His thoughts turned to Jane. Did he love Jane? Yes. But Jane obviously wanted nothing to do with him. Despite what Cass had told him, Jane didn’t love him back. What sort of man of honor would he be if he ignored this letter from the grave? Turned Isabella away? Let her family fall to ruin? Even if he continued to provide them with an income, they would be treated like outcasts. Harold’s children would have no hope of good futures.

Sometimes, what you wanted to do and what you should do were two entirely different things.

He helped Isabella up to sit next to him on the settee. “Why are you just giving me this letter now?”

Isabella cast her gaze toward the floor. She seemed so sad and small and vulnerable. “At first, I needed time to grieve. I spent years in disbelief. I know it sounds senseless, but I actually believed Harold might walk through the door one day.”

Garrett nodded grimly. “That must have been hell for you. I’m sorry.”

She looked up at him. “I know you don’t love me. I know it’s an enormous thing to ask you to raise another man’s children, but we could be happy together. Our feelings might develop, over time.”

Garrett watched her carefully. Isabella wasn’t stupid. There would be no false pretenses between them. Successful marriages had been based on far less than a promise to a friend to whom one owed one’s very life.

Garrett grimaced. The parson’s noose tightened around his neck.

*   *   *

Garrett’s meeting with Isabella had been several hours ago, and after three brandies at the club, marriage to her still didn’t sound like a good idea. He’d have to drink fifty bloody brandies to wrap his mind around it. He hadn’t given her an answer, yet, but it was hardly something he could think about for weeks. She was with child and the sooner a marriage took place the better for her reputation. But there was something else to consider. If the child was a boy, he would be named Garrett’s heir, the future Earl of Upbridge. However, if Harold Langford hadn’t saved his life, the title would have gone out of the family, to a distant cousin, and there was always the chance the child would be a girl.

“Upton, there you are. I thought I might find you here this afternoon.”

Garrett looked up to see Derek Hunt and Rafe Cavendish making their way toward him. He stood to greet them. “Claringdon, Cavendish, good to see you.”

“A bit early in the day for a drink, don’t you think?” Claringdon asked as soon as he was close enough to spot Garrett’s brandy.

“I’m not certain that’s possible,” Rafe added.

Garrett grinned. He’d always liked that Cavendish.