Damn Walter and his interfering!
What the devil had he thought would happen when he summoned Ned’s personal carriage instead of a hansom? Did he think Ned would feel compelled to renew his addresses to Miss Appersett? That he would invite her to meet his parents? That he would propose?
No doubt Walter saw her arrival at their offices as a positive occurrence. Ned wasn’t convinced. When she’d broken things off with him, she’d been so sure of herself. So thoroughly decided against him.
What had prompted her to come to Fleet Street?
Granted, they didn’t know each other very well—unless one counted the many civilities they’d exchanged during their courtship—but it seemed that such a risk was entirely out of character for Miss Appersett. She’d always been so ladylike. So very proper.
“Do you have anything you wish to say to me?” he asked. “Now that we’re speaking candidly with one another?”
She turned her head to look out the window. There was precious little to see in all the fog, save the intermittent glow of the gas lamps. “What would you like to know?”
“Why the change of heart?”
“I’ve had a week to think it over. I realized I was too impulsive.”
“That morning in Hyde Park? It seemed to me that you were being honest.”
She turned her face from the window. “I was being honest. Just not very wise.”
“So…not really a change of heart, then.”
“More like a change of mind.”
Ned appreciated her honesty, but her words stung all the same. She had no dowry, and therefore no practical choice. Which begged the question: what sort of sapskull would use his eldest daughter’s marriage portion to have gaslight installed?
It was not that modernizations were uncommon. Far from it. In London, many townhouses featured gas wall sconces and gasoliers. But to have a country estate fitted for gas—especially when that estate was the size and antiquity of Appersett House—seemed absolute folly. Not only was there the expense of the installation, there was also the small matter of where the gas would originate. In London, it was provided by a central gas works. But in rural Derbyshire? Sir William would have had to commission a private gas plant.
Was it any wonder he needed his daughters to marry into money?
“What prompted this change of mind?” Ned asked. “Was it your parents?”
“No. Though they weren’t best pleased with me. My father bellowed until he was red in the face. And my mother, she—” Miss Appersett broke off. Her brow furrowed, her gloved hands clasped tight in her lap. “You must understand, Mr. Sharpe. Girls in my situation hardly ever marry for love. We haven’t that luxury. We marry for comfort and security.”
“And to benefit your family.”
She didn’t deny it. There was no reason to do so. They both knew why her father had permitted him to court her. “If we’re lucky, we come to respect our husbands. To like them, even.”
“But you don’t like me. As we’ve established.”
“I don’t know you. Which is why I came today, ill-advised as my visit was. I thought, if we could just talk. If we could just dispense with all of the stifling formality. I thought there was a chance that I’d been mistaken. About us being ill-suited, I mean. After all, I had no way of knowing—” She broke off. “Good heavens. How I’m rambling on.” She turned back to the carriage window. “I promised myself, if we ever met again, I wouldn’t talk so much.”
“Did you?” He could see her face reflected in the glass, pale and solemn. “I always enjoyed the sound of your voice.”
“You certainly heard enough of it.”
The carriage rolled to a halt with a jolt and a clatter of hooves. Ned glanced out the window. It was difficult to make anything out in the fog, but it appeared that John Coachman had taken them to the mews. A discreet and sensible fellow. Ned wouldn’t have credited it.
“Is this all right?” he asked.
She nodded. “There’s a gate at the end of the garden.”
The carriage rocked as the footman clambered down from the box. A second later, he was at the door. Ned heard him clear his throat.
“Well, I suppose this is goodbye,” Miss Appersett said. “Unless…”
Unless. There was a wealth of meaning in the word. It was chance and opportunity, risk and possible reward. It was also an olive branch of a sort. All he need do was reach out and take it. Ned swallowed his pride. “What would you like me to do, Miss Appersett?”