Rhoda wandered slowly toward the window. “You can see the park from here!” she exclaimed in surprise.
It was a beautiful house.
Itwouldbe a beautiful house.
After a few thousand pounds was dumped into it.
He’d returned to the room and was watching her, a grimace on his lips. “It is in horrible repair.”
She couldn’t pretend otherwise, and so she nodded. “But it could be a wonderful home.” It was so much larger than her father’s townhouse. “It seems solid enough.”
He smiled at that.
“I cannot marry you,” she blurted. “You need to marry money.”
He went still at her words. “I need to marry you.”
A sob nearly tore past her throat. “We would be broke. Worse than that, your cousins would be broke. And your tenants would remain in squalor.”
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I spoke with my solicitors, regarding some investments I might make.” He shifted his gaze to the floor. “Let’s not be hasty.”
That’s what he’d said before. She dared not to breathe while waiting for him to continue.
“Do you not wish to marry me?” His question took her by surprise.
“You are insane for wanting to marry me!” She closed her eyes. “I’m no prize, that’s for certain.”
And then she was in his arms. And his hands roved frantically over her back, down her sides.
A shudder ran through him as he buried his head into the crook of her neck. “But I do. I do wish to marry you.” His voice came out in a harsh whisper. He was practically trembling.
Rhoda swallowed hard and slid her hands around his waist. She almost felt as though he cared about her.
He was not St. John.
He’d not brought her here in order to bed her.
“I—” His searching kiss cut her off. Almost violent at first, demanding, desperate. Rhoda tightened her arms around him as she tilted her head back.
Everything about this man felt real. His kiss wasn’t choreographed; it was all emotion. Their teeth clashed a few times.
“I’m sorry,” he gasped. “I’ll stop.” But his mouth tugged at her lips, and then his tongue delved inside again. One of his hands slid beneath her bonnet, and he threaded his fingers between the loose strands of her hair. His other hand splayed low on her back. A growl vibrated against her.
She’d never felt so beautiful, so absolutely necessary to a person in her life. A moan escaped her parted lips.
“Not be hasty,” he mumbled into her neck. His lips trailed around her jaw, her throat. “I’m sorry.”
“Not sorry,” she whispered. He had nothing to apologize for. Her heart bled at the thought of losing this man.
He stilled after a moment, his lips no longer searching, but his breaths ragged. “I shouldn’t have. I don’t want you to believe—”
“Hush.” She squeezed him tighter again, and in doing so, became acutely aware of his desire.
“I’ll find a way.” His promise. His faith. He was nothing like St. John had been. She’d been a fool to fall for the marquess’s falsehoods. All last year, she’d experienced guilt over breaking the unpardonable sin. Guilt and fear. She’d berated herself for giving in to St. John’s seduction. She’d worried that she’d murdered a man, although she hadn’t felt tremendous remorse.
What kind of a person did that make her?
For the first time, she felt a genuine sense of regret. She regretted that she did not have her innocence to give to Justin. Remorse that she wasn’t a better woman. He deserved somebody who would ease his troubles, not bring him more.
