Pursuing Miss Hall by Karen Thornell
Chapter Fifteen
The following morning, Meg sought the solace of Papa’s study, despite knowing her mama would sorely disapprove. She had spent the entire previous evening bending to her mother’s wishes, and what she really needed was some time with numbers. Numbers were constant, true, and never confusing.
Knocking on the door, she prayed Papa would be alone. She did not wish to speak with any of the guests just now.
Thankfully, he was.
“Come in—Oh, Meg, I am glad you are here. I wished to speak with you.”
Meg came fully into the room, shooting a longing glance at the estate books piled beside her father. Apparently, they would have to wait.
“What did you wish to speak of?”
“Have a seat. It is probably best you are sitting for this.”
Meg stilled in the act of lowering herself into a chair. What could he wish to speak of?
Without noticing her reticence, Papa bustled about, grabbing a few papers and gathering them together. He faced her, setting the stack of paper in front of him. “In all honesty, I should speak with your mother about this first, but as it affects you far more than her, I am hopeful you will keep my unorthodox approach our little secret.”
The wrinkles to the sides of his eyes crinkled with levity, and Meg struggled to return the lighthearted expression. “Of course, Papa, what do you need?”
“Oh, I do not need anything, my dear. It is only, well, I suppose frankness is best. I have received two marriage proposals for you in the last day.”
Burning in her eyes alerted Meg to the fact that she had entirely forgotten to blink. Proposals? Two Proposals?
“I . . . well . . . I assume you wish to inform me which of the two you have accepted?”
Papa frowned. “Of course not. This is not my marriage, Meg.”
Again, she forgot to blink. “I do not understand, Papa. Is this not what you and Mama wished for? Unless . . . are neither of the proposals from the viscount?” That would explain why he had not chosen her husband immediately. Had Mr. Evans and Mr. Parking really proposed? No, certainly not Mr. Parking. The man was clearly besotted with the elder Miss Evans. It made sense, really, as she was closer to him in years and well suited to help him raise his siblings. They would make a fine match. Fine indeed.
Papa was staring at her oddly, and Meg attempted to reel in her thoughts. He cleared his throat.
“As a matter of fact, one of the proposals is from the viscount.”
“Then—” Meg paused, attempting to decipher Papa’s expression. He looked confused and . . . concerned? “Why have you not accepted him?”
Papa picked up his papers, aligning the edges so they formed straight lines. He cleared his throat again, eying her curiously. “If that is what you wish, my dear, I can certainly accept him on your behalf. Only, do you not wish to know who the other proposal came from?”
Meg surveyed her fingers, twisting them together in her lap. Curiosity was dangerous when she hadn’t a choice in the matter. Curiosity was what had gotten her into this mess. If she hadn’t been so curious about love and the feelings she experienced around Nathan, perhaps she would be more content with the match that was expected. “I cannot imagine it would change the circumstances. Lord Hatfield must be the best option. It is who Mama has wished me to marry since before he arrived.”
“Yes, but do you wish to marry him?”
Did that really matter at this point? Perhaps Papa was testing her. Could Mama have asked him to do so? To ensure that Meg would accept the viscount if he offered for her in person?
No. Papa would never do such a thing. He must truly wish to know.
“I do not know, Papa. I do not love him, but I do not believe that is the only thing a marriage can be built upon. He will provide for me and help elevate our family’s status. I cannot ask for more.”
“Then you do not wish to know of the other proposal?”
“No, thank you.” Certainly Meg would not wish to marry Mr. Evans—that could be the only other proposal anyhow. Lord Hatfield had at least made an effort; he clearly held her in some affection. And it was what Mama wished—what was best for her family. She stood, wishing to be alone. The room was not offering the solace she had sought, quite the contrary, in fact.
“You are certain?” Papa looked anything but, standing with her but watching her with an expression akin to sadness. “It may change your mind.”
“I do not imagine it could. Thank you, Papa. I ought to join the ladies for embroidery.”
She fled the room before Papa could respond, then, instead of seeking out the women, she headed for the library. There was a perfectly placed armchair that could not be seen from the door, and Meg sorely wished to hide just now. Her mind needed time to process. She only wished she had swiped one of Papa’s account books to peruse while she hid.
A crash of thunder sounded outside. She shivered, recalling the last storm. But at least during the last storm, she had had Nathan there to ensure her safety. Who would do so now? Lord Hatfield?
She was as good as engaged to the man, and yet she could not imagine him picking her up and running for shelter. He did not even know of her illness, though she supposed she ought to inform him of it now they were to be married. Oh, and her propensity for numbers. And the fact that she was not simply lucky at cards. Should she also inform him that she hated boredom more than nearly anything else? Perhaps if she asked, he would humor her by climbing through a window to liven up a day.
No. No one but Nathan should ever be allowed to do such a thing.
Nathan.
Oh dear. He was going to be so angry when she told him she had decided to marry the viscount. But he did not understand. As a woman, Meg was required to marry not for herself, but for her family. Ladies did not have the freedom to choose their partner based off love and affection as a man might. Unlike Meg, one day Nathan would find a woman he loved, and he would be free to marry her.
Why did that eventuality make Meg feel as if her heart was trying to escape through her throat? She feared she knew the answer, but it was too late to do anything about it.