrified, agitated look of a man about to be hung. Or propose. One of the two. Thought for sure…” He gave another theatrical sigh. “What’d he want, then?”
“I should rather not talk about it.” Wisteria wanted more than anything to talk about it, but after Lord Comfrey’s request, it didn’t seem right to do so. Unless she was sure she was accepting him.
Byron gave her a sharp look. “He insult you?”
“No, of course not. And you may stop playing twenty questions with that one.”
“Oh, very well.” Byron gave her a comical look of long suffering. “There’s a house for let at Juniper Road and Azalea, near the warehouse district. Convenient for business. Know the one, with the gables and the little brick wall around it?”
Wisteria had never felt less like indulging Byron’s unserious thoughts on setting up his own household. “Do people truly expect Lord Comfrey to address me?”
“Eh. Maybe not ‘expect’. Consider it possible, sure.”
“Why, because he saved me? Does that happen with officers of the law too or is it only lords?”
“Don’t know, never happened to anyone I know before. But it’s not just that. Everyone knows he danced attendance on you at the Ball, after Lord Nikola left. And this makes, what, six times he’s called? Seven? In the last two or three weeks?”
“Some of those were for business.”
“That’s his excuse, yes. Look, not saying he’s serious. Only, he’s Lord Comfrey. Doesn’t attach. Kensleigh’s sister follows these things, says Comfrey never calls on anyone twice in one week. Any woman, that is. Maybe any man, for all I know. So. Noteworthy.”
“Oh.” They were interrupted then by Byron’s valet: Byron needed to get ready for a dinner engagement with friends.
After Byron left, Wisteria started to go to her office to brood, then considered that her office was less of a haven during the season – her mother sometimes chased her out, insisting she be sociable rather than work through the holidays. That Wisteria prefered working to socializing made no impression upon her. So Wisteria chose the unused third-floor schoolroom as her hiding place instead. The room was drafty despite the shuttered windows, so she dragged the big comfy tutor’s chair next to the heating vent and turned on the gaslights.
Bundled beneath an old quilt against the chill, Wisteria sorted through her thoughts and feelings.
She had been, to some extent, looking for a husband for the last nine years. Some years this search had been more active than others; when she was in Southern Vandu it had been confined to correspondence. Arguably, the correspondence had gone better than her efforts by more typical society events. She had received one offer, when she was twenty-one, by the impoverished younger son of a successful goldsmith. She had not liked him and did not think him attached to anything beyond the idea of her dowry, and so had declined.
When she had been very young, she had imagined handsome men vying for her favor. It had not occurred to her at any point in the last several years that this would ever happen. Certainly not with two men she particularly admired. Not to mention desired. Part of her still wondered if this was some peculiar joke on Lord Comfrey’s part. The notion was unkind, given he had been so agitated even she could tell he was not himself.
Another part was overawed, amazed by the idea that any man, nevermind one as powerful and attractive as Lord Comfrey, would be so moved by her. And his offer had to be for her own person: Vasilver was not Comfrey’s equal in wealth, title, or connections. From a mercantile perspective, it was a brilliant match for her, the sort that other women gossiped about with envy. Not a humiliating one for him, but by no means an equal match.
From a personal perspective: she did not know him as well as she wished, but he had been excellent company at the ball, and very kind to her since. Even more than the heroism of his rescue, Wisteria was endeared by his willingness to overlook the many peculiarities in her behavior, such as his acceptance without rancor of both her wanton behavior and her mercurial switches to reserve. That offhand remark – ‘I should not care if you had had a hundred lovers’ – was hyperbole no doubt, but promiscuity was not a failing most men would overlook in a wife. That he had offered even when she had given him reason to doubt her chastity was telling. And perhaps important, given all she had done. Beyond personality, his physical appeal was undeniable. The thought of undressing him in his – their – own home, sanctioned by law, custom, and society alike, thrilled her. She had once thought herself unmoved by such irrational considerations, but at the moment the influence of his kiss, his caress, could not be denied. Had he not told her of Lord Nikola’s intentions, she would have accepted him at once and never mind how serious a decision it was to make on impulse. He is the kind of man who will risk his life for his friends, who will fight and kill for them, and not even wish for gratitude. In all that list of pros and cons, never once did he mention the debt I owe him. That says as much about Lord Comfrey as all the words he spoke.
Nor did he have to tell me of Lord Nikola’s intentions, and he would have been within his rights to request a prompt reply rather than urging me to consider the question in depth. No, whatever he might say of himself, Lord Comfrey was a good man.
