How to Marry a Marquess (Wedded by Scandal 3)

“I do not believe in the idiocy of love, Evie, so I am not constrained by its boundaries. I have lovers.”

“Surely your wife will expect…”

“I have no expectation that my wife will be faithful, either.” His voice was threaded with steel. “I am certain you would be miserable in such a union, don’t you agree? How long would it be before we turn on each other with our anger and bitterness? And for what would we have ruined our unmatched friendship?”

Evie’s throat closed. How silly of her. Only a few wives in the ton had expectations of faithfulness. Men with mistresses and ladies with discreet lovers were frequent and even normal. “I cannot beli

eve it of you.”

She poured wine into a glass with hands that trembled. Not once had the thought crossed her mind. He would keep a mistress, several even, because he had no intention to love and honor his wife.

Her composure had been rattled, her belief in his honor shaken, and she struggled for equanimity, centering her thoughts on his expectation of a wife. “You’ve adopted all the children? That is what Emily meant when she said they were her brothers and sisters? They are not your…not your…”

“My other bastards?” A rough laugh issued from him. “No, I am not that much of a degenerate.”

She drew in a hard, deep breath as she looked away from his probing regard. “And you would expect your wife…to claim them as her own, despite their dubious connections and bloodlines, and the fact they will never be a part of…well, a part of her…your…blast it.”

A mocking glint entered his eyes. “I see you comprehend my reasoning.”

Evie stared at him helplessly. If he ever attempted to seek better positions for them, they would be the object of scorn and unceasing gossips. Knowing Richard, he would not be content with growing them to be mediocre in any respect, and dear heavens, the ton would crucify him for daring to elevate those so evidently below them in wealth, circumstance, and reputation. The children had no distinction of birth to recommend them. They would be treated with such incivility. His wealth and privilege of rank somewhat protected Richard even with his notorious deeds, but would that security extend to his daughter and the other children? “I believe your wife would be willing to compromise.”

His lips curved into a hard smile. “When it comes to my children there will be no compromise.”

“Surely—”

“None,” he said flatly, his countenance suddenly hard and unforgiving.

Her heart stammered. After a few beats of silence that seemed to drag on forever, she slid her hand across the blanket and skimmed her fingers over his knuckles, never taking her eyes from his. “I would stand by you,” she said softly, burying the unease that flared to life with her promise.

He leaned in, effortlessly tugging her to him. Their lips were distressingly close. Then she felt the heat of his lips. It was barely a whisper of touch, a light brush of his mouth against hers.

“Unreservedly, Evie? Would you walk freely with them in Hyde Park? Take them to the gardens and museums?”

She was without an assurance, nor could she speak to him of a compromise in the form of a gradual introductions, and she hated that.

“I can see the fear in your eyes, Evie, the uncertainty wrought from your thoughtless promise. I would not hold you to such a pledge.”

With a soft gasp, she withdrew from him, despising there was truth in his assessment. Though there were merits in his concerns, she knew her heart. Somehow, she would eventually find a way to make everyone happy. If only he believed such a thing possible.

Did he truly have any intention to marry…ever? The realization struck her forcibly. He may never take the final step to a wedded state, and she finally understood his delay in offering for lady Honoria or anyone else. Unaccountably her assessment was pleasing.

“I must go, it is getting quite late.”

He watched her carefully. “Emily is quite eager to have you dine with us.”

Evie glanced down at her stained dress and ruined stockings.

“We do not stand much on formality here.”

“I assure you I will not be down to dinner looking bedraggled, but I shall not disappoint Emily. If you send off a letter for me to Adel with urgency, I will request one of my gowns to be sent down with haste.”

Relief, approval, and something far warmer burned in the depths of his devilish eyes. It should have made Evie unaccountably wary, for it was quite evident he truly had no intention of ever marrying any time soon. Her continued presence at his home after such a revelation without a chaperone left her wide open to being ravished.

The notion should have petrified her; instead, she could feel the erotic charge emanating from him. She wanted to explore his desires at least once before she was compelled to return to her dutiful cage again—more balls and routs, perhaps another season, and then to get on with selecting a beau with wealth and bloodlines. Unless seducing his body was the pièce de résistance in her efforts to secure his hand. Perhaps it was time she played the scoundrel.

Oh, my foolish, foolish and stubborn heart.

…