She turned her head and stared at him, incredulous. “You’re an earl. Of course, you’ll marry.” It wouldn’t be to someone like her, and she understood that.
A muscle in his jaw twitched. “No. The house of Rothchild ends with me. I’ll not be eternally bound, not even to save the earldom.”
“But”—she rolled up onto one elbow and gazed down at him—“you have to have an heir. You’re an earl,” she repeated.
He snorted. “And would the world end if I died without issue? Would the walls of my Thornburg Hall crumble to dust?” He picked up a lock of her hair and twisted it around his finger. “When I came back to that estate and learned my brothers were dead, found my father close to it himself, everyone said how fortunate it was that I had lived. At least there was one male left to carry on the name. And I asked, why? Why would it be so bad if a Blackwell no longer carried the title? There must be a second cousin lazing about somewhere who would pick up the mantle.”
Amanda chewed on the inside of her cheek. “But isn’t it the duty of every gentleman to …”
“Sire an army of children to propagate the English race?” He shook his head. “I’ve learned to pick and choose my duties. Babies, a wife, they’re all tentacles that strangle a man. I won’t be trapped again. Not for anything.”
Or anyone, Amanda thought. She lay back. Her heart broke, just a little, for the man beside her. His future looked as bleak and empty as hers. Only Julius was condemning himself to that fate.
She forced a smile on her face. “Thank you for trying to let me down gently, but I assure you, the idea of matrimony never once crossed my mind.” And it hadn’t. She’d have been a fool to think anything else. “I stand by our original arrangement. A mutually beneficial affair of pleasure. No expectations. No regrets.”
Leaning over, he kissed her on the nose. “Good. Glad to hear it.”
“Just … before you leave to sleep wherever it is that you do, could you hold me for a bit?” She’d grown accustomed to falling asleep with Julius by her side. And to waking up alone. Instead of kicking her from his bed, he found another spot to lay his head. She hated that he couldn’t even share the bed with her the entire night through. But she was beginning to understand it. Understand him. And she counted herself fortunate that they had this time together.
“Sleep?” One edge of Julius’s mouth curled up, a devilish glint shining in his eyes. “Who said anything about sleep? I’m not done with you yet.” He rolled over and stretched for the foot of the bed. Digging in his chest, he pulled out a jade and some oil.
Suddenly, parts of Amanda felt wide awake indeed.
Chapter Twelve
“I think you’re wrong.” Julius frowned at her, his hands on his hips.
Amanda sighed. That seemed to be a recurring theme this morning. “I know. You’ve said that before. Many times. But you aren’t going to change my mind.”
“What is the good of arguing with someone if he doesn’t even know who he’s arguing against?” He paced to the window, and Reggie pounced on his boot. Julius plucked a short bit of rope from the shelf of the library’s bookcase and waggled it in front of the dog’s nose. Amanda’s heart melted. For a man who disclaimed any interest in the pup, Julius seemed most accommodating to Reggie’s needs.
Julius looked up at her. “Well?”
Amanda stared at the signature at the bottom of her parchment. It was her handwriting, but not her name. No one would listen to Miss Amanda Wilcox. She was a woman, and a disgraced one at that. But a Mr. A. Wilson? That name sounded strong.
She folded the four pages into three equal sections and tucked the papers into an envelope. “I’m not arguing with anyone. I wrote an opinion piece forThe Times. I dispute the Marquess of Hanford on several key points regarding his stance on capital punishment. He is free to disagree.” Carefully penning the name of the editor on the front of the envelope, Amanda blew on the wet ink.
And her mind flashed back to a very naughty place.
Cheeks warm, she held the envelope out to Julius. “Will you see that this is delivered?”
“If you sign your own name to it.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Obscuring your identity is just another form of hiding.”
“I thought you approved of my hiding. Something about it keeping me out of trouble.”
“That was last night.” He set his jaw. “You’d just scared the dickens out of me.”
Amanda kept quiet, and kept her arm out. She had patience, too.
“Fine.” Julius blew out a lusty breath. He snatched the envelope from her hand. “But only if you ride with me in the carriage.” She opened her mouth to object, but he was faster. “Just ride in the carriage. With the curtains drawn. Most of the way. I will only ride to the newspaper if you are sitting next to me.”
“That’s blackmail.” Amanda rubbed her palms against her skirts. “Earls don’t stoop to such lengths.”
He snorted. “We’re the worst of the bunch. Now, how badly do you want this delivered?”
“I can have Carter send it.”
“Not if I tell him not to.” Julius raised a dark brow.
