"I am not attempting to amuse you. Why are you so convinced that I am?"
"Because you are the most romantic woman I have ever known," he argued. "You believe in love with a persistence that defies all evidence to the contrary. You have argued for it, defended it, insisted upon it with a determination I have never found particularly rational, and now you propose a marriage entirely devoid of it."
There was a brief pause.
"That is not consistent."
"It is not intended to be. I am trying to be reasonable in a way that I have never been."
Julian studied her more closely.
"What you are suggesting stands in direct opposition to everything you have ever claimed to value. Do you not understand that?"
"I do," she replied. "Searching for love has gotten me nowhere. Perhaps it is time for me to try your approach."
"Perhaps," he repeated in disbelief. "This is not a matter of uncertainty. You cannot change your mind once you are married."
The word settled between them. Julian’s face did not shift, though his body did as he moved his weight from one foot to the other.
"You are proposing," he said slowly, "to enter into a marriage without affection, without any of the considerations that most people would regard as essential."
"Yes."
"And you consider that acceptable?"
"I consider it practical. You of all people should thank me for that."
He held her gaze.
"You would not receive what you have always expected," he said. "There would be no attempt to provide it."
"I am not asking for it."
"There would be no affection," he continued, more precisely now. "No particular regard beyond what is required. If you are suggesting this with the expectation that I will change my mind, you are wrong."
Miss Whitcombe said nothing. Julian’s voice lowered slightly, though it did not soften.
"There would be no love."
The words were clear, unambiguous, leaving no space for interpretation. For a brief moment, something shifted in her expression. He did not look away. Miss Whitcombe drew a slow breath, her eyes not leaving his.
She was a pretty young lady, but Julian knew he was not the first person to note that. He wondered, when they first met, how she was unmarried, but he soon learned why. Gentlemen heard of ladies in want of love and affection and they ran. He would have been one of them had it not offered him protection. He could stand near her and have other, easier to please ladies leave him be. It was convenient then.
Now, it was anything but.
"I understand," she said. "I am not in search of love, not anymore. I am not proposing something I do not understand."
"Then explain it," he said. "Explain how you arrived at this conclusion without abandoning everything you have previously believed."
"I am not abandoning anything," she said. "I am recognizing the limitations. You require a wife, that much is clear regardless of whether you choose to acknowledge it openly. Your household demands it. Your sister, in particular, will require more than you alone can reasonably provide."
Julian’s expression remained unchanged, though his attention had sharpened again. He did not like it when people spoke of Lily, especially not when they were making assumptions about what she needed.
"And do you believe yourself suited to that role?"
"I do," she said. "I am already known to your household. Your sister is comfortable with me. I am capable of managing the responsibilities attached to your position without difficulty. There would be no disruption, and no period of adjustment that might create uncertainty."
"And in return?"