Grace’s tender show of concern for his happiness had strained his composure to the breaking point. It had made him do and say the very things he’d sworn he would not. But now that he had, the only possible way to undo the damage was to press forward and hope for the best.
He snatched a deep breath and summoned his voice, trying to keep it low and calm. If Grace felt threatened, he knew he might lose her and so might his daughters. “Forgive me for startling you. I know I promised not to subject you to attentions of this sort and I swear I will not speak of my feelings again if they distress you. But I cannot permit you to assume I care for Mrs. Cadmore when I do not and never could. I repent ever thinking I could wed a woman I do not love. You were right about that and I only wish I had heeded your excellent advice sooner.”
“It was not good advice,” she replied with a stricken look. “It was selfish advice masked as concern for your daughters. I never should have meddled in your life as I did.”
Why? Because if she hadn’t he might be safely married to another woman and not pestering her with his unwelcome attentions? Rupert shuddered to think of the terrible longing and guilt he might have suffered if he’d finally awoken to his feelings for Grace after he had wed Barbara Cadmore.
“Please hear me out, I beg you.” Fighting his deepest inclinations, Rupert took a step backward so she would not feel cornered. “I have tried to root out my feelings so as not to distress you with them, but they have proved even more stubborn than my will. Is there any hope I can persuade you to trust and care for me in return?”
Her gentle blue eyes widened. In them, Rupert glimpsed far too many emotions he did not want to see... fear, sadness, regret.
“I do trust you,” she admitted in a furtive whisper as if it were something shameful. “More than I have any other man. And I have come to care for you far more than I ought to.”
“Why more than you ought to?” Rupert asked, not certain whether he should be encouraged.
“Because you are my employer, of course.” Her voice took on a sharp edge as if she were vexed with him... or herself. “Besides, you only think you fancy me on account of my looks. I have encountered that enough over the years to know it is not love.”
There was a tiny grain of truth in what she said. How could he convince this vision of loveliness he cared for her when he had given no sign of caring for plain Miss Ellerby?
“Our positions should not affect how we feel about one another,” he argued. “If I ever thought otherwise, I was a fool. As for the other, even before I became aware of your outer beauty, I had grown to admire the beauty of your heart and character. I became closer to you than to any other woman since my wife, though I could not acknowledge it. Not even to myself.”
Would she believe any of that? Or would she assume he was only the latest in a disreputable line of men who would say or do anything in order to possess her?
“When I met you at the masquerade,” he continued, “I cannot deny the immediate attraction I felt. But I truly believe that owed less to your beauty than to the ease I felt in your company. I am certain my heart recognized you that night even though my stubborn mind refused to.”
“It did?” Her voice trembled. “But you told me you could never care for another woman as you did your wife. Even if you could, you swore you did not want to risk your heart again.”
“I said a great many foolish things,” Rupert admitted with a rueful shrug. “I will gladly recant them all if only you will give me hope. Before I met you, I thought grief was the penalty I must pay for having loved. The cost was so dear I feared it would bankrupt my heart.”
His voice grew husky with emotion. “But you have made me see that love is not like gold, to be hoarded and doled out a miserly piece at a time. Love is a bottomless well that will never go dry as long as we keep drawing from it. The more we give away, the faster it refills, so we will never run out.”
She looked as though she desperately wanted to believe him, yet something held her back.
“As for my being your employer,” he continued, “I would never abuse that power to impose upon you. I want to make you an offer of marriage. If you truly care for me as I do for you, please agree to be my wife.”
“Wife?” One trembling hand rose to her throat as if she could not catch her breath. “I... I...”
Her frightened gaze swept around to his sleeping daughters. Was she afraid that only by accepting his proposal would she be able to remain with the children she loved?
Marriage to Rupert Kendrick? Even the possibility of it made Grace fairly swoon for joy. To think that all this time his restless dejection had grown out of his repressed feelings for her. It seemed too good to be true. And perhaps it was—too good for her compared with what she deserved.
She glanced around at her sleeping pupils. If she had feared the opportunity to stay on at Nethercross was a blessing she did not deserve, the prospect of wedding their father was a hundredfold more so.
And yet, deserved or not, she ached to accept his proposal. She felt pulled so hard in opposite directions she could not frame a coherent reply. “But... the girls.”
Rupert clearly did not understand what she was trying to say—and who could blame him? “I am certain you would make a wonderful mother to my daughters. But if you feel you must refuse me, I want the next best thing for them—to keep you as their governess. I swear to you, I would never speak of my feelings again. We could continue on as we have been. But please do not refuse me for the wrong reasons. Reject my offer only if you are perfectly certain you do not and cannot love me as I have come to love you.”
Grace’s legs threatened to give way beneath her. She stumbled to the nursery settee and sank down on it. Sophie’s storybook lay within arm’s reach, full of impossible tales of talking cats, fairy godmothers and scullery maids who captured the hearts of princes. Those stories also told of something Grace had encouraged the children to believe in—cruel, uncaring stepmothers.
“There is more to marriage than love,” she sighed. “You said so yourself, and you were right about that at least.”
Her collapse upon the settee brought Rupert flying to her side. Grace was reminded of their very first interview at the inn in Reading and the unwarranted kindness he’d shown to a fearful, dowdy governess. Looking back she wondered if she had begun to fall in love with him that very day.
“Have we exchanged outlooks, you and I?” His gaze searched her face in a fond caress as he eased himself down beside her. “Tell me then, if there is more to marriage than love, what else can possibly compare in importance?”