He should have considered marriage from the very first kiss they had shared.
Once married, he would never have to curb his desires again. He could not seem to stay away from her anyway, and so marriage seemed the natural path to take. This quiet desire of hers drew him in as if she shouted his name. He wanted to give her the right to do that without anyone disapproving.
He traced her jaw with his fingertip. “So lovely.”
“So are you.” Her face turned red. “Handsome, I mean.”
“I’m pleased you think so.” He kissed her brow softly, and then peppered kisses to her sweet lips. “I must admit you make me feel young again.”
“I’ve never thought of you as old.” Gillian toyed with the buttons on his waistcoat and then reached up to trace the bump on his nose. “At what age did you break this?”
“Seventeen.” Seventeen and utterly controlled by lust in those days. He smiled. “I was found in a compromising position with my late wife before we married, and her brother took a swing at my head before he recognized who I was. After that, he was entirely affable and made sure the contracts for marriage were drawn up that very day.”
“That’s so young to get married,” she said, eyes wide.
A lifetime ago, it felt now. He’d changed, grown steadier and quite possibly a bit fustian at times. He was happy now though—happy to have discovered such peace and excitement with Gillian in his life. “My late wife was older and seduced me,” he confessed, lest she think he was entirely to blame and a scoundrel.
Gillian spluttered. “Surely not.”
“Well, this is the country,” he grinned, and stole another kiss, enjoying telling her his secrets. “On balance, young men do tend to lose their virtue at a much younger age than women. All those haystacks and fresh air. I was already an earl and my wife wished to be a countess, so marriage suited us both. We had a good marriage, as you might have guessed from the number of children we had together. I’ve done my best to shield my daughters from similar situations that forced my marriage. I’d much rather Jessica not have the decision taken away from her because of curiosity.”
A frown creased Gillian’s brow. “She’s not ready for marriage.”
“I agree, but she must marry one day.” He was pleased Gillian spoke from the heart about Jessica. She’d been dropping hints enough for the past month for even him to notice her concern was genuine, and not out of fear of losing her livelihood. It was important to him that Gillian speak her mind rather than always agreeing with him, but for the moment he was much more interested in uncovering Gillian’s mysterious past. “How old were you when you married?”
“Twenty,” she whispered and said no more.
“Did you love him very much?”
Gillian shook her head quickly, and Nicolas was relieved beyond words that it was so. He pressed a kiss to her cheek and teased her ear with his breath. If she’d never loved her late husband, it meant that all the space in her heart for love might be available to him in the future. “I’m so sorry.”
“Thorpe wanted a young wife, and I thought marrying him was a sensible decision for a woman in my situation. I had only a small dowry and he was well enough to do that I thought I would never lack for the little comforts I might need in my life. Love had nothing to do with my decision to accept him.”
Gillian had been widowed at four and twenty years. She’d mentioned the age once and he’d committed it to his memory. Four years after that she was a servant to his family. He suspected Wallace Thorpe hadn’t left her much to live on to make her take such drastic measures. “And when he died. What did you think then?”
“I g
rew angry.” She met his gaze, and the look made his heart squeeze tight. “He left me with nothing to live on in his will, made no arrangements with his heir to ensure I had a roof over my head, which is why I took employment as a companion.”
Nicolas made a vow. She would work no more. He would make her his duchess, a lady of leisure with all the comforts he could shower upon her. He held her tight a moment, making plans to see his London solicitor as soon as he returned to the capital. He would ensure the marriage contract provided her with everything she might need for a comfortable life upon his eventual death, too.
A brisk knock sounded on the door, scaring him out of his wits.
They’d never before been interrupted, and he stood stunned for a moment too long. The door rattled, but since it was locked, no one could come in.
“Father, the door is stuck again,” Rebecca complained in a shockingly loud voice.
Thank goodness for the lock. His eldest daughter should have been abed at this late hour.
Gillian bounced out of his arms and hurried to straighten her clothes. She flew around the desk soundlessly, took her usual seat and folded her hands elegantly in her lap.
“Just a moment.” Nicolas smoothed his hair, his waistcoat.
He could see Gillian’s chest rising and falling in panic, but she somehow kept her expression serene. If anyone glanced her way, they’d never suspect she’d been in his arms and aroused a few minutes ago. He admired her composure. For himself, he wasn’t so calm or at all pleased by the interruption. At least when they married, he’d not have the worry of potential scandal over their heads anymore.
The door rattled again.
“Just a moment,” he instructed again, casting a conspiratorial smile at Gillian. He caressed her cheek as he passed her chair, wishing he could just ignore the interruption and return to his conversation with Gillian. There was so much about her he wanted to know. “Let me see what I can do about it from this side,” he called to his daughter.