Lacing up her ankle boots, she ignored his impertinent question, although she knew the answer from her grand-mère.
Pépère’s stern face came into her thoughts. “My grandparents will be heartbroken if an Englishman steals me away as my father did my mother.”
“Unlikely. I surmise you were never planning on staying here forever. And you’re going home to England anyway.”
And then he asked the question she knew would follow?
“Why have you lived here so long anyway?”
Having just spent the night in his arms and given her innocence over to Malcolm — and rather easily, too — she was reluctant to tell him the reason for her exile. It would be hard protesting her innocence to a charge of societal misconduct when she’d behaved so wantonly in his arms.
“I misbehaved,” she said cautiously, reaching for her spencer.
“During a London Season, I would warrant.”
She turned on him. “How did you know?”
“You’re not the first young lady to do so. But I know better than anyone you still had your virtue intact, so you couldn’t have done anything terribly bad.”
“Just a few foolish moments out of sight of a chaperone and one particularly ill-timed walk in Vauxhall with a man who tried to take liberties,” she said. “My father banished me from my home for a supposed transgression that didn’t even end in a satisfying kiss.”
Malcolm’s eyebrows rose, and then he swallowed. “Lord Elmstead is a stern fellow, I take it. I shall have to watch myself around him after we marry.”
Rolling her eyes, Serena slipped her bonnet atop her head, and then thought better of it and yanked it off again. She drew a comb from her traveling bag and worked to untangle the snarls before she braided her hair and put it up in a bun. With water from the washstand, she smoothed any loose locks. Then she smacked her bonnet on, feeling presentable.
Inside, however, she felt wretched. On the one hand, she had wanted to give herself to this particular man, who had watched her comb her hair with thoughtful eyes before he’d quickly dressed. And she hadn’t been disappointed in her choice, eternally grateful she hadn’t thrown her virtue away before Vauxhall or since.
In fact, their coupling had been beyond anything she’d imagined. Malcolm had been so gentle and caring — and experienced and skilled!
Yet knowing how rakes behaved, if she married a true libertine, she would be a lonely, abandoned wife, and she couldn’t bear it.
“We arenotmarrying.”
“You might be carrying my child.”
She sat down heavily on the bed.Wasn’t the man supposed to take care of that type of thing to prevent it happening?
“Are you speaking in jest?”
“Of course not. That’s how these things work.” He didn’t look the least bothered.
In his breeches and shirt, his vest, jacket, and cravat in place, he crouched in front of her, placing a large hand on each of her knees.
“You didn’t know?”
“Not exactly, no.” She noticed his bemused expression. “Don’t you dare laugh at me, Monsieur Branley!”
“That’sLordBranley, actually, but to you, always, Malcolm.” Raising a hand, he traced his finger along her chin, and the tender touch caused tears to prick her eyes.
“Why did you do it? Why did you ruin me?” she asked.
Shaking his head, he stood up, drawing her to her feet.
“I have been considered a rake since my university days, and I have never minded the title or thought myself unfairly labeled. But in this case, I must gainsay you. I have not ruined you. To put it bluntly, I didn’t care whether I planted my seed in your womb —” Serena felt her cheeks grow warm at his words “— because I intended to marry you, a Parisian vintner’s granddaughter of unknown parentage. I’ve had the notion in my head for a while now, which is why I came racing after you from Paris. I assumed you felt the same way.”
She caught her breath when he drew her close, wrapping his arms around her.
“Felt how?” she asked.
