Hester Waring's Marriage by Paula Marshall Page B

such a superb command of the English language?
    She merely said instead, ‘That I think that you have run mad, Mr Dilhorne, except that you sound so eminently sane, which I admit confuses me more than a little. Are you really serious?’
    â€˜Yes, I am really serious.’
    Hester had to admit that he must be. Through the haze which had begun to surround her she could detect that he looked more serious than she had ever seen him before.
    â€˜In name only?’ she asked him. ‘With all that that implies?’
    Hester felt that it would be grossly indelicate to put it any more plainly, to say, We are not to go to bed together, Mr Dilhorne? or, You will not demand your marital rights? She dismissed from her mind what her mother and fatherwould have said to…all this. After all, it was not they who were living on a knife edge with the gutter and the brothel staring them in the face.
    Was she really having this remarkable conversation with her father’s ogre, or was she dreaming it?
    â€˜Yes, in name only, Miss Waring. You understand me, I’m sure.’
    â€˜How do I know that, once married, you will keep your word?’
    â€˜I always keep my word, once given. Without my word, I may do anything…anything at all. And if the other party breaks their word, then, again, I am free to act as I please. Perhaps you would like Joseph Smith to draw up a contract for us to sign, Miss Waring? We can get him and one of my clerks to witness it.’
    Another dreadful giggle escaped her at the mere idea of such an outlandish notion.
    â€˜I think not, Mr Dilhorne, it would not be fitting. Tell me, are there many businessmen like you?’
    â€˜Fortunately not, Miss Waring, else I should not be so disgustingly rich.’
    Thinking this over, rather hazily, Hester nevertheless thought that she took his meaning. She mumbled, rather than replied as decorously as she would have wished, ‘Do you expect an…ansher…answer immediately, Mr Dilhorne?’ For some reason it was getting harder and harder to speak. Her tongue was thick and she needed to rest. Oh, how she needed to rest!
    â€˜No, Miss Waring. You may give me an answer when you wish. Except that I hope that you may not be too long. We are neither of us getting any younger.’
    â€˜Indubitably, Mr Dilhorne.’ This proved surprisingly difficult to say. ‘Not too long then.’
    Why was it that lately, when she met him, she always wanted to sleep? Even the food he had sent her had put her to sleep. Part of her wanted to say Yes, immediately, to his disgraceful proposition. The other part, the part her father and mother had nurtured, told her that she was mad to trust this ruffian, no matter how beautifully he now dressed and spoke.
    Her vulgar Mentor suddenly popped up again—having been asleep, no doubt, while Mr Tom Dilhorne was cunningly bending her to his will—and said loudly, But think of the comfort, the good food, the conversation—you like talking to him, you know you do—and you will be safe from the Larkins of this world and their impudent clerks.
    She refused to admit to herself that Mr Tom Dilhorne still frightened her a little even though she was beginning to find him disturbingly attractive.
    Hester gave a great yawn and surrendered. ‘I will give you an answer in a week, Mr Dilhorne.’
    Carefully placing her empty glass beside the nearly empty bottle, she settled back in her chair and went to sleep as quietly and properly as a fuddled lady could.
    His face a mixture of amusement and tenderness—an expression which would have astounded everyone who knew him—Mr Tom Dilhorne looked down at her and, moved by some impulse he could not define, bent down and kissed the top of her head.
    That done, he rose, walked to his desk and resumed his interrupted work, but not before he had looked across at her face, serene in sleep, and murmured to himself, ‘And if I don’t get