“How has it come to pass?” he asked calmly, determined to be steady for her. To allow her to crash upon him like a storm upon the shore should she so need.
“My uncle, alas.” Her eyes shone with tears that refused to slip free. “Poor man. Poorer investments.”
He winced.
If her uncle had lost everything, including her fortune, there would be a scandal.
He might be able to mitigate it, but it would not be easy.
“This shan’t affect Margaret and Kit’s wedding,” he assured. “Kit has more than enough money and doesn’t require Margaret’s dowry.”
“I’m glad,” she rushed. “I should hate to think that you would withdraw your support if you found out that one of the parties was destitute.”
“I would prefer there not to be a financial disaster,” he said honestly, “but sometimes these things happen. Margaret is worth far more than a dowry.”
He loathed seeing her in so much pain. He had spent all his life ensuring he felt nothing akin to such agony. And here she was in the depths of it. Yet she fought her tears, which only added to the tension gripping her body.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “My uncle has advised me to marry as a way out of my problems. Otherwise, I suppose I must find work. And I do not know what I am capable of doing that will gain me adequate funds to ensure that I do not live in poverty for the rest of my life.” She sucked in a shuddering breath. “I have no skills, William. Not any that would do me good.”
Some people—those who did not know better—might boldly declare that they were going to go out and live as a pauper to keep their principles.
He was glad she was not so naive.
She let out a horrible sound of pain, and he found his own soul breaking, because he suddenly understood what it meant to be a lady who could not be self-sufficient, especially a lady like Lady Beatrice.
“I am so very sorry,” he said. “Surely we can find a solution to your problem.”
She shook her head. “My uncle says it is marriage, society says that it is marriage, and yet I have sworn to myself that I would never marry without…” She swallowed as if she was about to admit something she preferred not to, then continued. “That I would have my independence, that I would continue to do my work and to help all the causes…”
And then her face went positively pale. “Oh dear God,” she cried.
“What is it?” he asked, taking her hands into his.
“I supply so many funds to so many organizations that care for vulnerable women and children,” she raced, clearly panicked. “Food, blankets, shoes for those who’ve known naught but the frigid cobbles and mud, educations… Can I be so selfish to choose poverty over marriage and allow all those I’ve helped to suffer anew?”
And then she pulled her hands from his, turned to the fire, and buried her face in her palms.
For one moment, he found himself completely at a loss in the face of her agony.
Her entire life and purpose were escaping her. All the power she had was tied up in her financial independence, and without money, her power was slipping away like sand through an hourglass.
She was not mistaken. She was capable, intelligent, and passionate, but she had no skills that would find a woman work. If she’d been a man? It would have been different. He would have set her up immediately as a clerk or found her an apprenticeship that would lead to a good wage.
Perhaps she could acquire a position as a governess. Or a dressmaker might give her work. But both were doubtful.
She’d not worked a day in her life. Not by the standards of a profession.
His thoughts whirled about his head like the hurricanes he had read about that took place across the Atlantic.
He crossed quickly to her, searching for reasonable advice. “Marry me,” he blurted, and before he could finish his sentence, he recoiled at his own rash proclamation.
What had he just said? Could he take it back? Surely she’d refuse him; she was so opposed to marriage.
What the devil had possessed him? For that was not his own sensible self asking such a thing.
How had those words escaped his lips?
She swung her gaze to him and looked as if he had completely lost his wits.