Aurora fell silent, thinking grimly of her stern, illustrious father. Not even Percy realized how violent the Duke of Eversley's temper could be. For the most part, she had been a dutiful daughter; rightly or wrongly, she possessed a strong
sense of family loyalty and obligation due her rank. But she would be crossing her father with a vengeance by making such a scandalous marriage.
Jane rose and went to her, putting a comforting arm around her waist. "Perhaps I'm callous to say so, Aurora, but it isn't as if the union would be permanent. You could even look at it as if Sabine were merely lending you his name. Once you leave here, you will never see him again. You wouldn't have to spend your life tied to a man you don't love."
Reminded that Nicholas Sabine was to lose his life, Aurora squeezed her eyes shut.
"I know how much you loved Geoffrey, my dear," Jane murmured, apparently mistaking the reason for her despair. "But it will only compound your misery to be locked in a loveless marriage to Halford. You've had enough sorrow in your life."
Aurora looked down at her clenched hands to hide her reflections. She had loved Geoffrey deeply, but not in the way Jane supposed. Theirs had been a comfortable alliance rather than a grand passion. Geoffrey had been a gentle soul and one of the kindest men she had ever known, with a sharp mind he preferred to engage in scholarly pursuits.
His quiet, complacent nature was what had made the prospect of marriage to him so appealing, Aurora knew. She had cherished him for his temperament as much as anything – because he was so completely unlike her father. He would never try to rule her or dictate her every action or fly into rages at the slightest provocation, as her father did. As Geoffrey's wife, she would be free to live her own life, to control her own future. Indeed, Geoffrey was perfectly content to follow her lead in all matters, so long as he could keep his nose buried in his books. She had grieved at his death, but she'd loved him more like a brother than lover.
Her throat tightened with guilt and regret that she hadn't felt a greater passion for him, but she banished the bittersweet ache his memory always engendered and swallowed past her dry throat.
"Mr. Sabine," she said finally, "wants more than a marriage in name only. If we wed, he will insist on… on consummating our union, so no one can question its legitimacy."
That gave Jane pause, while Percy looked grave. He made none of the objections Aurora expected, however.
"Your father would indeed be unable to challenge the marriage then," Percy asserted. "And everyone knows Halford's preference for schoolroom misses. He will undoubtedly give up his pursuit of you if you're truly a widow and no longer a virgin bride."
Aurora couldn't help flushing at such plain speaking, even though she should be accustomed to it by now. The frank honesty and openness in the Osborne household was uncommon but admittedly refreshing compared to the stifling mores under which she'd been raised.
Seeing her discomfiture, Jane frowned at her husband, but then nodded slowly in agreement. "Mr. Sabine is injured, Aurora. He is not likely to be much of a husband to you. And you would only have to submit once. Furthermore… pray forgive me for being immodest, my dear, but I daresay Mr. Sabine has enough expertise to make the experience not… unpleasant for you."
It was Percy's turn to frown, but Jane forestalled his comment by asking him about the nuptial arrangements. "You can't possibly allow your cousin to be married in that dismal prison, Percy," she said emphatically.
"I doubt Nicholas would be allowed to leave the fortress, but the Brimstone chapel is quite adequate. The ceremony could be held there tomorrow evening, which would allow enough time to secure a special license and arrange for a solicitor to write out a new will."
When Aurora remained silent, Percy went to stand before her and take her hand. "You know, my dear, you don't have to accept Sabine's proposal, or Halford's either, for that matter. You are welcome to make your home with us for as long as you wish. You needn't return to England."
"Thank you, Percy," Aurora said quietly. "But my life is there, with my family, my friends."
"Well, don't let us browbeat you into making a decision you will regret."
She smiled briefly. "I won't." This was too important a matter to allow herself to be pressured even by her loving, well-meaning relatives. "I am profoundly grateful for your concern – grateful to you both," she said, including Jane in her glance. "But will you forgive me if I say I need some time alone to consider?"
"Of course we'll forgive you," Jane said warmly, giving her a gentle hug.
"Certainly," Percy agreed. "But I'm afraid you will have to make up your mind quickly. Nicholas Sabine is running out of time." "I know," Aurora said bleakly.
After fetching a pelisse, she made her way outside to walk beneath the palms. The Caribbean sun was setting, sheening the distant ocean horizon a glittering copper rose, but Aurora scarcely saw the beauty. Instead she saw a lean, bronzed face with dark, fathomless eyes gazing at her intently.
There were any number of reasons marrying Nicholas Sabine would be madness. He was a rake and adventurer and accused felon. They were enemies, their countries caught up in an interminable war. Her father would be outraged. Society would be aghast. Yet it was her own emotions that she feared most. Could she bear the turmoil of losing a husband to the gallows so soon after vowing to love and honor until death parted them?
She had already lost too many people she cared for, including the man who was her long-intended husband. And as irrational as it might be, she already grieved for Nicholas Sabine, when she'd known him for barely a day. Her emotions were far too deeply involved – and she would only compound her involvement by becoming his wife.
After Geoffrey's tragic death, she had vowed never to let herself care deeply for anyone again. She'd had more than enough of bereavement.
Coming to the edge of the palm-lined path, Aurora turned blindly back toward the house, grappling with her conflicting emotions. How had she come to this difficult choice?
Before Geoffrey's death, her future had been well established. As the Earl of March's wife she would have had everything she wanted out of life. Tranquility. A comfortable marriage. An agreeable husband for whom she held a strong affection. A large measure of independence. The hope of children.
After the tragedy of Geoffrey's disappearance at sea, she had tried to forget her grief, but her father had only compounded her misery by forcing her to accept another suitor. At least there was no chance of her being hurt by giving her heart to Halford.
Her lips curved in a bitter smile as she paused beside a palm tree.
She seemed destined to make a cold-blooded marriage. For her, true love was something only to be longed for and imagined. She would never know the kind of grand passion that poets spun legends about, the kind of intense, overwhelming love Raven's mother had known with Nicholas Sabine's father…