Author's Note: I love how you are all asking for a quick continuation this week, to find out whether or not she accepted his courtship proposal. It really gives me the impression that you have taken as much of a liking to them as I have!

And you are in luck: since I'm away this weekend, and the chapter in question was already written ages ago (this chapter was one of the first scenes written for this story, even if the discussion between Hartwell and Miss Kenway has seen quite a few rewrites), I am happy to oblige you! Mind you, it does mean that you will probably have to wait about ten days for the next chapter...

I'd just thought I'd remind you of a warning I added earlier on: this story is certainly no happy-go-lucky romantic young lovers' fluff. Much as we would all love to see them find happiness together soon, Hartwell has some serious trust issues, and as Hiniwalay already points out, Miss Kenway in this situation has some trust issues of her own attached to her position.

I will promise that they will get together - but it most certainly will not be quick and easy! If you can handle a little suspense, then bear with me! :-)

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"… To make a long story short: I want what they are having."

Silence.

The clock on the mantlepiece ticked.

A candle spluttered.

… He found a lady he could truly love. … I want what they are having… Have you ever considered the possibility of becoming more than a governess?

Suddenly, Miss Kenway shocked upright and her eyes widened. "Are you… Are you asking what it sounds like you are asking?!"

He bit his lip. "Ultimately yes, I suppose. But I have learned my lesson about doing these things in haste. So for now, I am merely asking if you…" A gulp. "… If you would be willing to consider – perhaps, maybe eventually at some point – if you would be willing to consider a… a courtship with me, in order to… well, explore the possibility of… maybe… suitability for a… for a happy marriage one day."

She gasped for breath, and for a moment he feared she was going to faint. But no, she was made of sterner stuff.

"I am sorry, Miss Kenway," he began, but she cut him off with a breathless, "Why me?"

He held her eye. "First and foremost because I trust you. Not the most romantic notion, I know, but after my experiences, trust has become of paramount importance to me. I have known you for well over eight years, and in all that time, you have never given me reason to doubt your sincerity. I have come to know you as a genuine, honest and reliable lady, and for eight years now, I have entrusted my children in your care without the slightest hesitation. And my children are everything to me. But you do as you promise, and it would never occur to you to disrespect your marital vows either. Am I correct?"

She nodded mutely, and he had a small smile in return.

"That is why I think we might – perhaps – have a chance of making this work. That is," he hesitated, "If you are amenable to the idea."

She took a deep breath. And another one. "This is all very sudden. Very unexpected." She looked almost disoriented.

He let out a sigh. "I know," he said softly. "I am certainly not asking for a definite reply today. And I am by no means asking for your hand in marriage yet. But I would be honoured if you would be willing to… well… at least consider the mere idea of such a courtship. To give us both the chance to get to know the other before…" He trailed off, and Miss Kenway nodded absent-mindedly, her eyes distant.

He watched her uncertainly. At least she did not turn him away on the spot; he supposed that was a good sign.

But she did not jump at the chance either, and he was not sure how to interpret that.

Suddenly, she looked up. "Was that why you were so insistent about my joining you for dinner? To get to know me better?"

He nodded contritely. "It did not work out quite as I had hoped with the children around, but… yes."

Silence.

He watched her hands as they tensely twisted in her lap. What was she thinking? Was she…?

"Sir," she interrupted his thoughts, her voice rather shriller than usual. "Would you mind answering a few questions?"

"Of course not." A discreet sigh of relief. "Ask."

She nodded jerkily. "Well, the first is one I have already asked, but I am going to ask again: why me? I understand the trust issue, and yes, it makes sense in your situation. But still: why me? I have no family, no connections, no fortune, nothing but my saved wages for a dowry… And technically, I am not even a gentleman's daughter anymore. Surely you could do much better than me?"

He stared at her, rather taken aback. "But…" A deep breath. "Miss Kenway, that is the point! I want… I would like a partner who esteems and values me for myself, regardless of my titles and riches. I want what Darcy and his wife have: this deep appreciation and care for each other. Supporting each other through thick and thin. Being able to laugh and cry together as equals – as friends. That is not something you can buy with money and connections."

Silence as she let that sink in. "And you think you will find that in me? Forgive me if this sounds blunt, sir, but you are pretty much describing a love match."

"I know." A wistful sigh. "I suppose that would be the best possible outcome, but… I would be more than happy to settle for friendship with a lady I know I can trust. That would already be a vast improvement over last time."

"And you expect to find that in me."

