Page 52 of A Wallflower to Win the Viscount

‘I would never do that,’ he continued, taking her hands and lifting her up to her feet. ‘Despite what just happened, I will not be that sort of man. I will do what is expected of me, what I promised you I would do.’

Expected? He would marry her just because it was expected of him? Not because he wanted to. Not because he was in love with her.

‘Is that why you want to marry me? Because of what just happened?’ She pointed towards the floor where they had experienced what for her had been a loving act.

He looked at her as if confused by her question, which was surely an answer in itself.

‘If we hadn’t just made love, would you still want to marry me?’

He continued to frown, as if unsure what she was asking. He shook his head slightly, almost imperceivably, but it was not missed by Primrose.

‘That hardly matters now,’ he said.

It mattered. It mattered a great deal.

‘Primrose, why are we even discussing this? I promised I would marry you, and I will abide by my promise.’

‘I believe when it comes to marriage, it is expected that the man at least asks the woman for her hand.’

‘I believe I have already done that, but all right,’ he said with a teasing smile. ‘Primrose, will you marry me?’

He leant down to kiss her, but she quickly drew back.

‘No, I will not.’

Then, with as much dignity as she could summon, she turned, and on shaking legs, her head held high, she walked out of his study and returned home.

Chapter Eighteen

What the hell had just happened? Lucian stood in the middle of the room staring at the door through which Primrose had departed.

Words swirled around in his head, refusing to form themselves into coherent sentences, as he tried to grapple with her bizarre behaviour.

‘What on earth is she doing?’ he finally said to the empty room. They had to get married. He knew that. She, too, must know it. And she had already accepted his proposal. He’d been consumed with desire at the time, but he was still certain he’d heard her say yes when he’d told her he would marry her. In fact, now that his mind was starting to clear, he could recall her saying yes repeatedly. He would not have made love to her otherwise.

This had to be some sort of game, one to which he did not know the rules.

Still tucking his shirt into his trousers, he hurried out of the study and down the street towards her house.

He paused at the door, restraining himself from pounding on it with his fist and demanding entrance for a third time. Instead, he drew in a long, slow breath to calm himself down, then picked up the brass knocker and gave what he hoped would sound like a polite tap.

The door opened, but before the doorman could greet him, he lost any pretence of patience, pushed past him and all but ran down the hallway into her drawing room. The French doors were open, and he found her standing in the middle of the garden, staring into space and scratching the neck of the goat.

‘What on earth do you mean you won’t marry me? You have to marry me,’ he shouted as he rushed towards her, forgetting all about remaining calm.

She ceased scratching the goat’s neck and commenced throwing corn to the geese as if going about her usual activities and nothing about this situation was out of the ordinary. ‘I think I made myself perfectly clear. I will not be marrying you,’ she said without looking at him.

‘Primrose, you must see reason,’ he said, lowering his voice, even though they were alone in the garden. ‘We have to marry.’

‘Why?’ she said as the geese gathered around her.

‘Because…because…’ He came to a halt, shocked that such a thing needed to be spelt out.

She turned to face him, her mouth set in a firm line, and waited, as if she had asked a reasonable question.

‘Because I just took your virginity,’ he said, through gritted teeth.

‘Oh, that. You were welcome to it.’ She gave a strange, strangled little laugh and went back to feeding her animals.