She wondered where he’d gathered that information. Certainly not from Mr. Beckwith. She doubted very much that it had come from Kittridge. Possibly one of her sisters, in innocence, had spouted to a friend and from there it had made the rounds. Or perhaps Winslow had let it slip at one of his clubs when he was in his cups. “I am content with the accommodations my husband made for me.”

“A woman as beautiful as you deserves more than contentment. I want to ensure that as a potential future husband I am not dismissed out of hand.” He scooted up to the edge of his seat. “I would like to take advantage of this time while you are in mourning to forge a friendship—a deep and abiding friendship—with you.”

“I fear, my lord, that I will be too busy seeing that my sisters are properly situated to have time to spend building friendships.”

“I can see them well married.”

Her breath caught, and she froze, the teacup suddenly feeling as though it weighed as much as an elephant. Before it began to rattle in her hand, disclosing her shock at his words, she set it aside. He was not making that offer out of the goodness of his heart. He was doing it in exchange for her. “My lord—”

“It is not an idle boast. I have influence and prestige, which I will put at your disposal. Their mourning period will be at an end shortly after the Season gets underway. I shall see all three married to lords of the highest caliber. This is not a claim your brother can make or see through as he is too young, too green. But my word carries weight. I can start planting the seeds now and we shall see them bloom by Season’s end.”

“That’s quite a generous offer, my lord. I am, however, befuddled regarding why you would care so much about their well-being.”

“It is yours I care about. Once they are situated, once I have proved my devotion to you, once your initial mourning period has ended in a year, we may wed.”

Although a widow went into half mourning after a year, it was not unheard of for her to marry at that time. Still, she was likely to suffer the indignity of being thought promiscuous. Not that the Earl of Elverton cared about that, apparently. “There is still the matter of your present wife, my lord.”

“As I mentioned, she has not been well of late.”

It turned her stomach knowing he was already on the hunt for her replacement. “To be quite honest, Lord Elverton, I find your offer not only grievously vulgar but insulting to your wife as well.” She rose to her feet. “I decline. Please see yourself out.”

With her head held high and her shoulders back, she headed for the door.