“Then you must think ill of me for wanting—nay, asking—you to bed me.”
He shook his head.The thought had never occurred to him.“It is different for a man.”
“Oh, is it?”she said archly.
“My father.He had many by-blows.He was careless.With his children and their mothers.He didn’t care what havoc his pleasure wrought on others.He would seduce women and leave them to the consequences.”
Her ironic expression went poignant.“And you don’t want to be like him?”
“I always promised myself I wouldn’t be.”
He hadn’t meant to tell her all of this.He had hardly spoken to anyone about such things.Only his siblings, and even then, just a little.It wasn’t that his siblings wouldn’t respect his sentiments, but he also knew that several of them chafed against restricting their own actions on account of a man who had already done them so much harm.It was why he didn’t judge Severn or Beatrice for their more libertine behaviors.For them, it was too much to deny themselves on top of having had a father who had already made them suffer plenty.
“I look just like him,” he found himself saying, by way of explanation.“Or nearly.It has perhaps given me a horror of repeating his mistakes.”
“But you haven’t,” she said.“What is your age?”
“I am two-and-thirty,” he said, shifting on the bed next to her, suddenly feeling too old for her.
“You’re two-and-thirty and you’ve never done anything of the sort.You have been upright and honorable.Your father was wrong because he took advantage of women and did not care if they were hurt by his relationships with them.And you are not taking advantage of me.”
He frowned.“Am I not?”
“No.I’ve nearly begged you to ruin me, if you recall.”
She smiled up at him.He felt something in his chest loosen.It did help to discuss it with her.Even though honor hadn’t been his principal reason for hesitating at her offer, he was worried about hurting her.
“I never want to harm you, Scarlett.”
“You aren’t.You wouldn’t.”
He desperately hoped she was right.
Her brow furrowed.“But then why do you plan to never marry?Marriage would be a rather elegant solution, given your distaste for sordid attachments.”
He hadn’t meant to discussthiswith her either.It wasn’t a topic he had spoken of to anyone.Whereas he might speak to his siblings about his father, he had never explained to them why he was disinclined to marry, try though they might to raise the topic with him.Beatrice had tried to worm his reasons out of him more times than he could count.But he had never wanted to talk about it with her.To hear all the ways she would try to contradict him when he knew the truth about himself.
“I am not suited to making a woman happy.”
She gave a laugh.It stung, and his face must have showed it, because she put her hand over her mouth.
“I am sorry—I just see so many ways you could make a woman happy.”
He shook his head.“Not as a husband.My nature is too taciturn.It is not easy for me to converse with others intimately or share my feelings.I am too gruff, too surly.My siblings tolerate me because we are bonded by such unique circumstances.But I could not ask a woman to put up with my ill temper.”
“You do not seem irredeemably ill-tempered to me.And we have spent much time together as of late.”
He shook his head.She didn’t understand.
“Youare different.You make me act differently than I ever have before.”
It was true, because he liked talking to her, even about these difficult, intimate topics.But even though he enjoyed speaking with her, he had begun to feel rather exposed.
“But I’ve resolved to ruin you, at your request,” he said.“And I have to say that I am quite looking forward to it.”
“Are you?”she said, giving him a little sidelong glance.
He laughed at her coquettish turn.He gloried in bringing out this playful side of her.
