“It’s raining again,” he said.
“Oh, well, in that case, can I speak to you in the music room?”
“All right,” he said ungraciously.
He hadn’t intended to propose to his future wife in a damned music room, but he rapidly saw his alternatives deteriorating. He followed Victoria into the room and closed the door behind him. He watched her walk to the pianoforte and run her fingers over a few keys. He drew himself up, prepared to declare himself. The good Lord knew he had right on his side.
But he didn’t have the chance.
Victoria turned suddenly, and without preamble, her voice so bald as to be rude, “I wish you to marry me, Rafael. I wish it to be a marriage of convenience, with benefits to both of us. The benefits to me are obvious. For you, I wish you to know that I will give you half my inheritance.”
He stared at her, unable to remember when he’d been so taken aback. She’d beaten him to the punch. He felt at once deflated and irritated. As a lady, she should have waited, should have let him do the proposing. Here she was demanding a ridiculous marriage of convenience. Well, so much for her fondness for him. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her that if he married her, all her money, not just half, would become his automatically. He didn’t say it.
Before he could reply, whatever that would have entailed, she continued, more quickly, more uncertainly, “As I said, it would be a marriage of convenience. I won’t try to curtail your activities. You will be free to do whatever you wish to do. I swear, Rafael, I won’t hang on your sleeve or make you uncomfortable.”
“I see,” he said finally, turning away from her to walk to the long bay windows. He stared at the blurring streaks of rain on the windowpanes, and said over his shoulder, not looking at her, “When did you come up with this idea?”
“While I was bathing.”
“Ah. What makes you think I would be in the least interested in such a proposition?”
She was silent.
“A wife is an immense responsibility, Victoria. A responsibility of a lifetime. We scarcely know each other.”
“You’re right, of course,” she said, and he heard the defeat, the utter helplessness in her voice. He felt like a damned bounder. He had planned to marry her, and here he was making her a supplicant. He was grinding her under, breaking her utterly, and it wasn’t well done of him.
“I’ll marry you,” he said.
He turned as he spoke, and saw the leap of joy and relief in her expressive eyes. “Your eyes are very blue at this moment,” he said.
“They change. Sometimes they even cross, particularly when I’m scared.”
“Well, they’re not crossing now.”
“No.”
“There is just one matter, Victoria. I refuse to have a marriage of convenience.”
She stiffened, staring at him.
“If we marry, when we marry, you will be my wife and we will be as intimate as a husband and wife should be. Do you agree?”
She thought of his strength, his warmth, the gentleness of his hands on her back but hours before, when Frances had brought her back. She tried to picture him naked, but she wasn’t all that certain what a man looked like completely unclothed. Then she thought of her leg and blanched. He would see her leg. What if he were repelled, as Elaine had been? It was a thought she simply couldn’t handle at the moment. She would think of something. Tell him now. Tell him the truth. But she couldn’t. She was a coward, a bloody coward.
“Well, Victoria, do you agree?” Why was she hesitating? Did she find him unattractive? Did she fear having him bed her? He frowned. It wasn’t a possibility he was used to.
“Yes,” she said finally, “I agree.”
He rubbed his hands together. “Very well. We will wed as quickly as possible. I’m glad it’s settled, for I expect Damien to appear here at any time.”
He saw that fear in her eyes again.
“You won’t have to see him. Now, let’s tell everyone. I imagine that Lucia will know precisely what to do. Special license and all that nonsense.”
“There is no one to give me away,” she said, her voice a bit wistful.
“The marquess would be delighted.”