Page 56 of A Wallflower to Win the Viscount

She smiled sadly to herself, trying to focus on all that had happened and not on what would never be.

When she’d first met Lucian it would have been ludicrous for her to imagine such a man would ever desire her, but he had. The magnificent Lucian Montclair had been so overcome with lust for her, the little wallflower no one had wanted during her Season, that he had made love to her and shown her the joys of physical intimacy. That was something she would always cherish.

And when she had first encountered him in his garden it would have been even more ludicrous to think that such a man would ask for her hand in marriage, but that too had happened. It was just unfortunate he did not love her. And it was because that requirement remained elusive that they would have to part.

Alice had said it was impossible to make someone love you, it just had to happen. His proposal proved it had not happened. There had been no talk of love, only of expectations, propriety and, worst of all, the demands of Society. Never of love.

If he really wanted to marry her, that was all it would have taken. He just had to say those three simple but very complicated words—I love you—and she would have been his.

Without that there could be no future for the two of them, and she was right to have turned him down and said goodbye.

Her gaze once again moved to the wall that separated them. Despite knowing it was all for the best, she was going to have to fight hard to adhere to that resolution.

Until he returned to America, which would hopefully be soon, she would have to keep her distance from him, if she was to avoid the danger of ignoring what her mind was telling her, giving in to what her body wanted and leaving her heart to suffer the consequences.

She smiled sadly at the irony. For the last week or so he had seemingly been avoiding her while she had been desperate to see him, convinced that if they spent time together, love might flourish. Now she was the one who wanted to avoid seeing him because she could not bear the thought of him making yet another insulting proposal and confirming love had not flourished in his heart and never would.

A small meow drew her attention to the nearby chair. Clawdia had appeared from somewhere and was now sitting at her feet, staring up at her.

She reached down and patted the cat’s head. ‘You’ll miss him too, won’t you, sweetheart? But we’re going to have to just get on with our lives, knowing that we did a silly thing and fell for a man who didn’t love either of us in return.’

Chapter Nineteen

Lucian returned home, a defeated and dejected man. He knew she was wrong, but he would abide by her decision. After all, he had no choice but to do so. He couldn’t exactly drag her up the aisle and force her to become his wife.

He entered the drawing room and collapsed into the nearest chair, hardly able to believe any of what had happened but knowing the weight of guilt was all but crushing him.

One thing he did know for certain. He had transgressed. There was nothing he could do about that now. But he would never do so again.

He wasn’t deluded enough to think such a vow would be easy to keep. After all, he’d made it before, and it had not stopped him from succumbing, and his desire for Primrose was even more fierce now than it had been before they made love.

His head sank into his hands. If she had only said yes to his marriage proposal, all this agony could be put behind him. Right now, he should be seeing his solicitor so the man could acquire a special licence. They would be married immediately, and he could have her in his bed, every night for the rest of their lives.

How could she not want that? Their lovemaking had been nothing short of spectacular, as if they were meant to be together. The way she had responded to his touch, the way her body had writhed with pleasure beneath him, the way her shuddering climax had clenched around his body when he was deep inside her was all proof that she too had given in to a primal need for him. Just as he had for her.

That was all real and not some fantasy he had concocted out of his desire for her. So why was she now pushing him away?

Because she had pushed him away. Her reasons might be unfathomable to him, but she presumably did have them, and he would have to accept that they would not be marrying. He gripped the roots of his hair, hoping the physical pain would replace the far-worse anguish he was feeling deep inside. It didn’t.

There was so much about what had happened that had left him bewildered, but one thing he knew for certain. He had to put as much distance as possible between himself and Primrose. To continue to live next door to her after what they had just experienced, knowing he would never taste her lips again, never hold her divine body, never experience the exquisite pleasure of making love to her, would be unbearable.

He stood up and called the footman to ready his carriage, pleased that he had chosen action over brooding alone in his father’s house.

Once the carriage arrived he gave the driver instructions to take him to his solicitor’s office where, instead of arranging for a special marriage licence, he instructed the man to begin proceedings so his house could be transferred over to the charity and gave him a contact address in America where any paperwork that needed his signature could be sent.

Once that was done, he travelled to the shipping-line offices and booked a one-way passage back to America.

If he could have left immediately, he would have done so. He would have walked straight up the gangplank and sailed away, leaving everything behind him, but he could not do that. She’d said that within the week she would know whether or not she was with child. If she was, then their fate would be sealed, no matter what arguments she put up against their marriage. He refused to become any more like his father than he already was.

If she was not, then he would be free to leave. He was stuck for a week. But it was only one week. He hated to think he was such a poor excuse of a man that he could not control himself for one short week. Then he would be gone. Away from his father’s house, away from Primrose, and hopefully away from the gnawing guilt and shame possessing him.

Once back at the house he instructed the servants to begin packing his bags, so he could continue to maintain the sense that he was taking command of the situation and his departure was imminent.

That done, he returned to the drawing room and looked around with a grim satisfaction. Soon he would depart and would never have to see this cursed house ever again.

He looked out at the garden, the place where he had first seen Primrose. How could he possibly have known on that day how that singular young woman would soon turn his world upside down?

If he’d known then what he knew now, he would never have approached her. He would have told one of the servants to deal with the situation of the trespasser and the goose. Then he would not be in this wretched predicament.