She could hear his startled exhale.
Still too much. And yet she didn’t know how else to approach this. She had already botched whatever chance at a gentle introduction they might have had.
Keeping her back to him as she stoppered the decanter, she continued: “I have evaluated our options thoroughly, Dr. Lawrence. Leaving aside dances, which I suspect you have no time for, and childhood acquaintances, whom I haven’t seen in many years, there are few opportunities for courtship for us.
“So I start from a premise of shared goals.”
She listened for his fleeing footsteps.
They didn’t come.
“Shared goals,” he said instead. “And what shared goals do we have? We have never met.”
There was no derision in his tone, no mockery. He sounded wary, but curious. She seized on it and turned back to him. She came around the desk, holding out his glass from a respectable distance. He did not retreat; instead, he took it from her, careful to avoid brushing fingers.
“We are both unmarried, and at an age where that is beginning to raise questions,” she said. “A man of your standing and appearance could choose whichever woman he wanted. You haven’t. For whatever reason, you do not wish for a normal marriage. I’m not asking for one.”
She watched him, trying to measure his response. At first, there was something very much like want in his eyes, but then it was replaced by the fear again.
Why?
She took a small sip of her brandy to keep herself from fidgeting.
“I cannot marry you,” he said.
The brandy burned in her throat.
“I don’t mean it as a slight against you, Miss Shoringfield,” he added. “But while your logic is—impressive, it is not appropriate for me to take a wife. Any wife.”
“You are unmarried,” Jane repeated, confused.
“I am not married,” he agreed. His jaw tensed as he considered his next words. The fear in his eyes had been replaced with something else. Something more distant, more pained. “Please, Miss Shoringfield. I understand that you have thought through your proposal at length, but I do not wish to cause you more pointless effort. I cannot accept.”
The polite, proper thing to do was to apologize, accept his refusal, and subside. Approach the next man on the list she had drafted, another who met her criteria, who might be more amenable. She needed to sit, and to smile, and yet she found she could do neither.
“Dr. Lawrence,” she said, gripping her glass tightly, “please.”
He ducked his head.
“My parents died when I was very young, when Ruzka began gassing Camhurst during the war,” she started, then stopped, hands shaking. She hadn’t meant to say it; she never spoke of her parents. But her honesty worked a change in him; he lifted his chin, brows drawing together in concern. She pushed forward. “They left me in Mr. Cunningham’s care, along with an annuity to support me. Here in Larrenton, it has been more than enough to cover my costs, even as I’ve grown into marriageable age. There is, however, no dowry, and now the Cunninghams leave for Camhurst within the month.”
She fought to keep her voice even as she spoke.
“Were I to accompany them—and they have requested that I do just that—my expenses would outstrip my annuity even if I were to largely avoid society, which would be impossible given Mr. Cunningham’s new judgeship.” And she would be surrounded by shell-scarred buildings and new construction that tried to replace what had been destroyed, none of which she could stomach even the thought of. But that was too personal to share, by far. “They are willing to pay the difference, but I am not willing to let them.”
The doctor’s mind worked. “But as you can’t remain here unmarried…”
“Exactly. If I’m to stay, I have to find a husband, or things will be quite a bit more difficult than even the capital would be.”
He shook his head, finally looking at her again. “I understand your plight, and I feel for you, Miss Shoringfield, but you do have other options. Surely there are other options. You are…” His cheeks colored, and she remembered again how he’d looked at her from the doorway. Fear, fear that had been caused by her proposal hanging above his head like a sword, knowing he would have to decline. But perhaps it wasn’t just fear—or if it had been fear, it had been fear of a different sort than she’d first thought.
His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “I can’t imagine you will have much difficulty finding a more suitable husband.”