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Chapter 14

Dominic never liked those moments in the House of Lords when an opponent brought up a good point. In a perfect world, his would be the only valid arguments, and compromise would mean that he had squashed the opposition. In other words, they would agree to his logic, and he would generously concede something to assuage their loss.

Very occasionally, he was wrong.

“Stop standing so close to me,” Torie demanded. She put both hands on his chest and gave him a little push. “We have no need for a ‘test.’ I understand that you and I—”

Her voice broke off.

“You and I what?” he asked with interest.

Torie cleared her throat. “I wouldn’t vomit on our wedding night. Probably.”

Dominic had never stolen a kiss. In fact, he’d never contemplated such a breach of etiquette. When an unmarried lady tilted toward him with pursed lips, he looked around for the chaperone sure to erupt from a corner and scream about a compromised reputation. When married ladies did the same, he backed away, having an innate distaste for adultery, compounded over the years by his sister’s blithe disregard for marital vows.

He would have expected to enter Leonora’s darkened bedchamber on their wedding night, introduce her to marital intimacy, and hopefully leave before she lost her supper. Not that they had discussed it; he’d never bothered to imagine her response or lack thereof.

As he saw it, Torie’s promise not to vomit on their wedding night was practically an invitation.

He leaned in, quick as lightning, and brushed his lips over hers. How did he catch an impression of tart sweetness in a mere second? He felt the shock of that kiss. He went rock-hard, and his heart started up a wild drumbeat.

Torie shook her head. “What on earth are you doing?” she inquired. “You can’t run around kissing random women to make up for your mistakes with Leonora.”

“You are not random. You’re the woman I wish to marry.”

She sighed. “Look, if I put my mind to it, I can find you a bride within the month. Tell me the attributes you’re looking for, other than beauty and ostensible docility.”

Dominic swallowed back his frustration. “It wasn’t a list of attributes as much as a wish. Or two.”

“Such as?” Torie demanded, folding her arms over her chest, which plumped her breasts in an extremely desirable fashion. “I know I don’t meet your standards, but I always hope to learn from my failures.”

“It wasn’t a matter of success or failure!” he protested.

His conscience prickled to life. Was that the case? Didn’t he separate the wheat from the chaff by questions aimed at discovering whether he and the lady in question would be suitable for each other? Able to successfully converse over the breakfast table?

“I hoped that my future wife and I would have something to talk about in a few years,” he explained. “So many couples sit silently together, even after they’ve watched a play. It looks depressing.”

It looked, though he would never say so, like his parents’ marriage. Chilly silences had been the norm.

“I’ll give you that,” Torie said. “So ask me one of the questions with which you tested my sister for compatibility. Just so I understand,” she added.

“Did you see Molière’s Tartuffe?”

“The French play? Of course I did. Along with most of London, since it was the hit of the Season.”

The way her mouth turned down at the edges suggested she shared Leonora’s opinion of the performance.

“What did you think of it?” he asked.

She burst into laughter. “You chose your wife based on literary criticism? Leonora’s response to a revived French play?” Her eyes lit up. “You must have agreed with her. Which explains precisely why we would never get along, given our disagreements over the Odyssey.”

“I didn’t look for agreement.”

Torie nodded. “I think you missed the mark with Leonora. I don’t suppose you noticed her avoidance of idle chatter?”

“Too late,” Dominic admitted. He hadn’t let himself dwell on it, but he had been disconcerted by the way he and his fiancée would stand silently together, gazing over a ballroom of babbling guests. Still, she readily offered intelligent opinions if asked a direct question, and a gentleman never reconsidered a proposal of marriage once a lady had accepted it.

“My sister likely proved her intelligence by offering a sanguine comparison of the performance and original script. I’m sure she had read the play in French. She adores the language.”