Page 11 of Convincing Marianne (The Widows of Lavender Cottage #2)

Chapter Ten

H enry walked beside Lady Marianne on their return journey, his mind still processing the morning's revelations.

The festival planning had shown him yet another facet of his neighbor's character—her genuine understanding of complex social issues, her ability to see connections between seemingly unrelated problems, her natural leadership skills that emerged when she was passionate about a cause.

It was becoming increasingly difficult to dismiss her as merely an eccentric widow with poor judgment in domestic animals.

Which was precisely the problem.

Henry had built his post-war life around careful control and measured decisions.

He chose his friends deliberately, his investments wisely, his activities purposefully.

He did not allow himself to become... intrigued.

.. by neighbors whose lives seemed designed to create the sort of chaos he'd worked so hard to escape.

And yet here he was, finding excuses to spend time with Lady Marianne, dropping everything when she needed assistance, and actively looking forward to their collaboration on the festival. It was exactly the sort of undisciplined thinking that led to poor decisions and unwanted complications.

The solution, he decided as they approached the village outskirts, was obvious.

If he could help Lady Marianne find a suitable husband—someone who appreciated her qualities while providing the stability and protection she clearly needed—then his own inappropriate interest would naturally resolve itself.

She would be settled and secure, and he could return to his ordered existence with a clear conscience.

It was a perfectly logical plan.

"Lady Marianne," he began carefully, "I hope you won't think me presumptuous, but today's meeting highlighted some... observations... I've been considering."

"Observations?" she asked, glancing at him with curiosity.

"About your situation. Your independence is admirable, of course, but given the pressure from your family and the... complications... that seem to arise from your unconventional lifestyle, perhaps it might be wise to consider more permanent arrangements."

"Permanent arrangements?"

Henry could see he wasn't explaining himself clearly. "Marriage, I mean. To someone suitable. Someone who would appreciate your qualities while providing the protection and social position that would silence your critics."

Lady Marianne had gone very still beside him, though she continued walking. Wellington, sensing some change in atmosphere, looked up at both of them with concerned attention.

"I see," she said quietly. "And you believe you are such a person?”

His face drained of color and it took a moment for him to compose himself. Pounding on his chest to alleviate a sudden urge to cough. “No, that is to say, yes, I would be, but.” He looked at her in distress.

But she saved him. “Then not you, but do you believe such a person exists?” Her face was pink, as though somewhat affected by the conversation, but she was remarkably composed in what had turned out to be a horribly awkward situation for him.

"Certainly. You have many admirable qualities that any sensible man would value.

Your compassion, your intelligence, your.

.. energy. The right gentleman would see past the surface unconventionality to appreciate your genuine worth. "

Henry was rather pleased with this assessment. It was both truthful and encouraging, acknowledging her strengths while suggesting reasonable solutions to her difficulties.

"How thoughtful of you," Lady Marianne murmured, though something in her tone suggested she was less pleased with his analysis than he'd expected.

"The key," Henry continued, warming to his theme, "would be presenting yourself in a way that highlights your best qualities while... managing... the more challenging aspects of your household."

"Managing?"

"Well, not everyone appreciates the... abundance... of your animal companions. And your tendency toward impulsive decisions, while charming in its way, might concern more cautious gentlemen. But with proper guidance..."

He trailed off, suddenly aware that Lady Marianne's expression had grown increasingly distant with each word he spoke.

"Proper guidance," she repeated.

"I don't mean to suggest there's anything wrong with your natural inclinations," Henry said hastily, realizing he might have overstepped. "Simply that a strategic approach to courtship might yield better results than... organic encounters."

"Like the encounters with the suitors my family provides?"

"Heavens, no. Those men are clearly fortune hunters with no genuine appreciation for your character. I'm thinking of someone more... substantial. Someone who would value your mind as well as your inheritance."

Lady Marianne stopped walking entirely, turning to face him with an expression he couldn't quite read. "And you believe you could help me... manage myself... in such a way as to attract this hypothetical substantial gentleman?"

