She was astonished at this thought. She who had protested she had no wish to marry Clifford was now going to argue in his favor?
But Vanessa knew what it was like to be pursued only for her money. Clifford might well be after her fortune, but he was not as objectionable as most of the men her friends down in Dorset had married. Many had ended up either with mercenary wretches, or men above their station who did nothing but behave in a condescending manner towards them. Two of the men drank immoderately, and she was sure that another two resorted to physical chastisement when vexed.
When she had expressed concern about her own unmarried state, her aunt had told her there would be plenty of time to make such a momentous decision. But then, her aunt Agatha had never married. She had been in love with a young man who had gone off to war in 1776 and never returned.
Vanessa was full of misgivings, it was true, but she did not want to miss her opportunity either through no fault of her own. She did not know much about the world, but she knew that the fluttering feeling in her stomach had little to do with her illness. It had every thing to do with the compelling presence of the handsome Clifford Stone. Married to the man from the neighboring estate to Hawkesworth House, she would be able to supervise both properties, and perhaps get Gerald to conduct himself in manner befitting a man of his station. And she would perhaps be able to live down the family scandal Gerald's thoughtless actions had brought down upon their heads. Certainly if she didn't marry Clifford Stone, it was unlikely that any other half-decent man would be willing to offer for her.
But she could not play nursemaid to her half-brother forever. Sooner or later he would have to face up to his responsibilities. And of course, if he did not marry, the property would revert to her heirs. She wanted her children to have a legacy of which they could be proud, not embarrassed and ashamed.
Children? Goodness, where had that thought come from? She shifted restlessly in the bed, suddenly nervous, breathless even. Still, many women younger than she had children all the time, and hadn't Clifford said the same thing this afternoon?
Marriage was of course for the purpose of begetting children as well as providing the man and woman with congenial companionship and a suitable helpmeet in life. She enjoyed being with Clifford, and suddenly found the solitude she had endured for so long at her aunt's to be a burden rather than a solace.
She had dreamed of making a good marriage one day. To marry a man she truly loved and desired as a woman should long for a man would be the height of bliss. If Clifford was all that he seemed to be, she would be a lucky woman both in bed and out.
Her breath caught in her throat at the thought of touching his bare flesh, stroking his luxurious blond waves, feeling his arms about her. She was inexperienced, but not naive. She knew of the nature of relations between men and women, having studied it and listened to her wedded friends' confidences. With a good, patient man there was much pleasure to be had in the marriage bed. Clifford had been more than candid about his relations with women. Perhaps Fate had been kind to her after all?
But there was no sense in being hasty. She still had time. Clifford seemed more than willing to protect her good name and reputation. Surely he would not file suit for breach of promise should she say no to him in the end? She owed it to him to keep an open mind, see if he was a man with whom she could share her life contentedly, since this peculiar situation had left her with so few viable options.
She settled down under the covers further, and fell into a deep and refreshing sleep, with her brow unfurrowed by a frown for the first time since Clifford had observed her in repose.
He smiled down at her, and knew that they had begun to have a good understanding of one another. A small battle in the war to win her heart had been waged that day, and he had emerged the victor. He looked forward to their next engagement on the morrow.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The bright sunlight streaming into the cheery bedroom the following morning eventually roused Vanessa from her deep sleep. Claire and Malcolm Branson were there by her side. Malcolm immediately rose to fetch Clifford, who returned a short time later with some tea and buttered crumpets.
Vanessa was glad to see him, and drank in his appearance. Once again he was dashingly handsome, this time in a well-cut burgundy coat with a cream waistcoat and burgundy cravat tied in the mailcoach fashion and affixed with a small, tasteful gold pin.
"Crumpets! How wonderful. Just what I wanted. I'm famished," she said, her voice less papery now that her throat was on the mend.
"Glad to hear it, my dear. I hope you generally have a hearty appetite as well. I've never held with the notion of eating like a sparrow for the sake of fashion."