Chapter 32
Jane was not surprised when she awoke the next day and found the Earl of Dragmore in her house. Spotting his gloves and riding crop left carelessly on the table in the foyer, Jane’s heart leapt. “Molly!”
The maid came running from the kitchen. “Good mornin’, mum. Feelin’ better?”
He was not in the parlor. “Quite, thank you. Where is Nicole? Where is the earl?”
“Out back.”
Swallowing, feeling heated, Jane hurried into the kitchen. She paused at the screened door leading to the back garden, opening it but not going through. An impossible sight greeted her.
The big earl dwarfed the little pink swing.
He looked positively silly sitting in it.
In fact, it was distinctly possible that he’d break it if he continued to use it.
He held Nicole in his arms, moving the swing back and forth with his muscular, breeches-clad legs.
Nicole wiggled and made noises and said a few words, including her favorite one—“Mama.”
Jane couldn’t help it. She smiled. Warmth stole through every fiber of her being. Worse, tears filled her eyes, blurring them. She was unbearably touched, and suddenly so ashamed for keeping father and daughter apart.
It was clear that he wasn’t taking her daughter from her. Was it possible that he would just ask to be able to visit as he willed?
She must have made a sound, for the earl looked up, saw her, and jumped to his feet. Nicole squealed in protest. The earl’s face had taken on that sunburned look. His gaze melded with Jane’s. “I was just giving her some air,” he said defensively. “She likes the swing.”
Jane carefully wiped the smile from her face. “Yes, she does,” she said levelly. But, God, her heart felt as if it would burst with nameless need. Politely she said, “Would you care to come in and share breakfast with us?”
He was startled. His eyes flashed silver, and then he came forward, Nicole wriggling like an imp in his arms.
Today he wasn’t angry and Jane wasn’t threatened.
She was very, very aware of the earl. Of his size—she had forgotten how tall he was.
Of his strength—she had forgotten how broad were his shoulders, how thick his legs.
Of his power— he filled up the tiny yard, and as he approached, his presence overwhelmed her.
She had forgotten how handsome he was. His silver eyes, the thick, slashed brows, the high, high cheekbones, the hard, square jaw and straight, flared nose.
He was a magnificent man. And he still ignored decorum.
His shirt was casually buttoned halfway.
His chest and the black hairs there were visible.
She noticed a sprinkling of gray ones as well.
His breeches had dirt on the knees—had he been playing with Nicole on the lawn?
And they were tight, as tight as she remembered, hugging his form, hugging everything.
She glanced at his groin before she could stop herself, and quickly turned to let him and Nicole pass inside.
Color had flooded her. And she was warm, so warm. God, she ached. She remembered, too perfectly, yesterday evening. His body, pinning hers to the wall. His strength, his power—his heat and hardness.
She still wanted him.
The realization was a shock.
Lips pressed together, Jane followed them into the cheery blue-and-white kitchen.
“Molly, the earl will be joining us.” She gestured for him to follow her to the dining room.
She would not meet his gaze. She took Nicole from his arms and set her in her baby chair.
Nicole laughed with happiness, clapping her plump hands. She loved to eat.
Jane sat in her customary place at the head of the small table, which sat eight. The earl awkwardly sat on her left, across from their daughter. Neither spoke. Jane fiddled with Nicole, talking with her, while the earl folded his muscular arms across his chest and watched impassively.
She couldn’t help the thought. It was as if they were man and wife. If only he had wanted to marry her …
He couldn’t help the thought. If she hadn’t left him, they would be married, and sitting here as man and wife right now …
Molly served them buttermilk pancakes with fresh berries and cream. Jane ignored her own plate to help her daughter eat. The earl finished his food, watching them constantly, the only conversation between mother and daughter. He shoved his plate away. “Eat,” he said to Jane. “I’ll do it.”
Jane froze, holding a spoonful of pancake to her daughter’s mouth. She did not look at the earl. “It’s all right, I’ll eat afterward.”
The earl got up, came around the table, wedged between them, and took the spoon from Jane’s hand. He smiled at Nicole. “Aren’t you hungry, darling?” he coaxed softly. “Open for Papa.”
The sound of his voice, the heat of his nearness, and the sight of him feeding their daughter assailed Jane with such powerful desire she couldn’t move or breathe.
Nicole laughed and the earl fed her a spoonful.
Jane looked at her plate. This was intolerable.
Would he ever speak to her in such a warm, low tone?
She toyed with her food. The earl continued to coax Nicole into eating rather than playing, and Nicole responded better to her father than she did to Jane or Molly or anyone else.
Finally the earl set the spoon down and looked at Jane.
“There’s something I would like to discuss with you when you’re finished.
” His tone was level and boded neither good nor bad will.
“I’m through,” Jane said, rising. “Molly! Please take Nicole.”
The earl walked into the parlor and Jane followed him, trying not to stare at his broad back and small hips and worse, lower. He reached behind her to shut the door. His stare was hard. “We’re going to get married, Jane.”
Jane couldn’t believe her ears.
“No objection? Good, this is better than I’d anticipated,” he said easily, still pinning her with his gaze. “We will be married next week, and you and Nicole will move into my London flat.”
Jane recovered. Her very first reaction was a primal elation, which was quickly swept away by rationality.
Jane was no longer naive, and did not even pause to think he was marrying her for any reason other than their daughter.
Did she want to be married to this man, who had broken her heart?
Who would marry her again out of duty? The answer was a resounding no.
But, logically, she considered Nicole and what was best for her. And knew the answer was still no, for the earl had been providing abundantly for her when he didn’t even know about his daughter, and he could certainly continue to do so. She grew angry. “No.”
