"Because I cannot marry you."
"Yes, you can. What is more, you will." He looked so certain of himself she wanted to scream.
"How many times must I tell you? I will not marry. Besides, I would make you a terrible wife. Surely you must realize that."
"I disagree. You are all I could desire in a wife." She wanted to argue, but he went on, seemingly determined to convince her. "First, there is the passion between us, I have no wish to wed a woman who will shut me from her room once she has given me the required heir and a spare."
She chewed on her bottom lip. "There is that." She did want him, even now, but those feelings would fade with time.
They had to.
"There is also the fact that you care nothing for Society's opinion," he continued.
"So?"
"My wife will face a certain amount of ostracism."
She wrinkled her forehead. "Lady Boyle said your grandfather refused to allow you to be ignored by Society."
He turned away, his gaze fixed on the view of the sea out her portal window. "It is true that anyone who wishes to claim his acquaintance knows better than to neglect the social niceties toward my mother and myself, but that is all surface. The ton is very good at making its disapproval known without actually cutting someone."
Her heart constricted at the thought of what he had endured. "That's terrible."
"But true. Any female seen in my company is censured. It's not exactly tonnish behavior to be courted by a bastard, even if he is the grandson of a duke."
"Have you courted many women?" She hated the notion that Drake had wanted to marry someone else.
He turned to face her, his expression unreadable. "One."
Her stomach did a funny flip-flop. "Was she afraid of Society's disapproval if she married you?"
He shrugged. "She could not see herself married to a penniless bastard."
"You are illegitimate, not a bastard, and you aren't poor."
"I was then. I was only twenty at the time and my prospects were not promising."
"Did you love her?"
"I thought I did."
His anger earlier made sudden sense. "She's the one, isn't she?"
His dark gaze narrowed warily. "The one what?"
"The one who believed you were good enough to be her lover, but not her husband." She knew she was right when he broke eye contact and turned away again. She jumped up and went to him. Reaching up to lay her hand on his shoulder, she tugged at him. "What happened?"
"I may be a bastard, but I'm not a gossip. If you want the story, you'll have to ask my aunt."
She hastily stepped back, stung by the harsh rebuke in his voice. "I wasn't trying to gossip."
He turned to face her. "None of it matters now. I want to marry you."
"Because you want me in your bed and you think it doesn't matter to me what the ton will say if I marry you."
"Does it?"
She frowned. "Of course not."