Excerpt: What If I Loved You

York, England
May 1818

“Well, Blackburn, you’ve done a fine job,” Mr. Everett said, beaming at Jonas across the big oak desk in the solicitor’s private office. “I didn’t think there was a way to free that property, but you’ve found one. His lordship will be pleased.”

Jonas held back a sigh of relief as he returned his employer’s smile. He’d been poring over books and documents for the better part of three weeks trying to figure out how to extricate a piece of property for Viscount Douglas from the generations of marriage settlements and other legal entanglements that kept him from selling it to anyone else.

Mr. Everett had also hinted at the start of this endeavor that a good outcome for the viscount would lead to a good outcome for Jonas.

“I enjoyed the challenge,” Jonas told his employer truthfully. He’d been motivated in part by the intimation of a reward for giving the viscount what he wanted, of course, but he also derived a fair amount of pleasure from finding a solution to what seemed like an impossible problem.

“Perhaps you are ready for another challenge?”

Mr. Everett’s smile changed in a way that Jonas couldn’t quite define, but it made him wary. “What did you have in mind, sir?”

“Domestic bliss.” Jonas must have given him a strange look, because Mr. Everett continued, “A wife, Blackburn. It’s high time you were married.”

Jonas fought the urge to roll his eyes. This again? Why was it anyone else’s business when he married? Or if he married? “Yes sir, I suppose it is.”

“Mr. Puri and I were just talking about how we’d like to give you more of these challenging cases,” Mr. Everett said, his eyes drifting toward the office door of his business partner. “More difficult work would necessitate an increase in your wages, too, of course.”

Jonas leaned forward slightly in his seat, not entirely sure how the conversation had turned from his marriage to a possible raise in pay, but interested nonetheless. “I assure you, sir, that I will do my best with whatever work you see fit to give me.”

“I know you will, Blackburn, and Mr. Puri knows it, too. But we’re reluctant to give you more responsibility than you can handle.”

Jonas felt a bit of the starch go out of him. “Haven’t I already proven to you what I can handle?” This wasn’t the first, nor even the fifth, demanding assignment he’d been given and he’d managed to find answers for each and every client. What more did he need to do?

“Perhaps if you showed a bit more initiative in your home life…”

Jonas wanted to slump in his chair like a petulant school boy, but resisted the temptation. He wasn’t against marriage by any means. He’d even given some thought over the last year or so to finding himself a bride—a partner who could take care of the domestic side of life while he took care of the financial side, whose companionship he could enjoy and reciprocate. But he didn’t particularly like the idea of the man who controlled his livelihood also trying to dictate the direction of his personal life.

Instead Jonas forced himself to nod gravely, ignoring the slightly sweaty odor his employer seemed to be emanating, and repeat a phrase he’d heard one of their clients proclaim on multiple occasions. “Of course. Marriage is what all people should aspire to, isn’t it?”

It was rather a stretching of the truth as far as Jonas was concerned, but Mr. Everett’s smile grew and he flattened both his hands on the desk. “You’ve got the right of it. It makes you appear more stable to a certain type of client—with a wife to take care of you and your home, you have fewer domestic issues to concern you and more time to devote to your work.”

Jonas suppressed the urge to frown. Mr. Everett had a point. One could argue that having a wife created the opportunity to divide his loyalties between his employer and his family. But their landed and titled clients tended toward a more traditional view of the world, and tradition prescribed a wife for every man who could afford to support one.

Jonas managed a few more minutes of conversation with his employer before excusing himself back to the small office he shared with the other two more junior solicitors, Archibald Turner and Eli Hudson. He reached his own desk, frowned mightily at the pile of books and parchment strewn about it, then dropped into his chair.

“That bad?” Archie asked.

“Yes and no,” Jonas replied with the sigh he’d been holding back. “He praised my work, then told me I won’t advance any further until I find a wife.”

“And how close are you to becoming the happiest of men?” Eli grinned.

Jonas shook his head. If he ever was to wed, there’s only one woman he would ever care to ask, but she would never agree. In order to comply with Mr. Everett’s wishes, he’d have to start from scratch. “I doubt I’ve even met the lucky lady yet.”

Archie whistled. “Looks like you’re going to be stuck here with us for a while, then. Unless, maybe…an advertisement in the newspaper?”

That was an idea. Plenty of people did just that, though he didn’t know how many of them ended up content together. “How long do you think it would take to find a woman amenable to a marriage of convenience?”

“In York?” Archie grinned. “Well, we don’t exactly have crowds of people swarming the place.”