“It wasn’t a proposal,” he said in a mocking tone. “I was telling you what we are doing.”
She gasped at his audacity. “You cannot force me to marry you! I have no wish to marry you—I have no need to marry you. I am not marrying you, and that is that.” She turned to go.
He reached over her shoulder and placed his palm flat on the door, preventing her from opening it, should she try. She did not. “Please remove your hand,” she said calmly, although she was beginning to perspire and tremble.
He turned her around, and she gasped again. “You have no choice. Look at the bright side, it will be best for Nicole.”
“Best for Nicole! What do you mean, I have no choice? I am telling you, I refuse to marry you.” She was shouting.
“Have you forgotten?” he said softly, so softly she had to strain to hear. He smiled. “I am your guardian, Jane, and you are under age. We are getting married next week.”
Understanding dawned. Horrified, Jane could only stare. He was going to marry her whether she liked it or not—she had no choice.
The earl had left. Jane sank down into a plush chaise, still shocked. She knew the earl well enough to know that if marrying her was within his power, and this was his desire, he would accomplish it no matter who objected, no matter the cost. She did not stand a chance.
Her head began to pound with the beginnings of a headache. She rubbed her temple, trying to think, trying to sort out her feelings and what must be done.
Only one fact was clear. He had broken her heart, bastard that he was.
And she wasn’t indifferent to him, not at all.
To the contrary, at the very least she was physically attracted to this man.
And she still suffered bouts of compassion for him.
To be married to him under these circumstances would be intolerable.
He would probably break her heart again.
She tried to hate him. She couldn’t, but she was angry, so very angry, and so damn frustrated …
There was one single bright spot to the entire rotten tangle. Nicole would have a father and would not grow up a bastard. Maybe this was for the best. But what about their relationship?
Suddenly Jane was swamped with the realization of just what marriage entailed—and she was terrified.
She would be his wife. Caring for Chad and Nicole, caring for his house, caring for him. An image of them in bed together assailed her. Shaking, she rose abruptly and went upstairs.
The earl had said he would come back tomorrow to see Nicole. Tomorrow was not soon enough.
Jane changed her clothes and was on her way to Tavistock Square. She was so determined and so preoccupied she did not have a smile for Thomas when he let her in and ushered her into the morning room to await the earl.
She paced. She was flushed, her blood pounding. Her fists were clenched tightly at her sides. When the door opened Jane whirled. The earl smiled. “So eager to see me that you couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”
“Eager? Not quite,” she said coolly. She marched to the door and slammed it behind him. He regarded her with interest.
“I realize that we are getting married no matter how strongly I object,” Jane said. “True?”
“True.” He watched her.
“We have not discussed the terms of the marriage.” He raised a brow.
“Firstly,” Jane said, “I am continuing my work. You will not interfere in my career. Is this understood?”
“You may have your goddamn career,” he said easily, but his eyes were diamond hard. “We will reside in London during the run of your performance. However, you will take a few months off between each performance to come to Dragmore and behave as a mother should.”
Her fists tightened. “Are you insinuating that I am lacking as a mother?”
“I am merely pointing out that Nicole is your first priority.”
“So far I have been the best of mothers, even while working full time.”
“It is impossible to be the best of mothers while working full time.” He smiled irritatingly with superior knowledge.
There was no point in banging her head against this wall. Jane fumed. “Are we agreed then? I perform until the run is finished, then return to Dragmore for two months?”
“Three.”
“Two!”
“Three. Do not test my generosity, Jane.”
“You are a bastard,” she hissed, meaning it.
He shrugged. “Next?”
“We shall have separate bedrooms.”
His expression did not change. He appeared unperturbed. “It’s the fashion.”
“No, you do not understand. You are not welcome in my bed. You will not touch me.”
He stared.
She smiled and it wasn’t pretty. “This is your idea. Therefore it will be only a marriage of convenience for Nicole’s sake. You may do what you will elsewhere, but do not bother me.”
He folded his arms. The smile was back, ugly and hard. There was no smile in his eyes. “Do you think I lust after you? You may have a child, Jane, but you’re still nineteen, and as far as I am concerned, barely out of pinafores.”
God, it hurt. She lifted her head high. “And you shall not interfere in my private life either.”
His arms fell, fists clenched, and he took a step forward. “Just what is your private life, Jane? Rather, who? Lindley?”
“It is none of your business,” she told him fiercely.
He eyed her with such revulsion she knew then that he did hate her. Fists still tight, he smiled meanly. “Fine. Enjoy your paramours. But I demand discretion. I will not have Nicole humiliated by a slut for a mother.”
“Nicole?” Jane scoffed, trying to ignore the pain his slander brought. “Or yourself?”
“Why would I be humiliated? To be humiliated I must care.” He stalked to the door, paused. “Any other considerations?”
Tears threatened to rise, and Jane willed them away. She would not cry now, not in front of him. “No.”
“Good.” With hard strides he left, thumping down the hall and out the front door, shouting for his coach.
Jane began to tremble. She moved to the window, saw him waiting rigidly for the carriage, and tears filled her eyes.
Bastard! He was selfish and ruthless and completely insensitive, and he certainly despised her.
But it was for the best. If he didn’t hate her so much, she would soften toward him and maybe come to love him again as they spent a lifetime together as man and wife.
God forbid! To love such a man could only bring heartbreak.
The dark burning fires that flamed so deeply within him came from a tortured soul, and she doubted they could ever be extinguished.
Jane turned away, pulling herself together. She was a survivor. If she had survived his rejection almost two years ago, she could survive this as well.