It was another four days before they had finally reached and checked in with all the tenants. At least there had been no other fatalities.

And it took another week before all snowstorm-related issues had been dealt with.

That was the downside of being master of an estate this size: in case of emergencies like blizzards or floods, your presence was needed everywhere at once – and 'everywhere' was vast. Consequently, Hartwell had still been out on the estate from dawn to dinner all week, leaving his children in the capable care of Miss Kenway and the nurses. Even Henry he had sent back to the schoolroom once the shovelling had been taken care of.

All other estate matters had been deferred till later, which meant that this morning – the first 'normal' day despite the remaining blanket of snow outside – Hartwell found himself buried in paperwork.

He had been at it since breakfast, but he was not making much headway. Despite allowing himself the luxury of sleeping until nine this morning, he was tired, and his concentration was at a decidedly low ebb.

He sighed, and once more admonished himself to actually take in what he was reading. It was the third time he was perusing the stupid document, and still he did not have a clue what it was about.

But it was no use. His mind simply refused to cooperate, and in the end, he just threw down the paper on his desk in disgust. This was pointless…

He pushed back his chair and stood. Maybe he should simply allow himself a little procrastination this morning.

He wandered over to the window and gazed out over the landscape. It was beautiful. White as far as the eye could see. He loved the sight of Matlock in the snow – even if it did cause a lot of extra work and even disasters.

He sank down in one of the easy chairs by the window and poured himself a small snifter of brandy. And put his feet up on the chair opposite – if he was going to procrastinate, he might as well do it properly.

And he let his mind wander…

He was happy to see this morning that Ginny was looking decidedly better. She had come down with a nasty headcold last week, and had kept to her rooms for several days in the hope of sparing everyone else the aggravation. Thankfully, her quarantine seemed to have had the desired effect.

Meanwhile, with the determination of youth, Henry and his friend David had dedicated their afternoons this week to try and devise a way to divert or even halt an avalanche. The fate of the Harpers had made a deep impression on the boys.

He himself was contemplating moving every structure that was built on or near a slope of the Peaks to the centre of their valley, where they were far less likely to be overrun by an avalanche.

But that was something for after the winter. Henry's ideas however had merit, too, and he had encouraged his son to test and experiment to his heart's content now that he had plenty of snow available. And so, Henry and David spent many hours out of doors, building and testing ways to divert an avalanche – first on the steepest (not so terribly steep) slope in the park, and later they had moved to work in scale on the far lower but much steeper east bank of the stream. They had started out by the expedient method of trial-and-error, but soon, they had moved on to logic, observation and analysis. From what he had seen, the boys were definitely on to something.

He was proud of them. It would certainly be worth a try to implement their ideas for next winter.

And Philip was still all over Girardaux. He practically worshipped the man, and could not utter three sentences together without referring to him.

Maybe he should sit in on their lesson this afternoon, to see for himself how things were going. At least he had heard no further reports on Girardaux trying to charm the ladies, so that was good.

When he had asked Miss Kenway about it the other day, she had said she rarely even saw the guy: he was taken straight to the music room, and went straight out again. According to the scuttlebutt, he had already found himself an additional pupil in Chesterfield, whither he went immediately after Philip's lesson.

Well, so much the better. He could do without competition for Miss Kenway.

Yes… Miss Kenway… He sighed, and threw back the last of his brandy. He didn't seem to be making much progress with her at all. Yes, they had had that one uninterrupted conversation last week – but he had been too raw and too shattered to seize the opportunity to get to know her better.

Still, he supposed it was a positive development that she cared enough about him to actively send him to bed when she saw how exhausted he was. So far, she had only ever shown such care for the children; evidently, after spending so many evenings in his company, her instinctive drive to take care of others now encompassed even him.

He smiled by himself. Yes, she had a tendency to take care of everyone who found themselves within her purview. A laudable trait indeed for a governess.

For a lady in general as well. It would stand her in good stead if she were to become mistress of Matlock. But the way things were going, that would be a long time in coming – if ever.

He sighed, and rubbed his face in frustration.

Maybe he was going about this all wrong.

Maybe he should stop trying to get a headstart on her.

Maybe he should just allow her to be a part of the process from the very beginning instead. Was that not what being equal partners was all about? After all, where was the equality when he – the almighty man – patronizingly condescended to choose her for a wife, and all she could do was accept?

Or not…

After all, there was always the technical possibility that she might not be interested. That she was happy in her role as the children's governess and had no wish to become the next Countess of Matlock and mistress of one of the largest estates in all of England, with all the riches and status and privileges that came with it. It boggled his mind, but he had to face facts: Miss Kenway came from much the same background as Mrs Darcy. And it seemed that in their circles, family, connections and fortune were nothing when you did not love the man who offered you them.

So where did that leave him with Miss Kenway?

Based on their working relationship, he thought that she (at the very least) respected and esteemed him. That could be a start.

But her respect and esteem were not likely to grow into anything more unless she had an incentive to get to know him better.

And what better incentive than that he was seriously considering to offer for her?

