Chapter 10 #2
“I’m not jealous!” she protested, though her expression belied her words.
“I’m ... I’m refusing you because you don’t want a real marriage.
You want a business arrangement: I am to perform my duty by bearing you children without interfering in your life, and in exchange you’ll give me your name and pay for my gowns. ”
“And make love to you,” he added in a husky voice, determined to remind her of why this conversation had first come about.
She edged closer to the fireplace, the tips of her ears pinkening. “Yes. That, too. But anyone could serve that purpose for you. I merely happen to be convenient.”
“Believe me, if I were choosing a wife by convenience, you would not be on the list. The last thing I need is a loose-tongued newspaper writer sharing my bed!”
Her gaze shot back to him, a new comprehension shining in their depths. “So that’s your reason for proposing! You want to marry me so I won’t dig up the nasty secrets in your past and publish them in my column!”
“Oh, for God’s— You already agreed to keep quiet. Why on earth should I marry you merely to gain that?”
“Because you don’t trust me. If you did, you’d tell me the truth about Miss Greenaway.”
He ground his teeth in frustration. Damn the bloody female and her ideals!
Most men kept secrets from their wives—it was accepted, even expected.
But she wouldn’t allow it, oh, no. Not his self-righteous little troublemaker, with her unrealistic ideas about how men should behave in marriage!
He should have heeded his earlier warning that she’d never agree to marry him.
But no, he’d had to let his cock do his thinking.
Well, he’d proposed and made a fool of himself sufficiently. Now he should wash his hands of her, leave her to her suspicions. Could any woman be worth all this trouble?
He gazed at her angry stance, at the delicate hands planted on the choicest pair of hips this side of the Channel, at the expressive eyes flashing emerald.
Even haphazardly attired with pencils stuck through her hair, she’d been enticing, but now, wearing that excuse for a wrapper, she was irresistible.
He’d never seen a young woman so full of life, audacity, and a sensual promise shimmering from her in waves, especially when her temper was roused.
Yes, this woman was worth any trouble. And he began to see that convincing her to marry him would take more than one seductive interlude and some discussion.
All right, so he’d plan a more elaborate strategy. He hadn’t been a spy for nothing. And he still had a little time to be patient.
“Well?” she said, interrupting his thoughts. “You do understand, don’t you? I shan’t marry you, Ian, and nothing you say will change my decision.”
“You’ve made that perfectly clear,” he said in a neutral tone.
She eyed him with suspicion. “So you won’t pursue this any further?”
“No.” Not until I think of a suitable strategy for it, anyway, he told himself.
She seemed startled by his easy acquiescence. “And my refusal of your proposal won’t affect our agreement?”
“What agreement?”
“That I won’t write anything about you in my column, and you won’t expose me.”
He’d forgotten about that. Bloody hell, that was perfect! She was handing him his strategy on the proverbial platter! He could use her fear of exposure to his advantage.
Turning away, he clasped his hands together behind his back and strolled the room as if deep in thought.
“That’s a different matter entirely, isn’t it?
Thanks to the false insinuations in your most recent column, I now have the reputation of being a coward and a liar, which will make it difficult for me to find a wife.
In essence, you’ve ‘ruined’ me, yet you refuse to do the honorable thing and marry me. So why shouldn’t I expose you?”
“Don’t be absurd! I haven’t ‘ruined’ you—surely many women would marry you for your fortune and your title alone!”
Halting near the bed, he shrugged. “It’s not easy to find a wife when one has my reputation.
I’ve looked for two years.” She needn’t know that he’d been more particular than most, which was partly responsible for his current dilemma.
“In that time, the closest I’ve come to an actual engagement was with your friend Katherine, and you ended that with your revelations about my private life. ”
“Revelations that were true! It’s not my fault you have a mistress!”
“Even if Miss Greenaway were my mistress, which she isn’t,” he said evenly, “it was you who exposed my association with her, thus destroying my engagement. In the process, you drove Katherine to elope with a man who might very well be a fortune hunter. Your meddling cost me and your friend a great deal. Surely you’ll admit that. ”
She sniffed. “I admit only that I wrote what my conscience dictated.”
Sometimes he found her bloody self-righteousness almost amusing. “And in the second column? Did your conscience also dictate that you make baseless assumptions about my war career?”