Jonas’s father liked to tell stories about York’s heyday when the Prince Regent would come up from London for the Races, and most of the upper echelons of Society would follow. But His Royal Highness had lost interest years ago, and so had the people who flocked here to be near him. “So my options are limited to the women who already live in or near the city.”

“Things would progress even faster if you started with someone you already know,” Eli said. “Any ladies in your life that might not mind being wed to a solicitor?”

Jonas shook his head and ran a hand through his hair, hoping the truth didn’t show on his face. “I’m here with you two most of the time.”

“Except when you’re at that tea shop with the amazing deserts,” Archie reminded him.

Jonas smiled, remembering the cherry tart he’d had there last week when he’d met Nora for luncheon. Apple was his favorite, but she’d had some dried cherries left over from the previous harvest. “You mean Nora,” he replied, trying to disguise the hitch in his breath with a cough.

“Nora?”

“Miss Paget. The woman who makes some of the deserts at the tea shop.” Jonas stood, scrubbing a hand over his face.

Archie smiled, no doubt recalling the last time Nora had come by the office bearing a basket of scones for the three of them. “Miss Paget. What about her?”

“Is she someone you’d want to spend the rest of your life with?” Eli chimed in.

Jonas’s smile widened involuntarily, and he dropped his gaze to the floor. “I’ve spent a full third of my life with her already.”

Eli and Archie exchanged knowing looks and turned to him in unison.

“Then what are you waiting for?” Archie asked.

Jonas shook his head and plopped into his chair once again with a soft thud. “Her parents don’t think I’m good enough for her. And they’re right—I may look like a gentleman, but the men in my family have been blacksmiths for as long as anyone can remember, and the women have worked right alongside them.”

Eli shrugged. “So?”

“Nora’s father is the son of a baron.”

Archie raised his eyebrows in an ah-ha gesture. “Your lineage is important to him.”

Jonas nodded, letting his chin rest on his chest. “Yes.”

“It doesn’t matter that you are educated? That you have a profession fit for a gentleman?” Eli put in.

“Not with the aristocracy,” Archie answered when Jonas remained quiet. “Some are less snobbish than others, but ancestry seems to matter to one degree or another with all of them.”

“Does Miss Paget need permission to marry?” Eli asked.

It was a perfectly logical question, but Jonas winced slightly. “No, she’s of age. But I doubt she would wed without her parents’ approval.”

All three men fell silent for a long moment before Jonas broke the tension with a sigh. “I suppose we should get back to work. Just because Lord Douglas’s business is concluded doesn’t mean we don’t have other things to do.”

Eli turned back to his own work with a smile on his face. “Let’s see how much work you actually complete with thoughts of Miss Paget in your head.”

“And her Chelsea buns,” Archie added with a grin.

“Mmhmm.” Jonas bent over an old parchment document as he spread it out, but his eyes couldn’t seem to focus on it. Could he really ask Nora to marry him? He hadn’t managed to ask her in nearly ten years of wanting to—how on earth would he even start that conversation?

Would their friendship survive if she said no? Knowing Nora, she would gamely go on meeting him at the tea shop, at least for a while, sharing bits of her life over whatever she had baked that week. But the bits she shared would be things she’d tell any acquaintance—polite small talk to keep the conversation going. After turning down an offer of marriage, Jonas highly doubted she would feel ever truly feel comfortable in his presence again, and their meetings would grow farther and farther apart until they simply stopped.

Jonas shuddered reflexively, then glanced around to make sure no one else saw. The thought of Nora, his closest friend, growing distant as their friendship faded away… Could he risk that for the sake of his career? Would it really be so bad to continue working under the auspices of Mr. Everette and Mr. Puri? His pay was decent enough. Perhaps his work would be less than fulfilling, but he could find other ways to stretch his mind, couldn’t he?

But what if she said yes?

The thought popped into his mind fully formed, like Athena from Zeus’s head. He blinked a couple of times and shook his head slightly. Jonas was not opposed to the occasional flight of fancy but he was mainly a pragmatist, particularly when his heart was at stake. And he didn’t want to allow himself to imagine a world where Nora was his wife, where they lived happily together as partners in life—the pain would be too much when the daydream didn’t come true.

He pressed the heels of his hands against his eye sand quietly took a deep breath. Nora was the person he usually talked with about things like this. He exhaled slowly, rubbed his eyes, and picked up the parchment document he was supposed to be reading. Could he still talk to her about this, and omit his wish to ask her for her hand?

Perhaps.

Their regular meeting at the tea shop was in just a few days. That would give him some time to order his thoughts and shield his heart. If he could talk about it dispassionately enough, they might be able to have an extensive conversation about his situation.

Nora might even have an idea or two about the best way for him to move forward.

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