Which meant he would have to tell her. After all, "Don't ambush her with a marriage proposal," Darcy had warned him.

So he had to tell her what he wanted.

Already now.

And ask her.

For a courtship, in order to get to know each other on a more equal footing, in the hope of…

His fingers clenched around the armrests. Asking her was… scary. Daunting. Terrifying, in fact. Did he truly know her well enough to risk it?

Yes, how well did he know her?

Well, he mainly knew her in her role as governess of course. A role she played six days a week, twelve hours a day, fifty-two weeks a year, and that for the past eight years or so.

Was it only a role?

Or was it really her?

Considering how much of her life she spent in that role, combined with her overall genuineness, chances were that Miss Kenway the lady and Miss Kenway the governess were not all that dissimilar. If he felt completely at ease with Miss Kenway the governess, he would probably be equally at ease with Miss Kenway the lady.

At least he hoped that was how it worked.

And he really liked Miss Kenway the governess. He trusted her, too – utterly and completely. For Pete's sake, had he not entrusted the raising of his children to her for the past eight years?! She spent more time with them than he did, and look how well they were turning out!

On top of that, she was honest, reliable, genuine, intelligent, kind, and caring; patient (Philip!), well-read, well-organized, and open for new ideas. Her manners were inviting and pleasant, and she had a natural authority – at least where the children were concerned. (And him, too, for that matter, considering the way she sent him to bed the other night.) She had never made the slightest move to try and capture him; if that was no indication of her trustworthiness, he did not know what was. Plus she found humour in much the same things he did.

He grimaced. Yes. Had he not decided weeks ago already that she was everything he could wish for? Then what the hell was he waiting for?!

Right. So if he wanted to move forward and involve her in the process of exploring whether or not they might suit indeed, he would have to take the plunge and ask her. If she would be interested in a courtship with him. And in the name of equality, he would have to explain to her what he wanted, what he hoped for, and ask if she would be… might perhaps be interested in becoming his partner on an equal footing.

In other words: his wife.

Just thinking about it made him break out in cold sweat. What if this was what she had been waiting for all those years, like a hunting spider in its web? Or what if he bungled the whole thing beyond hope and she thought… well, whatever? Or what if… what if she laughed in his face? Or even just turned him down? (Would she really?)

He clenched his fists and screwed his eyes shut. "Get a hold of yourself, Stephen," he muttered. "This waiting game is not getting you anywhere; you are going to have to ask her sooner or later. Besides…" He took a deep, shuddering breath. "You are not asking her for her hand in marriage yet. Just a courtship. And the whole point of courtships is to get to know each other better, to see if you might suit. And if you do it quietly, in private, no one else need know. Which means there is no automatic obligation to marry her. You can still get out if she is not who you thought she was. That is what bloody courtships are for."

But it was terrifying all the same…

The question remained: when was he going to be able to broach the subject with her? As his frustration from the past weeks testified, opportunities for private conversation with her were not exactly plentiful, and he definitely did not want the children around for this particular conversation.

The problem was of course, that she was with the children all day long. And whenever she was not, he was, except… Yes. After the children had gone off to bed.

Hm. With the way she had rejected his earlier attempts to try and get her to stay behind in the evenings, he doubted she would be very happy with that option, but there really did not seem to be any other viable opportunities to speak with her in private. He would just have to convince her there was something vitally important he wanted to discuss with her, and hope that she would forgive him once she understood what he wanted to talk about.

Maybe Saturday evening would be best; then at least she would have the whole day off the following day, so losing her free hour on Saturday evening would hopefully be… surmountable.

A sigh. Well, not ideal, but he would try. Try to try. At least planning it for Saturday gave him four more days to prepare and steel his nerves.

It was just a courtship he would be asking for after all.

Not her hand in marriage.

Yet.

"Miss Kenway?" A gulp.

"Yes, sir?"

"Would you…" A deep breath before he rushed out, "Would you mind staying a little longer? There is…" Another nervous gulp. "There is something I would like to discuss with you."

She frowned. "Now, sir?" At nine p.m. on Saturday evening?!

"Yes. I am sorry; I promise I will not keep you any longer than necessary."

She sighed. "Very well, sir. If you wish." Although he had been 'wishing' to usurp her time quite a lot lately. It was high time she brought that up.

She sat down again and watched discreetly as Henry and Ginny hugged their father goodnight.

Henry smirked at her behind his sister's back. "Uh-oh," he mouthed, and rolled his eyes with youthful exaggeration.

She couldn't quite quench a little grin. They were really growing up, those two. But even without a mother, the Fitzwilliams were a warm and loving family. She could have done a lot worse when she had been forced to take a position.

The children left for their rooms, and the master turned to her. "Would you like some more tea?"

She sighed. "Yes, please." Though offering her tea did not bode well for his dealing with the matter quickly.

He poured it himself, and prepared it just the way she liked it. Well, no wonder: she had joined the family for dinner and their after-dinner entertainment for a full six weeks now. At his request, though the reasons he gave were dubious at best. Perhaps he would finally come clear as to what this was about?

