“It’s—it’s ludicrous. Consider. What will your father say?”
“My father,” he said through teeth that were suddenly gritted, “has already said all there is to say on the matter.”
“You have already asked him?”
“Informed him, rather. Regardless of what you think, I do not require my father’s permission.”
She stared at him through wide, grey eyes. He had never seen her look like that, fragile in an indescribable way, as though he had sliced through every layer of defensive sensuality to find her softly beating heart. “But he cannot have taken it well.”
“Not well,” he conceded. “He threatened to cut me off if I married you, but I care little for that. After I heard what he had to say on the matter, he lost all rights to my respect.”
She shook her head, slowly at first, then faster. “George you must—I’m sorry, but Icannotmarry you.”
Chapter Ten
The worst part was, Caroline was tempted.
After her husband’s death, she had never once been inclined to marry again. Her lifestyle was unorthodox, but she had chosen it, and she was happy to maintain her independence the way she saw fit. Jacqueline’s payments had placed an extra burden on her shoulders, but she had been willing to bear it.
Then George disrupted her routine. He infiltrated not just her bed but her life, her peace of mind. He seduced her in every conceivable way, and the only way to have him was to embrace poverty. To ruin him and her daughter in one fell swoop.
Yet she could see it now, a life with George. Picnics in the country, laughter and desire and the kind of happiness she had once dreamt she could have with another gentleman. And she wanted it. The life she had been denied at seventeen.
It felt like a farce. A joke. Fate laughing in her face as it ripped the one thing she had ever wanted since the boy who ruined her first.
Panic turned the corners of her vision black as she fought to keep her head. This should not be happening; he should not have fallen in love with her. He should not want her, when she was five years his senior and could not be guaranteed to produce him another child.
Cruel of him to ask her when it would be harming his reputation.
Yet if it were not for Jacqueline’s dowry, she might have accepted.
Clearly, she was out of her mind.
“Caro?” George touched her face, and when she blinked, he was before her, naked and glorious, and she loved him. She ached with it.
“This should have ended long ago.” Her voice didn’t sound like her own. “That was my error.”
“End? Surely not.” The hurt in his eyes filled her vision. “If you won’t be my wife, then continue to be my mistress.”
“It’s a flattering offer, but no.” She hunted for her clothes. Why had she let him remove them from her and cast them about the room in all directions? “I have—I have obligations. Things I must . . . and you must marry a wife better suited to you.”
“There is no one more right for me than you.”
“Nonsense.” She laughed, but the sound was brittle, and heavens, she felt as though she was breaking apart. “You missed me and are blinded by post-coital bliss, but your father was right: I would not make you a good wife. Think of the scandal.”
“Areyouafraid of it?” he asked, looking at her intently.
“Not for me, but for you. What viscount marries his whore? Think, George.”
“Many a man across history has married his mistress,” he said, cupping her jaw in his hand. “There may be a small scandal, but thetonwill recover, and it will all be forgotten. You never told me who you were before you married, but you are Lady AugustusSpenser, and you married the son of a duke. Nothing about you is beneath me.”
“So many things about me are beneath you.”
“Then tell me them.”
She should, perhaps. Hammer the final nail into her coffin and confess to Jacqueline. Instead, she reached a hand to her bare throat; she wore no jewels. “I sold everything you gave me,” she said, and watched as confusion crossed his face. “Every last piece that you chose for me so carefully.” Her breath was harsh, and she was going to have to be careful or she might cry. “They are gone. Do you not see? I cannot marry a poor man, and I will not give my heart to a man who will marry another.” Not again. She dashed a hand across her eyes as she buttoned up her dress poorly. Never mind—her pelisse would cover it. All she cared now was about leaving. “It’s better this way. Believe me. You’ll forget me soon, and then you will be glad I had the sense to refuse you.”
His eyes were dark, the expression pained. “There is nothing about this that I will look back on with thankfulness.”
