Not long ago, Decker would have wagered his entire fortune and every last one of his fucking teeth that he would never be in the position where he currently found himself unhappily mired: calling upon a lady’s guardian to ask for her hand in marriage.
Until last night, he would have sworn it would never happen. Marriage was not for him, not since his long-ago folly with Nora. He had never wanted a wife since.By God, he certainly did not want mutts of his own. The very notion of spawning, furthering the Earl of Graham’s detestable bloodline, made him want to retch. He had spent his entire life since reaching manhood doing his utmost to keep such a travesty from occurring.
The butler bowed and disappeared, his expression unreadable.
Part of Decker expected the Earl of Ravenscroft to appear, ready to go another round, fists raised. But part of him was not at all surprised he was on the receiving end of such stinging refusal to gain an audience.
He was a bastard, after all. Everyone knew that. He was a mere mister as well. And wealthy or no, he was an unashamed voluptuary, a man who lived his life as he saw fit and to hell with anyone who did not approve. No man would welcome him as the husband of his young, innocent sister.
Hell, Decker could not blame Ravenscroft.
But that did not mean he was going to allow the earl to marry Jo off to some pale-faced, small-minded lordling who was not fit to lick the soles of her boots. To the devil with born-in-the-purple aristocrats. Jo deserved better.
A sudden flurry of steps and swish of silken skirts heralded the arrival of a female rather than the butler just before Jo rounded the corner and bustled into the entrance hall.
“Decker!” she said,sotto voce. “Come with me. We have not long before Osgood returns.”
She held out her hand to him.
He had a moment to ponder the wisdom of taking her hand and going wherever she would lead him. But worry was rather a moot point after her irate brother had caught her in his lap the night before, was it not?
Decker went, wishing he was not still wearing his gloves so he could feel her bare skin against his. Also an unwise feeling, he reminded himself. Deuced poor timing. He had arrived here today on a mission.
To obtain her as his wife, not to ruin her.
Even if taking a bride would ruin him in the process.
They disappeared into a library, the door closing behind them.
“You do not have to marry me,” she blurted.
He took a moment to drink in the sight of her. She was wearing a lavender-colored day gown trimmed with blonde lace, her dark hair captured in a simple chignon at her crown.Damn, but she made his heart pound faster. He could not deny his reaction to her any more than he could deny he was going to have to make her his wife.
Mrs. Elijah Decker.
Those three words made his gut cramp. They hit him in the chest. After Nora, he had vowed he would never marry. And now, before him, stood the deliciously feminine destruction of that vow.
“Idohave to marry you, Josie,” he countered, watching as her golden cat’s gaze flitted over his face, lingering on his eye.
Ah, how could he forget his welcome-to-the-family gift from his future brother-in-law?
“I do not care about my reputation,” she told him. “The servant who observed me getting into your carriage has been paid handsomely for his silence. No one will ever know what happened except for us. But you must convince my brother there is no need to worry about me carrying your child.”
Of course Ravenscroft believed Decker’s seed was already planted in Jo’s womb. Decker had made certain of it, and he had no intention of disabusing the blighter of that false belief.
He clenched his jaw. “That is the reason you came racing to me just now and pulled me into this library? To tell me I should throw you to the wolves? What manner of man do you think me, to suppose I would do that?”
Her lush lips parted. “You will not be throwing me to the wolves. Julian was angry yesterday, but he is calmer today. He will not force me into a marriage, despite what he said last night. You need not sacrifice yourself for my sake.”
How misguided she was. He’d had the night to ruminate upon his options. And no matter how many times he turned over the facts and possible outcomes in his mind, he could not deny that the mere thought of her marrying another man—ever—filled him with the urge to claim her as his own.
No, the plain truth was that as much as he did not want to marry, as much as he did not want a wife, he could not allow himself to walk away from Lady Josephine Danvers. He wanted her. If she were to become his wife, he could finally have her. And when he tired of her, as he inevitably would, he would not interfere in her life. She would be free to pursue what she wished, and so would he.
The arrangement would not be an entirely unwanted one, aside from the marriage bit. Having her in his bed would sweeten the unexpected bitterness of having to wed. There were only two impediments to achieving his goal at the moment—Jo and her irate brother.
He took her other hand in his, drawing her nearer to him, and studied her beautiful face. “Marriage to me would not be such a horrible fate, I think. I have no need of your dowry; the money will be yours to dispense with as you wish. I have no need for heirs. You would have your independence, and we could cross off the rest of the items on your list.”
A frown furrowed her brow. “But you do not want to marry. You are a notorious bachelor.”