They sipped their tea in silence though. But even by the time they both had put aside their emptied tea cup, he remained silent. Silent, and rather uneasy – which made her uneasy as well. And had he not just promised that he would not keep her any longer than necessary?! Then why did he not just get on with it?

Better grab the bull by the horns then; if he wouldn't, she would. "You wanted to discuss something, sir?"

He started. "Yes. Yes, I do." Another silence, but at least he now looked as if he was ordering his thoughts.

"Miss Kenway," he began at last, and cleared his throat. "You have been with us a long time, have you not? How long again?"

"Eight years, sir." Was he going to dismiss her?!

"Yes. Eight years." He seemed to plunge back into his thoughts again – very uncharacteristic for her usually so down-to-earth master.

"I hope you are not dissatisfied with my work, sir?" she ventured.

"No! Oh no, you are an excellent governess! And the children love you, too! No, it's just…" He closed his eyes for a moment. "Would you…?" A gulp. Beads of sweat appearing on his forehead. His hands clutching the armrests. Biting his lip. A deep breath, and, "Miss Kenway, have you… Have you ever considered the possibility of becoming… well, more than a governess?"

She was instantly on her feet, wavering between hurt, fury and disappointment. "Are you propositioning me, sir?!" After all these years…!

"What?! No!" He reeled back at the insult. "No! Not at all!" He closed his eyes and rubbed his face in frustration. "I would never ask anything improper of you. Of anyone. I had thought you knew me better than that."

"I thought so, too." He saw how she relaxed somewhat, and even sat down again, albeit at the very edge of the chair, as if poised for flight.

He heaved a sigh. "I am not explaining myself very well, am I."

"Indeed you are not." He was relieved to hear a hint of humour back in her voice. "Perhaps you should start at the beginning."

He nodded, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I do not believe you have ever met the children's mother, have you."

"No, sir, I have not."

"But I assume you do have some idea of what she was like?"

She lowered her eyes. "I have heard rumours, yes."

He nodded, and took another deep breath. "My marrying her was the biggest and stupidest mistake of my life. I barely knew her, but by all accounts of society, we were an excellent match. You know the drill: family, connections, fortune…"

She nodded vaguely.

"The problem was that as the next Earl of Matlock, I was the prize fox in the hunt. I don't know if you have any idea what that is like?"

"I have heard stories," she admitted. "I take it you were the main attraction of every ball, constantly fêted and fawned and fought over, and a hot target for unscrupulous young ladies and their matchmaking mamas?"

He chuckled at her description. "Something like that, yes. But after two seasons of such, with nothing to show for it in terms of a lady who had caught my interest, I was totally worn out, and all I wanted was out. And a speedy marriage seemed to be the only exit. And Agnes – my wife – seemed no worse than any of the others, and we had at least a few interests in common – so I proposed, even though I barely knew her." He shook his head; bitter lines had appeared around his mouth. "As I said, it was the stupidest mistake of my life. She was no different than the rest; she just went about it a bit smarter than most. Our marriage was a nightmare from the start, and once she had presented me with Henry and Virginia, she considered her marital duties fulfilled, and absconded to town, where she lived the life of a high-class whore – and worse. When she died, the children had not seen her in nearly five years – when she came back here to give birth to Philip."

Miss Kenway's head snapped up in realization. "He…!?"

Shocked at his own openness, Hartwell immediately and intently stared her down in threat, daring her to voice the obvious conclusion. Darn it; he had not meant to divulge that yet…

They kept up their staredown for nigh on a full minute – he with intensifying threat; she with realization turning into understanding, and then into compassion.

"I understand, sir," was all she said when she finally averted her eyes.

"Thank you." He slowly let go of his breath. He really should not have let that secret slip yet, but if this interview went the way he hoped, she would have to learn the truth sooner or later. And after all, he did trust her. Implicitly. That was why they were having this conversation in the first place. He knew she would not breathe a word of Philip's scandal to anyone.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, each diligently avoiding to look at the other. But at long last, she gathered her courage and asked, "Sir, why are you telling me all this? What is it you want from me?"

He looked up, much like a deer on the road that was startled by an approaching carriage. She saw his Adam's apple bob up and down – once, twice… thrice. His hands nervously clenched around the armrests again. "I…" So hoarse he needed to clear his throat; his eyes darting from her face to the door to a candle to her hands to…

But then he visibly took a hold of himself and managed to look her in the eye. "Miss Kenway, you were with us when we attended my cousin's wedding in Hertfordshire, were you not?"

She nodded, a slight frown between her eyebrows indicating that she was trying to work out where this was going.

"My cousin Darcy was in much the same predicament as I was in his search for a wife. Yet he defied everyone's expectations, and in some provincial backwater, he found a lady he could truly love. A lady, I might add, who is considered totally unsuitable in the eyes of society, and in the eyes of some of our own family as well. Yet they are deliriously happy together – still. I have seen them several times since their wedding day, and they seem to be happier every next time I see them. Happy, utterly content, totally besotted with each other… 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."