“I have no pride where you’re concerned, Jack,” she whispered, hiding her face against his shoulder.
Jack drew in a breath. “I’m profoundly glad of it, Althea.”
In the bedchamber, he carefully removed her flowery hat. “Pretty thing.” He aimed the veiled concoction at the padded chair near the fireplace. It sailed to land neatly on the cushion. Althea giggled.
He turned his attention to the clasps on her cloak. “You look lovely.” He slowly removed each item of her clothing, until she stood naked before him, a rival of Botticelli’s Venus. “Mmm. Better.”
He drew her slender body into his arms and laid her on the bed, then bent to kiss her, breathing in her delicate fragrance.
Althea pushed him back, a hand against his chest. She rolled over onto her front and cupped her chin, with one long, slim leg bent at the knee, toe daintily pointed. The halo of white-gold hair loosened and curled about her neck as she offered him an enticing smile. “Now youmust oblige me, sir. Begin with your coat, if you please.”
If ever he saw an angel, they must look very much like Althea. Perhaps not an angel, he amended, but a sprite. Angels weren’t known to be so naughty. With a grin, he shrugged off his coat.
Sometime later, as their breathing slowed, Althea leaned over to trace along the line of his jaw with her finger. “Would you consider marrying a twenty-six-year-old widow?”
He took her hand and kissed it. “If she were not the daughter of a marquess? In a heartbeat.”
She pulled her hand away and sat up, offering him a vision of cream, pink, and golden curves that would make a painter weep with joy. Frowning, she drew her knees up, blocking the beguiling view from his appreciative gaze, and wrapped her arms around her legs. She rested her chin on her knees. “Why must you be so concerned with ridiculous conventions?”
“Because, sweetheart, I was not born into the aristocracy like you.”
She shrugged her slim shoulders. “If I don’t care, why should you?”
“I don’t intend to subject you to the vicious gossip that would result from our union.”
“It would die down in time, especially when another scandal came to replace it.”
He rolled out of bed. “No, it wouldn’t.” Jack reached for his trousers and pulled them on. “My father’s wife has some vocal relatives. They jump on everything I do with absolute glee. They have done all my life, and now my father is gone, and there’s no hope of a bequest, they’ll be even worse.”
“They’d attack me?”
“No. Me. But by inference, you. You will never enjoy another Season.”
“Then we will spend our time in the country. I would like that.”
Jack threw his shirt over his head. He discovered his cravat on the floor, which was in a sorry state. “You say that now, but when youhave little option, it will not seem so attractive.” He came to sit on the bed. “And you may not be quite so pleased to have married me.”
She tapped him lightly on the chest. “You think I’m that shallow?”
He grinned and grabbed her wrist, feeling her rapid pulse beneath the soft skin. He had upset her. “Not a bit of it, Althea. You are a fascinating, intelligent woman. And I’m aware of how brave and strong you are.” He resisted declaring how much he loved her. There would be no coming back from that. “Shakespeare wrote of ‘star-crossed lovers’ and while I don’t believe our lives could be blighted like Romeo’s and Juliet’s, I don’t think we can hope to find happiness in marriage. Not unless the king decides to bestow a title on me, which is hardly likely.”
Althea huffed. She climbed out of bed and reached for her clothes. “Then we shall continue to be lovers.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Shall we?”
“If it’s what you want, Jack.”
“I want just to be with you. As long as my presence doesn’t cause any harm to you.”
“How would it?”
“I’m taking precautions, but one cannot be sure. What if you have a child, Althea?” he asked gently.
Her eyes clouded. “I doubt I can. I had a miscarriage early in my marriage. They said it was unlikely to happen.”
Jack gathered her to him and held her close, feeling her tremble. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He kissed her hair.
She drew away. He suspected there were tears in her eyes, but she lowered her head, tying her petticoats. “I’d best go. Maybe it is better that I don’t come here again.”
