Her countenance changed, growing curious. “You would require me to…share the marriage bed with you until I…”
“I do not expect it would take long,” he said, taking pity on her. “A few weeks, no more. When I am assured you are with child, I will return to Spain, leaving you with a generous stipend to dispose of as you wish. You will also be free to do as you like after the birth of my heir. I will not expect fidelity from you. Nor should you expect it from me.”
A flush stained her pale cheeks. “What you propose is very cold indeed, sir.”
He shrugged. “It is what I am offering you, and far better than the life you have been leading, hidden away like a shameful secret. But you must decide, Lady Catriona, here and now.”
She was silent for a beat, searching his gaze as if seeking the answer to a great mystery.
“What if I bear you a daughter?” she asked at last.
“I will return.” The prospect aggrieved him mightily, for he would prefer to never have to return to English shores again. “I will be candid. The sole reason I require an heir is to prevent my cousin from inheriting the earldom. When that objective has been reached, you will be free to live your life as you choose.”
“What of your child? Would you not wish to meet him?”
He swallowed down a knot of the grief which refused to leave him. “I do not care for children.”
“Why, Lord Rayne?”
He thought of Francisco, pale and still in his arms. Of Maria, quietly bleeding to death before the fever set in. “I do not care for children,” he repeated. “The child will be your responsibility. One heir, that is all I require.”
Her lips compressed, her expression implacable. For a moment, he became convinced she would deny him. If she did, he would accept her refusal. His pride would allow nothing less.
“Yes,” she said at last. “Very well. I will marry you, Lord Rayne.”
Victory.
But a hollow one, nonetheless. How different his last proposal of marriage had been from this one. It had been a lifetime ago, when he had been younger, more innocent. When he had blindly believed in the hope of a future which had never come.
He bowed. “Excelente, my lady. I will see to the rest with Montrose.”
Chapter Two
“When I heardthe news, I almost did not believe it. Tell me, is it true? Have you truly agreed to wed the Earl of Rayne?” the Honorable Miss Hattie Lethbridge demanded, sounding horrified.
They were seated in the drawing room of Hamilton House, enjoying tea as they had on hundreds of other occasions in the past. But this time was different.
Catriona sent her best friend an attempt at a reassuring smile, though she was sure she failed miserably. “It is.”
Thanks to the friendship between their disreputable brothers, Hattie and Catriona had become as close as sisters over the years. She was more grateful than ever to see her friend now, when she was drowning in misery over the fate to which she had consigned herself the day before.
She had scarcely even slept.
Or eaten.
“Oh, dear heavens, Catriona,” Hattie said, her eyes going wide and anxious. “Montrose is not forcing you into it, is he? He is a rogue of the worst order, but surely not even he would do something so dissolute.”
“No,” she said swiftly. “Monty would never force me.”
Her relationship with her brother was…strained in the wake of her ruination. But he would never make her marry anyone. He did not have it in him.
“He did banish you to Scotland,” Hattie pointed out, her lips compressed in a grim, unimpressed twist.
Hattie’s rancor for Monty was no secret. She thought he was a disreputable scoundrel. And, well, Montywasa disreputable scoundrel. There was a reason he was known as the Duke of Debauchery. His reputation was as depraved as it was legendary, and though Catriona loved her brother, she knew he was no angel.
Of course, neither was she.
Far from it, as all fashionable London so painfully was aware.
