Chapter Twenty-Five
The next day, Amityknew it would not be easy to tell Jeremy she’d had a change of heart, but at the very least, it would be a relief. Awakening to learn of the Duke of Pelham’s departure, her heart felt like solid stone in her chest, and she could think of no remedy. She could not marry Henry and throw away her passion for confectionery, nor give up working with her sisters.
She also could not marry Jeremy, not after experiencing such intense, heady desire in Henry’s arms. Jeremy deserved a woman who felt such passion for him, not one who would spend the rest of her life thinking of another man’s kiss.
Before breakfast, she invited Jeremy to walk with her. They made it as far as the field of wildflowers behind the house when she turned to him, not wanting to drag it out.
“I’m so sorry,” she began.
“But you cannot marry me,” Jeremy finished.
She lowered her head, hating to hurt him although she’d made her decision in the long, sleepless hours of the night.
“You are marrying the Duke of Pelham,” he concluded, “and I cannot compete with him.”
“You do not need to compete with His Grace, nor am I marrying him.”
“Then why?” he asked.
“I have searched my heart, and while I have affection for you, I am not in love with you,” she said as kindly as she could. She now understood true love, knowing it must be the reason for her ardent emotions whenever she was with Henry. And being with Jeremy was nothing like it.
His expression became perplexed. “The duke hasn’t asked you to marry him.” He cocked his head. “And yet you’re not marrying me ... because of love?”
She decided not to delve into Henry’s proposal or even confess there had been one as that was not Jeremy’s business.
“I am not confident you’re thinking lucidly,” he added. “Whole-hearted love is best reserved for a parent toward a child, don’t you think?”
Stunned at his assertion, Amity shook her head. “No, I do not.”
How had they never discussed this?She’d assumed and attributed to him a level of sentiment he might not actually have for her. “Surely you feel love for me if you wish to marry me.”
“I hold you in the utmost regard,” he explained. “I feel tenderness and affection. Your nature, face, and physique, they all please me tremendously. There is very little about you I would change. I also think you would be an excellent mother.”
“But you don’t love me?” she asked, frankly surprised.
“I suppose I do,” he confessed. “As much as any adult loves another.”
She stared at him. “Do you ever experience lightheadedness around me? Does your heart race at my approach?”
He opened his mouth, closed it, and finally confessed, “No.”
“When we kiss,” she persisted, knowing the topic was inappropriate, “do you feel hot inside, as if you were turning to liquid while your skin seems practically scorched?”
“Definitely not,” Jeremy said, his face growing a little red. “Whatever can you mean?”
“At my touch, do you feel overcome with wanting?” She laid a hand on his arm, feeling nothing herself.
“Wanting what?” he asked, staring at her as if she were slightly deranged.
“Wanting me, of course!”
“I look forward to sharing our marital bed if that’s what you mean.”
Amity shook her head, relieved beyond measure to have learned of his tepid nature. “But you don’t yearn for me.”
Jeremy shrugged.
