Oh.
It was Allie’s turn to swallow.
“I have been so concerned about your future,” he continued.
“Not concerned enough to permit me to forge my own path.”
“I know that is how you see it, but I have been looking at the problem from a gentleman’s point of view. I know the world isn’t kind to unmarried women of a certain age—Ow!” He rubbed his ribcage where Allie had poked him.
“No uncharitable comments about my age. You love me, remember? That means saying nice things.” She cuddled closer.
He grunted softly. “As I was saying, marriage is the best opportunity for a lady to achieve financial stability. I examined nearly every unmarried man in thetonbefore selecting Charswood as a potential partner for you. He is an honorable man. One who would grant you lavish pin money and liberty without forcing you to share his bed. Most significantly, he is anolderman. Therefore, you would be widowed rather young, giving you all the freedom you crave.”
“Charswood said as much when he proposed,” Allie harrumphed. “That you were the one who proposed our marriage as he had outlined it.”
“He spoke the truth. Ihavebeen listening to you. I do understand what you want, and I have been endeavoring to gift it to you. You simply haven’t been listening tome.”
“Perhaps,” Allie conceded, “or maybe you have been rather poor at communicating your thoughts.”
“Well . . . maybe, that too,” he admitted begrudgingly.
“And you must confess that my marriage to Charswood would benefit you politically and financially, as well. So it isn’t as if your behavior has been entirely altruistic. You are still our father’s son in some ways.”
“I do acknowledge that there are secondary advantages to such a match, but had Charswood proved a man like our father, I most certainly would not have promoted a match between you. I have always held your interests first and foremost. Why do you continue to refuse him? He would give you the life you claim to want.”
“Yes, but I have since realized that I want more than Charswood can give.”
“More?” Tristan huffed a disbelieving laugh. “Like what, pray tell?”
“Children, for one.”
That silenced her brother for a solid fifteen seconds.
“You want . . . you want children?” he asked.
“Yes. I do.” Allie pushed out of his arms to sit up. “I want a husband I love. And I want us to fill a ramshackle house with children that we love. And we will all belong together and play and bicker and make up and be an enormous, messy family.” Her hands were waving now, the yearning for her vision so strong. “And when you come to visit us, we will force you to join in with our messy, chaotic, wonderful life. The children will shriek with joy and race down the drive to welcome their favorite uncle and bury you under the force of their happiness. There will probably even be a large dog to lick your face.”
Tears pricked her eyes once more.
With a grimace, her brother offered her the use of his shirttails again.
“How is any of that freedom?” he asked. “It sounds . . . confining. And, frankly, unsanitary.”
“Don’t you see, Tristan?” She dabbed at her eyes. “It’sbelonging. I’ve thought all this time I wanted freedom, but in actuality, I merely want to recapture what you and I once had—truebelonging. When you belong to others, you don’t need to escape.”
He lay in silence, as if needing time to accommodate her revelations.
Finally, he released a deep breath. “Somehow, I already know Ethan Penn-Leith is the husband you are envisioning in this scenario?”
“Hah! Yes!” She pointed a finger at him. “I think your twin sense is returning.”
He rolled his eyes. “We never had a twin sense, whatever that is.”
“Hush. We did. And you’re ruining this moment.”
“Allie—”
“As I said earlier, I am going to marry Ethan, Tristan, with or without your blessing. But I would very much like you to sanction our union, as I want you to be in my life, just as I want to belong in yours.”
