“You are marrying him for other reasons?”
The lingering languor from their lovemaking fled her body. She disentangled herself from Aubrey and moved to the other end of the tub. The movement didn’t truly separate her from him, given the size of the tub and Aubrey’s impressive height and long legs. But it was all she could manage without rising naked before him like Venus from the sea.
“I do not know if I am marrying him at all,” she said, mustering her pride.
Aubrey still believed she would wed the earl.
The shock of this realization was akin to a slap to the face.
She didn’t know what to make of it, what to make ofhim. She suddenly felt cold in the water. A shiver passed through her. What if everything they had shared these last few days hadn’t changed anything for him?
“You aren’t marrying the earl, then?” Aubrey asked, his eyes sharp.
“Perhaps,” she said, feeling a bit raw, as if the protective shell she kept around her heart had been suddenly scraped off. “Perhaps not.”
“You shouldn’t marry him. Carnis is not a good match for you at all.”
“Oh? And who would be a good match, then?” she asked him, inwardly pleading for him to realize what his answer should be.
Me.
But Aubrey didn’t say that.
Instead, he lifted a shoulder in a shrug, his expression unreadable. “I’m afraid I haven’t an inkling, my dear.”
He said it with such carelessness, as if her future were passing scenery he watched with disinterest from the window of a railcar. Misgiving settled within her, heavier than a stone. Had she misread him? He had warned her repeatedly, even that very morning, that he was heartless. Before her was surely that part of him now, so callous and cool, as if everything they had shared these last few days—the intimacies, the conversations, the most personal parts of themselves stripped bare—had meant nothing.
She forced a smile, summoning her tattered pride. “Fortunately, I don’t have to fret over who to choose as my husband until I return to London.”
His jaw tightened, the only indication her words affected him. “Are there others in consideration, aside from Carnis?”
“Of course,” she lied, feigning a bright smile. “There is the Marquess of Penleigh as well.”
“An arrogant arse,” Aubrey declared. “You deserve far better than Penleigh. Why, the man is a widower with two young children. According to common fame, the fellow is responsible for the former Lady Penleigh’s untimely demise.”
She had heard no such rumor, although she was aware the marquess had two children. He was a pleasant man, and they had conversed on numerous occasions at various balls andsuppers. But whilst they possessed a mutual respect for each other, there had been no romantic interest in either direction.
“I must not forget Lord Barclay,” she continued.
“Do you mean Viscount Barclay, the mad footballer?” he asked, sounding incredulous.
She gave him a quelling look. “Yes.”
He shook his head. “Not clever enough by half for a woman of your immense intellect. The man only gives a damn about football and cricket. You would grow tired of conversing with him after approximately fifteen seconds.”
“Then there is the Duke of Weyrich,” she carried on, pulling names out of her memory with complete disregard for whether any of the gentlemen in question had even danced with her at a ball, let alone courted her.
“I never liked the bastard,” Aubrey muttered.
“You are not required to like His Grace,” she pointed out coolly. “You will not be his wife after all. I would, were I to choose to accept his suit.”
Aubrey’s lip curled in apparent disdain. “Right. Of course not. But I am an excellent judge of character, and Weyrich is not a good man.”
“Perhaps I do not need a good man as my husband,” Rhiannon dared to tell him. “Perhaps I only need the man who is the right man for me.”
They stared at each other, the silence between them so tense that just one more word and it might have shattered like glass. Oh, how she wanted to unburden herself to him. To tell him that the right man for her washim. If only he would not be too obtuse to see it. And yet, she was afraid to do so, terribly frightened that if she pushed him too far, he would close himself off to her. She couldn’t bear that. Couldn’t even contemplate the notion of losing him.
She had clearly inferred far more about Aubrey’s intentions than he was willing to admit.