"Yes. Or I hope so." He leaned forward in his chair. "Miss Kenway, someone much wiser than me recently pointed out to me that love is a choice. A conscious choice to commit to each other and to care for each other. And seeing how I already trust you, respect you, esteem you, and like you, committing to care for you for the rest of my days seems but the next step. That is of course, if you would allow me to."

To that, she had no reply.

"I am in earnest, Miss Kenway," he practically pleaded. "I like you. I have always liked you. On a more equal footing, I believe we could be friends. Perhaps even more than friends. But it hinges on whether or not you can see me in the same light." He hesitated. "Will you not at least consider it?"

She took a deep breath and slowly let it out again. "Well, I suppose I do rather like you as a person. At least from what I have seen… It is just… I confess I have never really thought of you that way. With regards to matrimony, I mean."

"I understand." He couldn't repress a smile. "But really, Miss Kenway, I certainly would not demand or even expect of you to fall madly in love with me the way we saw from my cousin and his wife. Like I said, I would be more than happy to settle for friendship. Besides…" He chuckled depreciatively. "I don't even know if I still have the capability in me of Darcy's… besottedness with his wife. He is nearly twelve years my junior after all, and I am certainly no spring chicken anymore."

She couldn't help a chuckle. "You are not that old, sir. I bet the young ladies of the ton would still consider you a prime catch."

"Indeed they would," he grumbled. "The ton would blithely marry me off to some 18-year-old debutante. But I don't want an 18-year-old for a wife. Believe me, I have given this very careful thought. What I am looking for is a true partner; an equal. Someone within reasonable range of my own age. And not only for my own sake, but also for the children; they would never accept an 18-year-old having authority over them."

She smiled involuntarily. "Indeed they would not. Philip maybe, but the other two…" She shook her head.

"The age gap would be too small," he agreed. "So you see: your… let us say more mature age is another point in your favour. Not to mention the fact that the children have never known any different than that you have authority over them. If we were to marry one day, that would just make it permanent."

She merely sighed in reply.

"Honestly, Miss Kenway," he tried again when her silence stretched out. "If I am indeed to marry again, for the children's sake I cannot think of anyone even remotely as suitable as you. For my own… well, I confess I have a hard time imagining a better prospect as well. First and foremost because of the trust issue; due to my past, I am… wary… of any lady who shows an interest in me. But as I explained, with you, I do not have to worry about that. And I honestly like you. I have always liked you, and the past weeks have only consolidated that impression. From my side, I think that if we choose to, we would be able to make this work. But you are the mistress of your own life, so you will have to decide for yourself whether you would be willing to give us a chance, or whether you are already irrevocably decided against the idea of me as a husband." A pleading look that reminded her oddly of Ginny. "Will you not at least consider my proposal? Please?"

"A courtship."

"Yes."

"To explore whether we might suit for marriage."

"A happy marriage, yes."

Silence.

He watched her expectantly, anxiously almost. "Miss Kenway," he ventured at last. "Please do not feel pressured into giving me a definite answer tonight. I have had several months to think about this, and not much shorter in considering you specifically. I would much appreciate it if you, too, would take your time to think through the consequences. Remember: marry in haste, repent at leisure. I have no wish to repeat the experience."

She nodded gratefully. "Thank you, sir. I believe I will."

His face lit up. "You will?"

"Consider it, I mean."

"Oh." No, wait – this is actually good, he reminded himself.

She glanced at the clock on the mantlepiece. "So maybe we should call it a night then."

He followed her gaze and nodded. "I suppose so, yes. And Miss Kenway, please allow me to thank you for hearing me out, and for not turning me away on the spot." He chuckled ruefully. "I confess I was far from confident in the reception of my request, and I can only be grateful that you took it so well."

She had a shy smile. "Thank you, sir. It was quite a bolt from the blue indeed, and you have given me much to consider. May I assume we will address the topic again in the near future? For I imagine that upon reflection, I will probably have more questions."

"Of course. But for now…" He got to his feet and took her hand to help her up. "Allow me to wish you good night."

He bowed over her knuckles. It was not a kiss, but she blushed prettily nonetheless. "Thank you, sir. Good night to you, too." She executed a perfect curtsey, and turned to leave the room.

But before she reached the door, she turned back to him. "And sir?"

"Yes?"

"Regardless of what comes from this… Thank you."

He smiled and inclined his head. "Good night, Miss Kenway."

