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It was him. Tatiana’s father.
Jane realized she should announce her presence, but she found herself reluctant to do so. She wanted to enjoy listening to him for a few minutes more. If she made herself known, there would be polite introductions, awkward greetings—and all of it while they were in their nightclothes, which did not seem an auspicious beginning.
“Barclay, it is important that Tatiana not overhear us. You know how she is. I thought if we talk here in the library, we will leave her undisturbed. The poor mite only just fell asleep.”
The accented voice confirmed that his mother was the companion who had followed him into the room.
He gave a dry laugh, which skidded over Jane’s scalp like warm honey. His tone had such a dark and unique timbre, thrilling to listen to, and unlike any she had heard before.
“Are you certain she was not feigning?”
Miss Thompson responded pertly, “Quite certain. She already snuck out for the evening while I was asleep, but a charming young woman returned her to me.”
It sounded like the pair had taken the seats near the entrance of the library. Jane considered rising to inform them of her presence, but she held back. Once again, she found her romantic nature stirred by the presence of the gentleman, and this was her chance to gain insight into him.
“What was so urgent we needed to meet at this late hour?”
“We need to discuss your future, Barclay. This house party represents an opportunity for you to move forward. Natalya has been gone for two years now, and you need to think about the future.”
Barclay was quiet for several seconds before making a low sound of dissension.
“I do not wish to talk about Natalya. Or the future, for that matter.”
“Barclay, I just want to help. You are not aware that Tatiana approached a stranger this evening and asked the young lady to be her new mother?”
“What?”
“You heard me correctly. She found a young woman in the family wing. Miss Davis is a distant relation to the earl, and Tatiana was quite taken with her—so much so that she proposed that Miss Davis marry you.”
The gentleman paused before replying.
“Why would she do that?”
“Tatiana is worried about you. Which is why I insist we need to discuss this situation … for Tatiana’s sake. It has been a long time since Natalya left us. It is time for you to pursue a new relationship. To start again.”
The gentleman sighed, while Jane held her breath, awaiting his response. The precocious daughter and the melancholy father captivated her attention. If only she knew how to help them.
“We will be fine.”
Miss Thompson snorted delicately.
“Barclay, something must be missing from your lives if your daughter is proposing on your behalf to strangers. We must deal with this, son. Are you sleeping?”
“No, but who can sleep when the most beautiful woman in the world was stolen to the heavens by greedy angels, leaving us mere mortals behind to grieve?”
Jane felt a pang shoot through her chest. The raw honesty of the man’s grief was almost too much to hear. There was poetry in his pain, in the way he spoke of his wife—so vivid, so undiminished. She lowered her eyes to the book in her lap, though the words had long since blurred. A single line from the sonnet lingered in her thoughts.
“I all alone beweep my outcast state…”
She should not be here, eavesdropping like some schoolgirl. And yet she could not bring herself to rise.
It was poignant, his love for his lost wife. Jane wished to comfort him in his sadness—and wished, with a sudden sharpness, that a man might one day love her in that way.
“Son, your child needs a mother. And you need a wife. It is time to consider the future.”
“How can I consider the future?”
There was silence. Then came the question, soft and deliberate:
