r wives and consider it no offense. Surely she would consider him kind for not forcing his attentions upon her? He did not think he could even if he tried. For God’s sake, she was Harold’s little sister. Though she had grown much in the nine years since he had last seen her—no longer a girl but a woman now—he could not resist the urge to protect her.
They would have to mate as husband and wife at some point. Dunnesford needed an heir, and it was the passing of his father a year ago that had finally forced the matter of marriage upon Vale. He had lived most of his life with little to regard for his father and had joined the army to spite the domineering old man, but his father had surprised him.
“Forgive me for the poor father I have been,” the former Marquess had said on his deathbed. “I would not reproach you for refusing to honor me with a grandson.”
For a man who had developed a keen sense of the desires of women, Vale had neglected to consider that his wife had certain needs as well. Lustful needs. For a moment he considered all the young men he knew, but quickly dismissed each and every one of them as an unsuitable partner for Harrietta. He shook his head. What other husband would find himself seeking a paramour for his wife? But he had to find another means to satisfy her. One that did not entail Madame Botreaux’s.
God, what a bloody mess.