She bristled, drawing herself erect, her heart-shaped face set in irritated lines. "I will accept your help, but you can forget dictating to me in this fashion."
"You like my aunt," he reminded her.
She eyed him warily. "Yes."
"She won't mind me staying as well," he explained.
She chewed on her bottom lip. "Won't the rest of the ton find it odd that I'm staying with your aunt?"
He shrugged. "It doesn't matter."
"Yes, it does. I'm not going to have you blaming me for damaging your reputation."
The accusation was so ludicrous, he laughed.
She glared at him. "Do not laugh at me, sir. I have every reason to be concerned. You believed that after making love, you were honor bound to propose and got angry when I said no. I won't have you saying that I misled you in this matter as well."
She was serious.
"I did not propose because of my honor."
"I heard your aunt, Drake. She believes your honor is at stake if you don't marry me just because you visited my room. I had not thought ahead when I seduced you. I did not realize that you would feel compelled to marry me afterward. I should have, but I was overcome with emotion." She looked away from him. "I'm not usually like that—emotional, I mean."
He didn't believe it for a minute. Everything she did was motivated by emotion and a fierce sense of loyalty that matched his own. Unable to withstand it any longer, he stood and went to her.
Cupping her shoulders, he forced her to meet his gaze. "I did not propose out of a sense of honor. I had already decided to marry you before we ever made love."
She stared at him, disbelief etched in every feature, her blue eyes filled with it.
He squeezed her shoulders. "I mean it, Thea."
"Why?"
The stark word hung between them and he was unsure how to answer. The why of it was something he had not considered. It had simply become inevitable and he had accepted it as such.
"You will make me an admirable wife."
Her soft pink lips twisted with derision. "Admirable? I cannot imagine how." Then her eyes widened and she looked at him with dawning wonder. "Are you saying that you love me?"
He released her shoulders and stepped back so quickly, he almost lost his balance.
Love? He had seen so-called love matches turn into screaming matches after the newness wore off. His father had promised undying love to his mother before getting her with child and abandoning her. Cicisbeos and rakes vowed their love for other men's wives. The ton was full of posturing dandies who spouted poetry about love while flitting from one lady to the next, their feelings as temporary as the beauty of the flowers they sent along with their vows of undying affection.
The only experience he had ever had with the emotion had been with Deirdre. She had said she loved him, but married someone richer and more suitable. He thought he had loved her, but had finally admitted that his pride was more bruised than his heart.
Did he love Thea?
He didn't know. He needed her, and in his m
ind that was bad enough.
When Drake didn't answer, Thea assumed she had made him uneasy with the question. Of course he didn't love her. She was a twenty-three-year-old spinster, too vocal in her opinions and unremarkable in appearance, for all that others said she looked exceedingly like her mother.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
He opened his mouth to speak, but she forestalled him by raising her hand. "It is better that you don't. Love me, that is."
"Why?" He looked perplexed, his dark brown eyes narrowed.