Seduced by the Scoundrel (Danger and Desire 2)

‘No!’

‘Really? Are you certain? You say you were unconscious.’

‘I would be able to tell. And besides, he is not that kind of man.’ She tried to keep the passion out of her voice, offer an objective assessment, but she was not at all sure she succeeded.

‘Did he take liberties of any kind?’

‘He kissed me. I slept in his bed.’ There, she had said it.

‘In his bed?’ Everything about Bradon’s rounded features sharpened as though he had suddenly come into focus. ‘In his bed?’

‘It was that or sleep outside with the men who were a rough crew sleeping in makeshift shelters.’

‘And you kissed him. Did you enjoy it?’ He was coolly objective again.

‘I have nothing to compare it with. I am a virgin, my lord.’ And I am blushing like a peony and ready to sink. It was so much worse than she had expected, even though he was so calm and dispassionate. Perhaps because of that. Why was he showing no emotion?

‘So you say.’

Averil found she was on her feet. ‘I give you my word! Why

on earth should I tell you this if it was not out of a desire to be honest with my betrothed?’

‘Because you fear you may be with child, of course.’ He steepled his fingers and regarded her over the top of them.

‘With child?’ For a moment it did not make sense. What was he talking about? She could not be pregnant because Luc had not … Then the anger came. He did not believe her. ‘It would have to be an immaculate conception then, my lord.’

‘Do not blaspheme!’ Finally, some emotion.

‘I am not lying. I am not pregnant because it is impossible that I should be.’

‘Indeed, I hope you are telling me the truth. I will not tolerate a lying wife.’

He was going to throw her out. Something very like relief flooded through her. Averil shook her head. Relief? This was a catastrophe. ‘I understand that given the possibilities for scandal you would wish to reconsider the marriage contract. But it was a secret mission, you may rely on nothing of my presence coming out. The Governor gave his assurances that he would say nothing.’

‘How you do run on, my dear.’ Bradon brought his hands palm down on to the desktop and studied her. ‘I did not seek to marry you for your virginity, when all is said and done. We will simply wait and see for a month.’

‘Wait? And if I am not with child, you marry me?’

‘It seems prudent, would you not say?’

It seemed incredibly cold-blooded. Averil struggled to say so, with tact. ‘You do not trust my word or you would not insist on this stratagem. Does it not concern you that I might have lied to you, that I am not a virgin, but I have escaped becoming pregnant? Is such suspicion any basis for marriage?’

‘How very innocent you are, my dear—about life, if not in other ways. I am marrying you for the benefits of your very substantial dowry. My father is expensive, I fear. You are marrying me for a title and status. You appear to be a handsome young woman of good address and refined manner, as I was led to believe. What has changed? Has your dowry gone down with the ship?’

‘No. Of course not.’ So this was how it would be: polite cynicism. He would accept her because he would discover soon enough that she was not pregnant whether he believed it at this moment or not. She must accept him because he had given her no reason not to. He had not struck her or rejected her. He had not even raised his voice to her. She felt more cold than when Luc had carried her from the sea. This man simply did not care about her at all.

‘Will it not appear odd that the marriage is delayed?’ She tried to match his tone.

‘Why, no. No one of any significance knows of it, after all. You are visiting us, we will introduce you into society. After a month I may—or may not—marry you. There will be no expectations, so no gossip, no unpleasant rumours.’

‘How civilised,’ Averil murmured and he looked pleased, although she did not know how he hoped to keep it a secret. Dita knew. Alistair Lyndon and Callum Chatterton knew. Her chaperon knew. She had made no secret of her reason for travelling to England when she had been on the ship. But something held her back from saying so.

Then she realised why. She welcomed this breathing space. It took little mental effort to calculate that she had three weeks’ grace before her mother-in-law knew she was not with child; there was no possibility of hiding such things from the female servants.

‘There are some practical matters,’ she said. ‘I require clothing and I owe Sir George Gordon for my travel here.’

‘I assume your father made arrangements with his agents here for you to draw on funds?’