Guilt suffused her face, as he’d known it would. “All right, I’ll admit that was badly done, and I regret it. I apologize for that bit of … of gossip.” She set her shoulders with stubborn determination. “But I can set the record straight in Lord X’s next col—”
“How? I assure you, Wellington won’t repeat his words to Gideon. No one in the government will acknowledge me. And if you present only rumor, that will make your readers doubt me more, not less. No, you’ve opened that Pandora’s box, and you’ll never be able to shut it.”
“What do you want from me? I can’t marry you, Ian!”
“Yet I still need a wife.” He rubbed his chin, casting her a speculative glance. “So why don’t you provide me with a replacement for yourself.”
Clearly, he’d startled her. “Whatever do you mean?”
“You know many young women, and you have the ear of society even without your column. I’m sure you could find me someone to marry.”
“Find you a wife?” The panic in her expression pleased him inordinately. “Don’t be ridiculous! I-I wouldn’t know who or how or—”
“Then you plan to leave me in this situation?”
“Yes. No! I-I mean—” She broke off, her eyes narrowing. “You act as if you must marry at once. But if you’ll only wait until the gossip dies down—”
“I can’t,” he bit out, then cursed himself when her brow knit in confusion.
“Why not?”
After years of spying, coming up with a plausible reason for his urgency took only a second’s thought, especially since it was almost true.
“Searching for a wife takes me away from my estate. I’ve spent two fruitless years on the endeavor; I can ill afford another.
” A sudden inspiration hit him. “And consider this—you spend a great deal of time at social events advancing your profession, while I spend the same time looking for a wife. It would make perfect sense for us to help each other in our endeavors.”
With a wary look, she folded her arms over her chest. “Each other? Exactly how would you help me?”
He raised an eyebrow. “By not exposing your real identity, of course.”
Alarm lit her features. “You mean if I don’t find you a wife, you’ll expose me?”
He suppressed a smile. “Let’s just say that your refusal to help me with my problem will encourage me to start a rumor or two about Lord X’s true identity. You could hardly blame me for that, given the ‘rumors’ you’ve divulged about me.”
Gliding away from the fireplace, she wandered to the dressing table. She braced her hands on the greenish wood surface and stared into the mirror as if to find answers in her reflection. His gut tightened at the sight. He didn’t like playing these games, but he saw no other way to secure her.
And secure her he would, no matter what stratagem he must use.
He’d have that waist-length hair scattered across a pillow and those hands clutching him close.
He’d have those honey-sweet lips and that lissome body, rampant with sensual secrets.
And yes, that bloody sharp mind of hers would be his, too.
He wanted it all. As soon as he could get it.
In the mirror, he saw her gaze shift to him, haunted, reluctant. Bitter. “To think that a few minutes ago, I called you a gentleman.”
The accusation stung, but not enough to change his mind. “Everyone makes mistakes,” he said softly. “And your mistake lies in underestimating me. I’m not a gentleman when it comes to getting what I want. You should have learned that by now.”
Folding her arms over her breasts like a Christian maid meeting the heathens, she faced him. “What if I do as I threatened before? Find out your secrets and print them?”
“Come now, Felicity, do you really want war between us? Over the mere possibility of helping with my hunt for a wife?” He stepped toward her.
“I’m not asking you to drag a woman into the church for me.
I merely want you to praise me to your unattached female friends, introduce me here and there, and try to negate the effects of your most recent column.
Surely you don’t think me undeserving of anyone simply because I don’t suit you. Am I so evil as all that?”
The starch went out of her posture. Bending her head, she fiddled with the lace ties of her wrapper. “N-No, of course not.”
He pressed his advantage. “Think of the opportunity this will afford you to make my life miserable. You can choose only sharp-tongued women or ugly women or even cruel women. In my current state of desperation, I’ll take nearly anyone you find me.”
Meeting his gaze, she said archly, “Somehow I doubt that.”
He smiled. “You know me so well. You see? You could be a great help to me.”
Her consternation at his words was so transparent, he marveled that she didn’t realize herself how unwilling she was to marry him off elsewhere. Stubborn woman. Her pride kept her from accepting him. And her jealousy, no matter what she protested.