It was more out of sheer habit than anything else that she found her way back to her rooms. And once she had locked the door behind her as she routinely did, she sagged against it, burying her head in her hands.

Good heavens…!

Slowly, she straightened up and wandered over to her bedroom, where she lit a single candle before sinking down on the tabouret at the footend of her bed.

Good heavens…!

Could it really be true? Her master of the past eight years, and the next Earl of Matlock to boot… basically proposing marriage?! To her?! Philippa Kenway of… well, nowhere in particular really?! It was unfathomable!

She took a deep breath to try and calm her racing heart.

And another.

And pinched herself.

But no, she was indeed awake. With an open offer for courtship with a view to marriage from a future earl at her feet.

For a long while, she just sat there, with the thoughts tumbling to and fro in her mind. But at long last, she realized she really ought to go to bed; it was well past midnight. Good thing it was Sunday tomorrow, for she doubted she would get much sleep tonight. Would he have picked a Saturday night on purpose for his baffling request? She would not put it past him.

Slowly, she got ready for bed, but as expected, sleep refused to come. Her mind was simply too occupied coming to terms with this development to allow her any rest.

One thing her mind was trying to sort out was whether or not she could trust him. Trust was obviously a big issue for him, but she felt it was no less an issue for her. A governess's position was vulnerable. And in cases such as hers, where there was no family to stand up for her, it was even more so.

So: could she indeed trust him?

One major point in his favour was the fact that he had never so much as made a wrong move or said a wrong word to her; nor had she ever, in all those years, heard the slightest whiff of rumour that he had importuned other servants. If one were to believe the ton gossip, that was quite extraordinary for a man in his situation. With an unhappy marriage like that (and she had heard far more about that than she had let on), most men in power would have turned to those below them – either out of some misplaced sense of revenge, or plainly in order to satisfy their carnal appetites.

Not so Lord Hartwell. At most he might be visiting ladies of the night elsewhere, but he was so rarely away from his estate that the possible occurrence of such could be labelled as 'sporadic' at best. So although she could not be entirely certain, all the evidence suggested that he had remained true to this marital vows, even in the face of his wife's adultery.

Another point in his favour was his devotion to his children. Unlike most fathers she had met in her life, he actively involved himself in their lives – his daughter's not excluded. And although part of that may be compensation behaviour, it was clear that he loved them very much.

Even young Philip.

She sighed. She still recalled how cold he had been towards baby Philip when she first came here. Innocent as she was, she had thought he was just uncomfortable around little babies. Or else perhaps he was using the baby to take out his anger at his wife for leaving him. But now she understood, and could not help but wonder if the nurses had realized the truth from the start.

But she would not ask. It was obvious that Lord Hartwell did not want it talked about; that he did everything in his power to treat Philip as his own.

And he was a lovable boy. Quite the charmer in fact when he put his mind to it. And his musical gift was truly extraordinary; already he outclassed her, and he was not yet nine years old!

It would certainly be no hardship to take on the role of the children's mother. She had known them practically all their lives; Philip had still been a young baby when she had joined the household, and Ginny and Henry had been four and five respectively. She loved them dearly already, and if she could not have any children of her own…

She stiffened suddenly, carefully tiptoeing towards the arisen question. For if she were to marry Lord Hartwell, could she… perhaps…?

Her breathing went fast. She may still have her maiden virginity, but she was not totally ignorant of the facts of life. If she were to marry Lord Hartwell, he would have the right to… well… take her. Could she…?

It was impossible to visualize something of which she knew so little, something so taboo, but to her own surprise, she did not shrink back from the idea itself. He was such a gentle man; she could not imagine him hurting her on purpose. And even if it would hurt – if that was what it took to experience bringing a child of her own into the world…

She closed her eyes and consciously forced herself to take a step back. Him taking her was more than her imagination could handle, but imagining him kissing her might just work.

Once again to her surprise, she had no trouble visualizing such a scenario. Him embracing her and kissing her. Or her kissing him for that matter. Or seeking refuge in his arms.

She bit her lip. She did not know how, but somehow she just knew she would be safe in his arms. Safe from the world that had treated her so badly.

"Don't be silly," she chided herself. "You are talking as if you have been half in love with him all these years. Better keep a cool head."

She forced her mind back to her youth. Growing up at the debt-ridden little estate of her father's. Dear shabby old Hendon Hall…

She had literally grown up in genteel poverty. There was never money for anything, but they pretended for the sake of keeping up appearances.

