Lila processed such information. “So, my father did not pay you to marry me?”
He was shaking his head. “He did not.” His answer came as a surprise. “I married you in order to pay off a debt. A debt incurred by my brother.”
For some reason, this information deflated Lila more than she would have imagined. Had her father paid him to marry her, then he would have had some choice in the matter.
Had the debt been his own, he would have still had some choice in the matter.
But he’d had no choice at all.
A gun might as well have been held to his head when he’d taken his wedding vows.
* * *
Vincent could seeshe’d been unsuspecting of the true nature of their marriage. Although she’d been partially right, he supposed there were, indeed, some differences.
She looked almost disappointed.
“I am even more of a burden than I had imagined.” Her sunny outlook seemed to have vanished and some of the light left her eyes. Vincent didn’t know why it mattered. He hadn’t expected his wife’s emotions to affect him much at all.
But…
“I needed to marry anyhow.” Which was true, of course. And she had satisfied him immensely the night before. He reached out a hand and touched her knee in a few soothing strokes. “You are as good as any other.”
Perhaps he ought to have phrased that differently.
“I mean—”
“No, I understand. It’s better than the last time. At least you did not marry a spinster to spite him.”
Vincent shifted in search of a more comfortable position. “Is this damn carriage hitting every rock and rut in all of England?”
She didn’t answer him, choosing instead to turn away and stare out the window. He felt like something of a jackass for speaking his mind so plainly.
“You mentioned you were betrothed before.” Quimbly had been upfront about this fact but hadn’t explained why she’d been jilted. It had worried Vincent at the time but now, having seen her, he couldn’t imagine why the man had done something so dishonorable as to cry off and leave a perfectly fine young woman to suffer the consequences.
Especially her. His cock stirred at the memory of the night before. He couldn’t remember ever getting so excited over any woman. Perhaps it was the novelty of having her for a wife…
“I’ve convinced myself that Blakely was more reluctant to take on my father as an in-law than he was to take me on as a wife,” she answered without turning around. “My former fiancé married another before breaking it off. There are rumors…” But then she shuttered her gaze. “Both of our fathers tried to force Lord Blakely to honor the betrothal but, rather than do so, he eloped with another woman.”
“Gretna?”
“Yes. I’ve never seen her, but my father says she’s hideous. Blakely is the heir to the Duke of Waters and, I’m told, chose to marry Miss Emily Goodnight, a bespectacled bluestocking, rather than be saddled with me.”
Vincent rubbed his chin. “Definitely the father-in-law.” He slid her a sideways glance, hoping to lift her spirits. “His loss is my gain.”
“Ha!” She turned skeptical eyes back on him, ignoring the window once again.
Ah, yes. “As of last evening, I’m quite pleased to find myself saddled with you.” He allowed his gaze to rove down her neck, to her chest and waist. The fingers on his hand that remained on her leg began gradually gathering the material of her skirt, edging it upward.
Her breath hitched.
“Is it wise?” She took a guess at his intent. “To do it again so soon?”
This gave him pause.
“Are you sore?” She hadn’t acted as though she was tender, but how was he to know?
She shook her head, eyes wide, but then answered, “A little.”
