“I want . . .” Her gaze faltered and she glanced at his cravat. She took a deep breath and met his eyes again. “I want an apology, Your Grace. And I want your promise that your sisters will be allowed to enjoy the social Season. They should have fun, be young and lighthearted. Allow them to experience life before marriage. Give your sisters their moment in the sun and watch them bloom.”

“Ha.” He chuckled at her audacity. “I’m not very good at making apologies. I’ll acknowledge that I could have broken the news to my sisters more gently. Let them have time to become accustomed to the idea of my marrying, and their replenished dowries and prospects.”

“Then you’re going forward with marrying Blanche and Bernadette to suitors of your choosing?”

“I wouldn’t put it that way.”

“How would you put it?”

“I’m providing them with avenues they should, and will, choose to pursue.”

“You’re giving them a choice?”

“Obviously I can’t force them to marry and I wouldn’t want to. I found them suitors and I only ask that they seriously entertain the idea. I believe they’ll make the right choice.”

“Here’s the thing about young ladies, Your Grace, they don’t much like being told that their options are limited and their futures have been decided for them.”

Despite the challenging words, she was coming round. He could see it in her eyes. He pressed his advantage. “My sisters crave your good opinion, Miss Beaton. They told me that they want to be better for you. I haven’t heard them say something like that since our mother died.” A smile touched his lips and nearly reached his heart. “Joie de vivre radiates from you like sunshine, casting a golden glow on everyone around you.”

She shrugged off his words with a nervous laugh. “I was only doing my job.”

“You don’t like compliments.”

“I’m not accustomed to them.”

“Then accept the exorbitant salary I’m willing to pay as inducement.” He pried the knitting needle from her fingers and set it aside. “My sisters need you. I need you.” He brushed a stray curl away from her cheek. “Accept my offer of safe, comfortable lodgings, superior pianofortes fit for a famous composer, and, if I agree to allow my sisters to attend the Season, you’ll accompany them.”

“Pardon?” She tucked her chin. “I’ve never attended a Season in my life. I’ve been to balls with my friends but I’ve always been a wallflower. I know almost no one in the fashionable world. I’m not the right choice as chaperone.”