"I have some experience with social expectations," Henry said carefully, beginning to suspect this conversation wasn't proceeding as he'd intended. "And I've observed which behaviors tend to reassure conventional society versus those that cause concern."

"I see. And my current behaviors cause concern?"

"Not to me," Henry said quickly, realizing how his words might sound. "But to potential suitors who don't know you well enough to appreciate your... unique approach to life."

Lady Marianne resumed walking, but Henry noticed she'd put slightly more distance between them. "How interesting. And what specific guidance would you suggest?"

"Well, perhaps we could work on... moderating... some of the more dramatic incidents. Like yesterday's tree climbing. Most gentlemen would find such behavior alarming rather than endearing."

"Alarming," Lady Marianne repeated in the same quiet tone.

"Not that your concern for Clarence wasn't admirable," Henry added hastily. "But there are more conventional ways to handle such situations. Calling for assistance rather than attempting rescues yourself, for instance."

"More conventional ways."

Henry was beginning to realize that Lady Marianne's repetition of his phrases might not indicate agreement so much as... something else. But having begun this conversation, he felt obligated to see it through.

"And perhaps we could discuss appropriate entertaining. The drawing room environment, so to speak. How to create the sort of atmosphere that encourages serious suitors while... containing... the more unpredictable elements of your household."

"You mean hiding the animals."

"Not hiding, exactly. More like... strategic presentation. Showcasing your domestic accomplishments while ensuring that potential suitors aren't overwhelmed by... chaos."

Lady Marianne was quiet for so long that Henry began to worry he'd seriously offended her. When she finally spoke, her voice was carefully neutral.

"You're very kind to offer such assistance. I suppose you have considerable expertise in these matters?"

"I've observed successful courtships," Henry said, though he was beginning to question his own qualifications for this particular guidance. "And I understand what qualities gentlemen typically seek in a wife."

"Of course. Conventional qualities. Proper behavior. Strategic presentation."

"Exactly." Henry felt relieved that she seemed to be understanding his point. "Though naturally, any gentleman worthy of your consideration would appreciate your genuine character once he came to know you properly."

"Once he came to know me properly," Lady Marianne agreed. "After I'd successfully hidden all the aspects of my personality that might concern him initially."

"I wouldn't put it quite like that..."

"How would you put it?"

Henry found himself struggling to explain his reasoning in a way that didn't sound like he was criticizing everything about her current life.

"I simply think you deserve better than the sort of men your family has been inflicting upon you.

And sometimes, attracting better options requires. .. adjustment."

They had reached Lady Marianne's gate, where Clarence was perched in his usual position of magnificent surveillance. The peacock regarded Henry with what appeared to be disapproval, as if he'd somehow sensed the nature of their conversation.

"Well," Lady Marianne said with forced brightness, "it happens that I have an opportunity to practice these conventional entertaining skills this very evening. I'm expecting a suitor—a gentleman my family arranged to meet with me."

Henry felt an unexpected stab of something that might have been alarm. "This evening? Another of your brother-in-law's choices?"

"I believe so. Lord Edmund was quite insistent that I give this particular gentleman proper consideration." Lady Marianne's tone suggested she was looking forward to the evening about as much as she might anticipate a tooth extraction.

"And you agreed to receive him?"

"I can hardly continue refusing every introduction. As you've pointed out, I need to consider more permanent arrangements."

Henry found himself surprisingly disturbed by this development. "What do you know about this gentleman?"

"Very little. Lord Edmund assures me he's respectable, well-connected, and genuinely interested in marriage rather than mere fortune hunting."

"That's hardly enough information to judge someone's character," Henry said sharply. "What's his name? His family? His prospects?"

Lady Marianne looked at him with surprise. "I wasn't aware you took such interest in my social calendar."

"I simply think you should be properly informed before entertaining strangers," Henry said, though he wasn't entirely sure why this particular stranger bothered him so much. "Especially given your family's track record in selecting appropriate candidates."