“I cannot believe you are so insistent about making amends for compromising me,” she said weakly. “You don't give a fig about what society thinks about you-you never have.”
“But I care what is thought about you. And I mean to protect you by making you my viscountess. You will be ruined otherwise.”
“I could always move to the Continent and enter a convent,” Eleanor muttered.
His quick smile indicated how absurd he considered her threat. “You are wholly unsuited for the existence of a nun, Elle. A woman with your passion, your hunger for life, shouldn't be locked away beyond the walls of a convent. We just proved that this morning.”
When she stood there regarding him in dismay, Damon stepped closer. Reaching up, he curved his strong fingers gently about her cheek. “You could be carrying my child. Have you thought of that?”
Eleanor's hand stole to her abdomen. No, she hadn't thought of it, although she should have.
“We don't love each other,” she repeated, grasping at straws.
“That makes no difference, Elle.”
“It makes a difference that you are a rake.”
Damon held her gaze. “I told you, I will be faithful to our marriage vows, even if I cannot love you.”
Pain stabbed her anew at his assertion, yet Eleanor was determined to conceal it. “You also said you would remain celibate until I agreed to wed you, but you broke your vow in less than three days.”
Damon's lips curved. “I don't believe that counts since I broke it with you.”
“The point is,” she said hurriedly, ignoring the temptation of his smile, “that I don't trust you, Damon.”
His expression sobered at once while his dark eyes seemed to soften. “I know, Elle. But I promise you, I have renounced my wicked ways. And I will do my utmost never to hurt you.”
She couldn't believe him, yet she knew she was fighting a losing battle. She swallowed hard, trying to quell her panic as she repeated her objections. “There must be another way, Damon. I don't want to be forced to wed you simply because my reputation is in shreds.”
“You want to spare your aunt a scandal, though, don't you?”
That consideration trumped all of Eleanor's pro tests. “Yes, of course.” She owed her aunt immensely for opening her home to an orphaned girl. She couldn't repay Beatrix's kindness by miring her in scandal.
r />
“Then there should be no question as to your decision,” he pointed out.
While she stood there debating with herself, Damon closed the final distance between them. Without warning, he drew Eleanor into his arms, yet there was no passion in his embrace. He was offering her comfort instead.
“I know this is not what you wanted, Eleanor,” he said softly, “but we have no choice.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. His caressing voice had the power to daze and enchant her, but his tenderness made her want to cry. It wasn't fair that Damon made her heart melt with his tender concern.
Pressing her face into the warm curve of his shoulder, Eleanor gave a sigh of despair. “I suppose not.”
He drew back slightly to regard her, although he kept his arms wrapped around her in a loose embrace. “Cheer up, sweetheart.” His deep gaze became a dare. “If you had the courage to face the possibility of death in a balloon without flinching, you can face the prospect of marrying me.”
Watching the uncertain emotion flickering in her vivid blue eyes, Damon knew the moment that she accepted the inevitable. He let out the breath he hadn't known he was holding.
“Will you tell your aunt, or shall I?” he asked.
“I will do it,” Eleanor said with another heavy sigh.
He held her lithe body against him for a moment longer, then released her and stepped back. “I will get word to you as soon as I can secure a special license. And I will send Lady Beldon in to you on my way out. I suspect she is waiting anxiously to hear your verdict.”
Lady Beldon was indeed hovering anxiously in the corridor when Damon exited the parlor.
“Your niece would like to speak with you, my lady,” he informed her before bowing and making for the front door.