Highly likely.
Hamish couldn’t fault her unflattering assessment of their chances of marital happiness. Through two sleepless nights and a wretched day, he’d said most of the same things to himself.
"Still we must marry." He paused, playing what he hoped might be his tru
mp card. "Emily, forgive me if I intrude on private matters, but the demands of caring for your father must stop you accepting any work of your own. I know he hasn’t taken on any students in years. I assume household income has shrunk."
Pink tinged her slanted cheekbones. "You’re right."
"About the hardship?"
Her hands clenched on the arms of the chair. "No, that you intrude."
His gesture was dismissive. "Polly didn’t answer the door last time I visited. Hoskins did. I’m guessing you’ve dispensed with your butler. I also noticed that the Reynolds no longer hangs in the hall, and the two blue Chinese vases have gone from the mantel behind you."
"You have no right," she said tightly, her color flaring hotter.
He hated doing this to her. She was a proud creature.
"I’m a rich man." He kept his voice low and reasonable, praying with not much optimism that she’d acknowledge the practical good sense of what he said. "If we marry, your life will change. So will your father’s. I’ll arrange a nurse. I’ll ensure his every comfort. You’ve already got his health to worry about. Wouldn’t it be nice not to have to worry about money as well?"
She looked at him down her neat little nose. "Are you trying to buy me, Hamish?"
Again he took firm hold of his temper. "I’m pointing out that a match between us has more advantages than just the restoration of your good name."
"And what do you get out of it?"
"The chance to fulfill my ambitions, however much you deride them."
She sighed. "I don’t deride them. I suspect if I was a man, I’d aim to be top of the tree as well."
Hamish permitted himself a faint smile. "If you were a man, I doubt I’d have a shot at becoming Astronomer Royal."
She didn’t smile back. "Don’t try and charm your way into my good graces."
"Perish the thought," he said. "I’m happy to go away and let you consider my proposal. Just don’t take too long."
"You speak as if I’m sure to say yes," she said, bristling up again. For a few seconds there, he’d wondered if she softened toward him. He should have known better.
"When you’ve had a chance to think, you’ll see this is the only way."
Emily shook her head, more in bafflement than denial, he thought. "But I don’t want to marry you."
He didn’t want to marry her either, although if he were a different man in a different universe, he’d gladly take her into his bed. Emily Baylor had a flash and a fire that had always drawn him. "I hope you’ll come to terms with the idea."
She frowned as if at last she put the pieces of the puzzle together – and she didn’t like the picture she saw. "I rarely go out in society, especially now with Papa…"
It was mere weeks since he’d called on Sir John. The deterioration in that time was shocking. "Don’t think you can come through this just by holding your head up and spitting in society’s eye."
She shrugged. "Why not?"
"Because we were caught in public. Because the story is too spicy to fade away." He paused. "Forgive me for asking, but have you any thoughts about what you’ll do, once Sir John is no longer with us?"
Grief flickered in her eyes, but she answered in a firm voice. He’d gladly add her courage to that list of the qualities he commended in her. "I’ve had a fine education, better than most women receive. Surely that means I’ll find employment. I already copy scientific papers for some of Papa’s colleagues. Perhaps someone will take me on as a secretary."
"Secretaries are generally male."
"If that doesn’t work, I’ll find a post as a governess."