But so was Lord Nikola. Does he truly intend to ask me? She had not seen him since the rescue, although he had sent a wonderful letter, gracious and sweet and humble, inviting her to call on Wednesday. Would he ask then? The whole idea seemed so improbable, nearly as unlikely as Lord Comfrey himself asking. But why would Lord Comfrey carry the tale if it were untrue? Do I want to wed Lord Nikola? The instinctive answer was Yes!
But I cannot wed them both. Whom would I prefer for a husband?
Wisteria tried to consider the question systematically, but memories and feelings about both men kept jumbling in her head. Lord Nikola, eagerly inviting her to speak about anything at all in that absurd extravagant glass carriage. Lord Comfrey pulling her against him on her office couch and kissing her, then asking if that distracted her. Even Lord Comfrey’s sarcastic remarks at the Association which had so irritated her when she realized her mistake in taking them for sincere – ‘Your lecture is too sophisticated for him, miss’ – had a charm in retrospect. She couldn’t think this through in her head alone: she wanted to organize her thoughts in writing. In a chart. After a few minutes, she rummaged about the schoolroom for a slate and chalk and set to creating one. Perhaps if I score each on the various qualities one expects in a husband, it’ll be easier to see which I should choose.
She wrote down a list of qualities, then erased them to reorganize them by category, and left some extra room in each so she could fill in other categories later. Then estimated numeric values for each one:
Heritage Lord Comfrey Lord Nikola
Bloodline 9 10
Blessing 5 10
Appearance 10 10
Health 10 8
Social
Social Position 9 9
Political Connections 9 5
Title 8 9
Financial
Wealth 10 4
Acumen 9 4
Personal
Integrity 7 10
Courage 10 10
Honesty 6 10
Consideration 8 10
Loyalty 7 10
Attachment to ? ?
She studied the last section. There were more personal qualities one ought to look for; she had only put down the ones where she could think of relevant data points from her own experience. It was hard to quantify some of them: Lord Comfrey had been given a chance to be brave in a situation where no one would fault him for taking a safer course. Indeed, he’d taken risk after risk to put himself farther into harm’s way. By contrast, Lord Nikola had had few choices on what to do: taken unaware and outnumbered at his capture, bound and gagged as a prisoner. Perhaps he’d given them some trouble which led to them securing him more thoroughly than herself. Or perhaps they’d assumed a woman unlikely to resist. But even under such circumstances, even hideously tortured, he’d had the will and fortitude to free one arm. And he had used that very limited freedom, not to help himself escape, but to distract Brogan from assaulting her. It was such a small act compared with Lord Comfrey’s near single-handed defeat of several men and successful rescue. But she wasn’t sure it was any less brave.
Lord Nikola’s integrity was unquestioned; indeed, it was his fame as a healer of minds that had led to the abduction, and only a madman like Brogan could doubt his adherence to the Code. Lord Comfrey’s she had more concerns about: his indifference to the cronyism involved in an interest-free bank loan, for example. And as he himself had noted, to propose to a woman after learning his closest friend wished to do so was something less than honorable and loyal. She didn’t doubt Lord Nikola’s loyalty: she remembered his concern for his stricken warcat, his refusal to brook any delay despite his own distress.
For honesty and consideration she again had no reservations about Lord Nikola. Perhaps I ought to invent some reservations. He cannot be so much the paragon as I have painted him here. Wisteria reviewed the string of 10s with a skeptical eye, but could find no faults in Lord Nikola on them. When his parents had been outraged at her, he had remained civil and courteous. Even when he confessed to a failing, such as considering himself irresponsible and his demeanor unlordly, she found his candor irresistible and his flaws overstated. I ought to take him at his word on ‘irresponsible’, however. Lord Nikola has not mismanaged Fireholt, but Lord Comfrey has done more for his holdings. Wisteria took Lord Nikola’s ‘integrity’ score down to a 9 from a 10. Both men had been considerate of her, but Lord Nikola treated everyone well, including greatcats and servants. Lord Comfrey, she thought, was less aware of other people except as they related to himself. And she prefered Lord Nikola’s greater restraint and his more explicit communication of intent when they’d embraced. Not that Lord Comfrey had ever done anything she didn’t want, or pressed her when she drew back, but there was something unsettling about the way their encounters had begun. Perhaps that wouldn’t matter if they were married anyway.
She pondered whether it was fair to mark Lord Nikola’s title higher than Lord Comfrey’s. Granted a count outranked a viscount, but Lord Nikola would not inherit Anverlee for decades yet, barring grave misfortune. And somewhere I ought to factor in that Lord Nikola’s parents detest me. Lord Comfrey’s have both passed away, I believe. ‘No mother-in-law to scold me’ ought to be worth something. She added in a line for Familial Relations and marked Lord Nikola at a 3 and Lord Comfrey at a 5, since she knew nothing of Lord Comfrey’s.
