Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Rowan stood by the fireplace in the Fairchild drawing room, his gaze sweeping over the gilded moldings and the tasteful portraits of Fairchild ancestors.
He felt like a wolf in a sheep’s pen, and he shifted uncomfortably, wondering for the hundredth time what the hell he was doing.
This wasn’t his problem. His reputation could withstand the Brazen Belle’s silly article.
But Miss Tamsin Fairchild’s absolutely could not.
The door opened, and Miss Tamsin entered. She was dressed in a prim pink gown, buttoned to the chin as if she were a nun, yet his mind stubbornly recalled the way she had looked in the shadows—wild, watchful, and strangely alive.
“Good afternoon, my lord,” she said softly, closing the door but lingering in front of it, as though she might need to make a quick escape. Her voice was gentle and melodious. He liked it.
“Miss Tamsin.” Rowan didn’t move from his position at the hearth.
He also found it prudent to keep the room between them until he knew exactly how she felt about the prospect of marrying him.
Was she playing some sort of game, or was she really as blameless in this whole fiasco as she seemed?
“I assume your brother has informed you of our... arrangement?”
“He has.” She clasped her hands in front of her and stared down at them, refusing to meet his gaze. He wished she would look at him. He wanted to see if he’d imagined that little spark of connection that had flared between them last night.
So demure. He found himself wanting to get a rise out of her.
Somehow, he had to assure himself that this prim miss was the same siren he’d glimpsed before.
He stepped forward, his boots silent on the thick Persian rug.
“Let us speak plainly. I am curious how the Brazen Belle managed to identify you so precisely in the dark. It is almost as if she were invited to the performance.”
Tamsin’s chin lifted, and when her startling blue eyes finally met his, he could tell she was incensed by the very notion.
Those blue depths were aflame with ire. “Are you accusing me of orchestrating my own ruin, my lord? I can assure you, if I were to choose a husband for such a scheme, it would not be a man whose reputation is as tattered as yours.”
There it is.
“Then why were you there?” he asked, needing to understand. “No lady of the ton wanders the Dark Walks alone at midnight. Not unless she is looking for trouble. Do you know the Belle? Are you her informant? Or perhaps the lady herself?”
“I went to the Dark Walks for reasons that are my own, and they have nothing to do with gossip or with you,” she replied, her gaze never wavering.
“And as for the Belle, I despise her as much as I’m certain you do.
She should never have printed such rubbish without knowing for certain that what she claimed was true! ”
Rowan studied her. She was being evasive, but he had no idea why. He wanted to shake the truth out of her—or kiss it out. “Do you want to marry me, Miss Tamsin? How do you feel about being tied to someone like me for the rest of your days?”
She finally dropped her gaze, twisting her hands together as she thought about her answer. He appreciated that. This was a weighty matter and not one to be entered into lightly.
“I cannot fathom how a marriage between us can possibly make either of us happy,” she replied simply. “And I am very sorry that you have been pulled into this. None of this is your fault, and I would understand if you wanted to back out. I will do my best to smooth things over with my brother.”
Her answer surprised him. He’d assumed she’d jump at this chance to save herself, not offer him a way out and take full responsibility for what had happened. In his experience, that was uncommon.
“Come,” he murmured, gesturing to a pair of chairs in front of the fireplace. “Sit and talk with me for a while before we make any hasty decisions.”
She nodded stiffly and crossed the room to take her place across from him. “Why did you agree to marry me?” she asked, once they were seated. “What did my brother say to you?”
He laughed softly. “I’m certain you can imagine. He first challenged me to a duel, but even though I find him a priggish bore, I don’t relish the idea of killing him. It was actually my idea that we should wed. It seemed like the only acceptable solution for everyone involved.”
“But this isn’t your problem,” she told him again, still twisting her hands together nervously. “You can just walk away. No one is at all surprised by the idea of you seducing a debutante in the Dark Walks. No one will cut you or shun you for that.”
The double standard struck him, for perhaps the first time in his life.
He truly had been involved in an act of debauchery last night, and Tamsin had just been passing by, yet she was the one who would suffer for it.
Because she was absolutely right: He could walk away if he so wished, and this situation would not only roll off him but perhaps even enhance his legend as a rake.
But somehow, her selfless insistence that he didn’t have to marry her made him actually want to. Had anyone in his entire life ever put his needs ahead of their own? If so, he couldn’t remember it.
He stared at her, wondering what it was about her that had enchanted him so utterly.
Her hair was the color of a raven’s wing, a deep, glossy black that made her pale, ivory skin appear almost luminous in the soft light streaming through the window.
Yet it was her eyes that truly commanded his attention—a piercing, crystalline blue.
With high, elegant cheekbones and a mouth that was perhaps a bit too prone to a defiant curve, she lacked the soft, rounded prettiness of the Season’s typical debutantes.
Instead, she possessed a striking, unique beauty that he couldn’t look away from.
For years now, he’d found himself watching her across crowded ballrooms, and she’d invaded his dreams more than once.
But she also seemed to possess a kindness that was foreign to him.
If he were ever going to wed and have heirs, it occurred to him that he could certainly do worse than this beautiful, kind woman.
