"Yes, too well-dressed."
"I am not that well-dressed."
She looked at his coat. "Your buttons cost more than my shoes."
Nathaniel glanced down. "That may be true."
"You're a gentleman."
"Yes."
"Rich."
"Yes."
"Annoying."
"I haven't known you long enough to answer."
She smiled. "That's the first sensible thing you've said." Then she walked away.
The innkeeper came up beside him. "You're interested in her."
Nathaniel looked at him. "I am not."
The innkeeper laughed. "You should tell your face."
"My face is perfectly composed."
"Your face followed her around the corner."
Nathaniel stared at him. The innkeeper grinned. "Welcome to Belford."
That evening, Nathaniel saw Evelyn again. She was sitting alone at a small table near the back of the inn, reading a book. He approached. She looked up.
"You again?"
"Yes."
"Did the cat send you?"
"No."
"Pity. I was beginning to trust him."
Nathaniel sat opposite her. She closed the book. "What do you want?"
"I have a proposition."
"That sounds ominous."
"It concerns marriage."
She stared at him. Then she laughed—not politely, not quietly. She actually laughed. Nathaniel waited. When she finally stopped, she wiped the corner of one eye.
"I'm sorry."
"You don't sound sorry."
"I am trying."
"You are failing."
"Yes." She looked at him again. "You're serious?"
"Very."
"Do I know you?"
"No."
"Then why would you propose marriage to me?"
"Because I believe we might suit each other."
"That is the strangest thing anyone has said to me this week."
"It is not a declaration of love."
"That makes it stranger."
Nathaniel leaned back. "I am not asking you to love me."
Her amusement faded. "Then what are you asking?"
He met her eyes. "Give me an heir."
Evelyn went completely still. Outside, someone shouted. A horse whinnied. A spoon fell in the kitchen. Neither moved.
Finally, Evelyn said, "I beg your pardon."
Nathaniel repeated himself: "I need a legitimate heir."
She stared at him. "You've mistaken me for someone else."
"I haven't."
"You don't even know me."