Her mother had seen to their education, and had done an excellent job at that. In hindsight, she had often wondered if she had foreseen that her daughters one day would be forced to make their own way in the world. But little Pippa loved learning, and she loved their old pianoforte that no one could tune properly, no matter how hard they tried. So all in all, she had had no cause to complain.

Her father meanwhile spent day and night tending to his struggling estate. Till this day, she did not know if it was her grandfather's spendthrift, or her own father's mismanagement that in the end caused their downfall, but at least no one could blame her father for a lack of effort.

Still, after three crop failures in a row, poor Hendon Hall was declared bankrupt and the family was evicted with little more than the clothes on their back.

Their uncle in town took them in. Which was rather cramped in a four-bedroom house.

Two days later, her father disappeared and was found floating in the Thames the next day. It was an open question whether he had wandered into the Thames due to inebriation, or whether he had consciously committed suicide. At the time – she had been seventeen – she had steadfastly believed the former, but as she grew older, she had been forced to concede to herself that the latter was more likely. Much as she had loved her father, he was not a strong man. And he had taken his failure very hard indeed.

Meanwhile, they all tried to inconvenience her uncle's family as little as they possibly could.

Her 15-year-old brother James went to sea, and they had seen or heard from him but rarely since.

Her poor bereaved mother had taken on the education of her uncle's children, whereas her little sister Eleanor was put to work as an apprentice seamstress at a nearby modiste. She hated it with a vengeance, but they all needed to pitch in to help pay for their keep. It was the least they could do in return for Uncle's generosity.

She herself had found a position as a shop assistant in a small bookstore. At least she had no reason to hate the place itself, even if the proprietor was not a pleasant man and blamed her for anything and everything that went wrong.

Life dragged on that way for six long years, without any hope of relief.

And then her sister, foolish girl that she was, sealed their fate by running off with some officer. They were never found.

Her aunt, who had always seen their presence in her household as an imposition, had turned them out on the spot. At least this time they were allowed to take their meagre belongings.

Mr Eades from the bookstore did not want to see her near his store anymore either, so after pawning the very very last of their valuables (her mother's watch), they were able to secure a room at a dilapidated boarding house in a not too disreputable part of town.

Their financial situation however was dire. There was nothing for it: she would have to find another position. Preferably something like a governess in a posh family, so she would be able to provide for her poor distraught mother without having to worry about her own room and board. And preferably far away from here, where nobody would know anything about her background.

She had enlisted with an agency, and how or why she got recommended to Lord Hartwell or his father she never knew. Fact was, that after a brief interview with the Earl himself, she was packed off to faraway Derbyshire, and found herself in a motherless household teaching a four- and a five-year-old their letters.

Lord Hartwell had been wary of her at first, she recalled. For weeks, he had insisted on being present at her lessons, which was quite unnerving in her first assignment as a governess.

Over time, she had learned he was merely protective of his children. Once he had assured himself of her good character and her competence, he had begun to show his trust by withdrawing from her lessons and letting her get on with it without hovering over her shoulder. Over the years, he had proven himself to be honourable, reasonable in his demands, and in later years even open for suggestions. In short, the perfect employer. Blindly jumping off a cliff as she had done, she could have landed a lot worse.

And now he was basically asking her to marry him…

She wondered what her mother would have said about that!

But she would never know. She had faithfully written to her, and sending her most of her wages. She had received very little response however, and within a year, she had gotten her letter returned with a note that the lady in question had passed away.

She suspected her mother had simply withered away in shame. Indeed it had been a bit much to come to terms with: losing the estate, her husband's probable suicide, her daughter's fall from grace, and now her other daughter forced to take a position as practically a servant.

But with her sister lost, and her brother incommunicado at sea, she, Philippa Kenway, at the age of not yet four-and-twenty had found herself all alone in the world.

She blew out a frustrated breath and turned onto her back. Looking at it rationally, she would be mad to turn down his offer. He could give her everything: a home, a family, security, protection…

Then why was she so wary of jumping at the chance?

She heaved a sigh. Perhaps she just needed more time. Get used to the idea of marrying her long-time employer.

Come to think of it: what would her status be once… if… they were married? Yes, he talked about wanting an equal partner, but after all these years, would he not see her as a subordinate out of sheer habit?

And what about the other servants, many of whom she considered her friends?

And what about…? How about…? What if…? What if…?

She groaned in frustration and threw herself onto her other side, burying her face in the pillow. She needed to talk this over with someone. Preferably someone impartial, someone who had no stake in the matter.

But who? Maybe...?