Introducing Kate and James Part 2

James Hargrave never expected to inherit an earldom, but he has. He's also inherited the home of his dreams: Elvy Park. But while the earldom is his for life, Elvy Park is only his if he marries before he turns 30. And so James, who always wanted a love match, now faces a marriage of convenience—a prospect that does not fill him with joy.

Here are some snippets from before, during, and after James's proposal to Kate Honeycourt, the heroine of The Earl's Dilemma...

James was resigned to his fate. He’d realized a month ago that there was no hope of making a love match before his thirtieth birthday. It had been a bitter moment. There was nothing he wanted less than a marriage of convenience, but, equally, he didn’t want to lose Elvy Park. His world had seemed very bleak—until he’d thought of Kate. She wasn’t a woman he could imagine loving, but she was one whom he liked. She would make an excellent wife and the emotion that he felt now, on the morning of his proposal, should be relief. It wasn’t.

Kate, he thought, as he fastened his shirt. One of the buttons came off in his hand. He stared at it and swore, a crude oath, from the stables. It made him feel marginally better.

“Sorry, Griffin,” he said. “I’ve done it again.”

The valet glanced up from where he was laying out James’s waistcoat. “I’m getting used to it, my lord.”

James frowned at the button. It wasn’t the first one he’d pulled off this week. Damn, who’d have thought he’d be so angry? It wasn’t Kate’s fault. It was his father’s. He swore again.

Griffin paused. “Another one, my lord?” he asked, in a startled tone.

“No, no.”

James manages not to pull of any more buttons. He goes downstairs and finds Kate writing letters in the morning room...

Now that the moment had come, James found himself reluctant to make his offer. He walked across the room and halted beside the fireplace, his shoulders tense. He unclenched his jaw and made himself smile at Kate. She would make him a fine wife. She was no termagant, no silly chit who’d giggle at him and be frightened by his frowns.

James realized that his smile had faded. His neckcloth felt too tight. He controlled the urge to loosen it and reminded himself that he’d faced worse moments than this. Briefly, the smell of cannon smoke and blood came to him. He pushed the memory aside. “Kate, will you marry me?”

As a proposal it was blunt and abrupt, and he was instantly ashamed of his lack of eloquence. He could have done better.

Kate’s expression became completely blank. “I beg your pardon?”

James abandoned the fireplace. His gait was stiff as he crossed the room, his legs moving awkwardly. He sat opposite her on a silk-covered chair, tense. “Will you marry me, Kate? Please?”

He wanted her to say Yes, but instead she asked: “Why?”

James explains the tangled legal situation, and then repeats his offer:

“So, please, will you marry me?”

Kate clasped her fingers in her lap and shook her head. “No,” she said. “I’m sorry, James.”

His first emotion was astonishment. His second was relief. His third was panic. “What?” he said. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t wish to,” she said, looking past his shoulder at the fireplace.

He blinked. “Are . . . are your affections otherwise engaged, Kate?” It was the only reason he could think of for her extraordinary answer.

Her eyes came back to his face. “Otherwise engaged?” She shook her head. “No.”

His astonishment and relief were replaced by pique. Kate was refusing for no other reason than she preferred spinsterhood to marriage with him?

She smiled at him. “But I’ll help you find a wife.”

“What?” James said, in no mood to be humored.

“I’ll help you find a wife. Tell me what you’re looking for.” She picked up the quill and drew a fresh sheet of paper towards her. Her head tilted at an enquiring angle.

“Kate.” There was a bite of frustration in his voice. “I have less than two months left.”

“I know,” she said calmly.

James stared at her. He clenched his jaw. This morning was not progressing as he’d planned.

Kate shrugged at his silence, and dipped her quill in the inkwell. “What sort of wife would you like?”

And thus begins The Earl's Dilemma. Poor James, he's not having a good day. This is rather what I imagine him looking like at this point -- stern and arrogant and trying not to frown.




[Image courtesy of the Rijksmuseum collection of public domain images.]