She’d probably make a wonderful mother. His own had…
not been kind. The Countess of Haversham had never shown him a moment of affection.
“I don’t want to walk away,” he said at last, realizing he’d let the silence drag on too long. “If you are willing, I think we can come to an agreement that works for both of us.”
Her eyes flared in surprise. “I don’t understand. What do you have to gain from marrying me?”
Raking a hand through his hair, he finally looked away.
“I turned thirty this year. It’s time I settled down.
I have a responsibility to provide an heir.
” He didn’t tell her that the rakish pursuits he’d been engaged in had grown tiresome of late.
The late nights, drinking, gambling, and meaningless trysts with women whose names he couldn’t remember the next day had failed to fill the emptiness growing inside him. He’d found himself incredibly… lonely.
“What would make this arrangement acceptable for you?” he asked, a bit apprehensive about her answer.
“No one has ever asked me what I wanted before,” she said, and for the first time since she’d walked into the room, some of the tension seemed to leave her voice.
“Unfortunately, what I have always wanted is a marriage like my parents had. A love match.” She paused, and when he looked back at her, she blinked away a sheen of tears.
“I wanted someone who shared some of my interests. Someone who would enjoy a quiet night reading by the fire.” She cleared her throat.
“I had hoped for someone who would be faithful to me.”
The way she said that last bit made it clear she thought it an impossible thing to ask of him.
But was it? Could he be faithful to her?
His latest conquests had mostly been made out of boredom.
If she were willing to make this a marriage in truth…
If she’d give him just a taste of that passionate fire he’d seen in her eyes last night…
Perhaps I could be faithful.
“Well, we don’t really know each other, so I can’t help you with the love match part.
But I don’t think any of the rest of it is unreasonable,” he told her cautiously.
He didn’t want to make any promises. But he could try.
He found that he really wanted to try. It would be diverting, to say the least.
A look of surprise flashed through those expressive eyes. “You would be faithful to me?” she asked, obviously thinking she needed to make some clarification, that he hadn’t understood her demands.
“Will you let me exercise my husbandly rights?” he countered. “I want this to be a marriage in truth.”
She swallowed thickly, and this time, it was she who looked away. A deep blush stained her delicate features, and he wondered if she was thinking about what she’d witnessed last night. Had it excited her? The mere thought made him shift uncomfortably.
“If we did marry... I would want that as well,” she said at last.
Perhaps he hadn’t imagined that spark between them after all. But he had to make sure.
He pushed to his feet, then held out his hand.
She stared at it for a moment, then bit her lip and placed her gloved hand in his.
He tugged until she stood, gazing up at him in confusion.
She was a tiny thing, barely reaching his shoulder, but she had rather voluptuous curves for her small stature.
Her scent, a blend of lavender and vanilla, sent further arousal racing through him.
“May I kiss you, Miss Tamsin?” he asked hoarsely. “I want to see if… we would be compatible in the bedroom.”
Her rosy lips parted in a wordless sound of surprise, but then she gave a hesitant nod.
Elation surged within him, and he cupped her face gently, staring down at her, his heart racing as though this was his first kiss. Would it be hers? He liked the thought of that. He liked it very much.
Rowan leaned in, giving her plenty of time to retreat, but she remained still, her gaze fixed on his, her pulse fluttering visibly in the hollow of her throat.
He finally claimed her mouth in a gentle exploration, letting his lips dance chastely against the pillowy softness of hers.
Tamsin answered with a soft sigh that vibrated through his chest. She was obviously willing but untutored, and he didn’t want to overwhelm her or frighten her.
Instead, he simply let himself drown in her beautiful innocence.
His hand slid to the nape of her neck, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw with a tenderness that surprised him. He felt a sudden, protective warmth swell in his chest. This wasn’t the hollow thrill he was used to; this was something quite different.
He broke the kiss slowly, his forehead resting against hers. They were both breathing a little faster, the air between them charged. Arousal pulsed within them, but he would not press her further. He would wait until she was ready. He wanted to wait until she was ready.
“Well,” Rowan whispered, a genuine smile touching his lips. “I think that is a very promising start, Miss Tamsin.”
Tamsin looked at him, her blue eyes bright with a dawning hope that mirrored his own. “Yes,” she agreed softly, her voice shaky. “I believe it is.”
“Shall I go procure a special license?” he asked.
She closed her eyes briefly and then nodded.
He hated that she obviously felt forced into this, that the Belle had given her no other option, but he also realized fully that were it not for the Belle’s lies, he never would have found himself engaged to a woman like Tamsin.
He was well aware that he didn’t deserve her.
“Let’s set the wedding date for this Friday. I’ll be in touch later today to discuss everything in more detail with your brother.” He gave her a tentative smile and then turned to leave.
“Lord Haversham,” she called when he was almost to the door.
He paused with his hand on the knob, and a smile curved his lips. “If we’re to be wed, I think you must call me Rowan.”
“Rowan…” She met his gaze imploringly, but he was still reeling from the sound of his name on her lips for the very first time. “Please don’t do this if you don’t plan to give it your all.”
He forced a smile, hoping he could be the man she needed him to be and fearing he was not. “One thing you’ll learn about me, Tamsin. I don’t do anything halfway.”