Bex didn’t know her mother to be weak and so concerned about public opinion. “We are nothing alike, mother and I.”
“If you say so. Thou doest protest too much, Ester.”
“You would use Shakespeare against me? Though, with your voice, I’ll forgive you.”
He chuckled, something wicked and knowing. “What else can my voice do?”
Skin to skin, his fingers had slipped beneath her shawl and wound about her arm, sending a deep shiver through her. “What things do you want, other than for me to give up my principles and my rally-making.”
Biting her lip, she warred against the butterflies doubling inside. “I said it before. Your honesty and fidelity are the most important things.”
“What if an omission was for your protection?”
“No, that won’t do for me, Bex. I need to be able to trust you.”
“Miss Croome, no riddles. I’m not sure my brainbox is fully awake. You seem to be a smart lass, so this definitely isn’t fair, but since you are speaking of what you want, I need to know what type of marriage I should expect?”
Foot jittering, she righted the carriage’s rumble off the road. “What type of marriage is it you seek?”
He settled beside her, a little closer than before. From the heat of his breath on her cheek, he’d nestled near her ear. “I believe one with you, my dear.”
Ester wasn’t a little girl, so she couldn’t act like one. She’d leaped as she had through the window with everything at risk. “You’re wondering if I want a marriage purely of convenience or one of occasional affection?”
“Never occasional, my dear. I’m inclined to passionate relationships. Surely, you read that in the papers. That part was no lie.”
Cheeks fevering, she focused on the closest horse. “You are trying to set my face on fire, aren’t you?”
“Perhaps, but I need to know if Ester Croome is inclined to a passionate relationship. You could let a fellow down easy if you aren’t interested.”
There was no way she’d change her mind, but what did he mean? “You wouldn’t marry me, if I weren’t inclined?”
He tapped the soft, ticklish spot along her ribs. “It would make things more challenging, and of course, I would take great pleasure in changing your mind. There’s an attraction between us which cannot be denied.”
His chuckle was arrogant, and melodious, and deadly accurate. How could she not be attracted to someone she’d loved from a distance for two years?
“What? Miss Croome? No response?’
There were plenty of responses—her stomach was tense, her head was light. She’d jump out of her skin if his elbow tapped her again. “I’m not a couch woman, one of those wives waiting for a carousing husband to find his way home, hoping for a gift to make his lies better. Not me, not that type of relationship.”
A long sigh came from Bex. “Well, it seems a mistress or extramarital affairs have been ruled out. That would make our marriage very limiting, very dull, for a man of passion. What doyouwant, Ester Croome?”
“Boring isn’t what I want, either.”
His hand clasped hers. “Good answer. No one should want boring.”
“Mr. Bex, you know I’m infatuated with your stage presence. I’ve watched you in so many plays—the ones my friends and I could attend.”
“That is a profession. That’s not me.”
She nodded, not that he could see. “I know. I want to know you. The true you.”
“I could make a joke about biblically knowing, but I won’t. Your tone sounds too serious. My hope is that the true me is someone you like.”
“I pretend a great deal, particularly when I’m frightened. I hope you get to know me, Bex.”
“I like you, Ester Croome, but the question becomes: the more that you learn of the man as opposed to the actor, will you like what you see?”
“It’s dark, Bex, but I can still see your character. I like you, Arthur Bex, well enough now.”
