Cam couldn’t argue that point. Lord Carlisle gave his sisters an unusual degree of latitude. “You wouldn’t be mocked as a spinster.”
She tossed her head. “Do you suppose a lady who’s refused a marquess cares for the opinion of theton? They mock me even now. I’m Lady Frost, remember? Why, I have my own special section in the betting book at White’s—wager after wager, all concerning my affections and marriage prospects.”
Cam’s jaw clenched. He’d put a stop to that at once. He’d not have every sotted nobleman in London wagering on his wife.
“You should make a wager yourself,” she added. “Just think, if you can bring me to heel, you stand to gain a fortune.”
Cam stiffened, but he ignored her comment. “If you truly want freedom, you should marry. A married woman has, ah, certain opportunities forbidden to maidens.”
Her cheeks flushed. “What, you mean to take lovers?”
That was what he meant. He imagined another man kissing her, touching her, his fingers trailing across that fine, pale skin . . .
Then he imagined himself breaking the man’s fingers. One by one.
In time his fierce possessiveness would fade, though. Of course it would. Once he’d had his fill of her. “Yes.” He had to force the words through gritted teeth. “Have you ever had a lover, Eleanor?”
She stared at him, shocked. “No. Of course not.”
“Ah.” He drew closer to her and lowered his voice. “You don’t need to be in love to experience the pleasures of the flesh, and those pleasures can be . . . tremendously gratifying.”
She stared at him as if transfixed, then cleared her throat. “Those pleasures . . . ah, I—that is, I imagine you’d wish to avail yourself of them?”
Cam’s groin went tight. “Immediately, often, and for as long as we both agree to indulge. You’ll be my wife, after all, and there is the matter of consummation.”
She seemed to consider that. “And once we agree we don’t care to indulge anymore? In each other, that is. You will take a mistress, and I will take a lover?”
“Yes.” He managed to choke the word out past the fury clawing at his throat.
She nodded, and hope took flight in Cam’s chest. He’d have her no matter what, but he’d rather have her willing.
“You haven’t mentioned anything about the consequences of these pleasures,” she said. “What of that matter?”
“What, you mean children?” Cam paused, aware he was in dangerous territory. He’d given some thought to children, of course, but he hadn’t come to any decision. “I haven’t a title to pass on, and I have Amelia.”
Her face paled. “Ah. So you don’t want them?”
“I didn’t say that. I only meant I don’t require them—”
Her voice came like the crack of a whip. “And if I shouldrequire them, Camden? Or, heaven forbid, if they should appear, regardless of your requirements? That does tend to happen when two people engage in pleasure,immediately, and often.”
“We can negotiate for children, Eleanor. If you truly wish for them, you’ll have them.”
“Negotiate. How generous of you, and yet what I truly wish is for my children to have the care and attention of a loving father. You can’t offer me that.”
He opened his mouth to contradict her. To argue. To lie. But the words wouldn’t come, and they lapsed into a tense silence.
Julian had tried to warn him. Cam hadn’t listened. Hadn’t cared.
Eleanor Sutherland’s freedom for Amelia’s.
Parity. It had seemed a fair trade at the time.
But that was beforeEllie—before the reality of her. The truth of her, and not the illusion he’d created. That was before he understood just how much he’d be taking from her.
Cam tried to push the thought away, but something inside him kicked up in protest—his conscience, perhaps.
Or his heart.
