The Marriage Lesson (20 page)

“Didn’t you have some sort of robe as well?”

She ignored him. “Why do you want to marry me?”

He snorted. “There’s little choice now.”

Her heart stilled. “Little choice?”

“Certainly.” He knelt down to peer under the bed. “Your brother would probably shoot me should he ever learn of our, well, lessons. As for my mother”—he shuddered—“I hazard to think what she would do. It’s a question of honor at this point. Mine as well as yours.”

“That’s why you said there was little choice.” She chose her words with care.

He got to his feet, obviously more concerned with finding her robe than with what he was saying. “There is also the distinct possibility you could even now be with child. If we wed at once there will be no idle counting on fingers.”

“We wouldn’t want that,” she murmured. A cold weight settled around her heart. She pulled her gown on over her head.

He spoke absently, as if he was discussing nothing of any significance, and continued to cast around his room for her wrapper. “Beyond that, to be blunt, it will be quite difficult for you to marry anyone else now.”

“I don’t plan to marry.” The moment she said the words, she knew they’d never been truer. Oh, perhaps for a moment she had thought, had considered, had wanted . . . 

“Not anyone at all.” She was rather surprised at how calm and pleasant she sounded. She slipped out of bed.

“What do you mean?” For the first time he gave her his full attention.

She picked up her robe, hidden in the shadow of the clothes press. “I have told you over and over again that I have no intention of marrying.”

“But everything has changed.”

“What, precisely, has changed?” She pulled on the wrapper, her action as deliberate as her words.

“Well, we . . .  that is . . .  you and I . . . ”

“You’re sputtering again, Thomas,” she said as if she were chastising a young child. “You really should do something about that.”

“I should really do something about you,” he snapped.

She headed toward the door. “Nothing has changed at all. I still have no desire to wed. I am not especially concerned about virtue or reputation. Beyond that I have no wish to tie myself to a man for whom I am nothing more than an obligation of honor. And I’m certain you have objections as well.”

“What objections could I have?” He started toward her. “It was my idea.”

She sniffed. “For one thing, I am not the kind of woman you wish to wed.”

“You can change.”

She whirled back toward him, disbelief widened her eyes. “I can what?”

“I’m certainly not going to risk my future on the possibility of reforming your nature.”

“But we do suit well together.” Frustration rang in his voice. “You must admit that much.”

“For the moment perhaps.” She shrugged. “However, you have made it clear that you wish for a wife much more sedate and biddable than I can ever be. Or that I should ever wish to be. You cannot expect me to become what you want in a wife just as I cannot expect you to be what I want in a husband.”

His brows pulled together in anger. “And what exactly do you want?”

“Do you listen to me at all?” Her ire matched his. “I have told you. Were I interested in marriage—and nothing that has happened here has changed my opinion on that subject—I should want a man of adventure. An explorer of jungles or a hunter of treasure or—”

“Or some idiot who has nothing better to do than float down the bloody Amazon! The kind of man you find only in your blasted books.” He gritted his teeth. “I thought so the first time you said it and I haven’t changed my opinion: That is one of the stupidest things I have ever heard.”

“Do you think so?” She fairly spit the words. “Stupider than considering, even for a moment, marrying you?”

“Yes, much stupider! I’ll have you know I’m considered quite a catch.”

He grabbed her arm and pulled her back. His voice was a study in barely suppressed outrage. “I thought we rather liked each other.”

“I thought we did, too.” For a long moment they stared and she could see anger in his eyes. She refused to let anything show in hers.

“Oh, come now, Thomas, do be rational about all this.” She softened her tone and stepped into his arms. “I know full well you haven’t offered to wed every woman you’ve bedded, and therefore I am appropriately flattered.” She leaned forward and brushed her lips against his. “I’m not going to marry you, but I don’t see why our—”

“I’ve had quite enough of this lesson nonsense,” he snapped.

“I wasn’t going to say
lesson
. I prefer to think of them now as adventures. Just the beginning of all manner of adventures.” She kissed him firmly then pushed away and again headed for the door. “I see no reason why our adventures should not continue.”

“I don’t want adventures, I want to be married!” Thomas’s voice rose.

“And I am certain you will be someday.” She opened the door and looked down the corridor. Empty. “To the kind of woman you’ve always wanted.” She stepped into the hall and glanced back at him over her shoulder. “But it shall not be me.” She nodded and closed the door firmly behind her.

Quietly she opened her door and slipped inside. She tossed off her wrapper, lay down on her bed and stared up at the high ceiling.

She would not marry a man who wanted her to satisfy some masculine idea of honor. What true heroine would?

And she would never marry a man who did not love her.

Despair washed through her, pain so intense she wondered that she could bear it. The back of her throat ached and tears fogged her eyes.

How could she have been so foolish? Oh, not to have given her virginity to Thomas. Her attitude about virtue hadn’t changed. And hadn’t she—in the back of her mind, at least—planned this all along?

But to have believed he shared her feelings and not just her desire . . .  how could she have been so stupid?

She’d been wrong about love as well. Indeed it did exist outside of books and stories and was apparently not all that difficult to find after all. No, love crept up behind you when you least expected it, unwanted and overwhelming.

What was exceedingly rare was being loved in return.

Thomas stared at his closed door in shock.

He combed his hand through his hair and thought back over the last few minutes. She had really seemed rather amenable to the idea until . . . 

He groaned. Of course. It was when he had started talking about the need to wed, rather than any desire on his part, that she had become so coolly pleasant. Well, what did she want from him, anyway?

There had never been any thought of love between them. Friendship, yes, but love? He snorted. He’d been in love, and this was not it. Love made one feel light-headed and quite giddy.

Marianne questioned every word he said, every action he took. She matched her wits against his unrelentingly and, he had to confess, often bested him. Admittedly, their sparring was as stimulating as anything he’d experienced with his friends. But this was not love.

They would suit well together as man and wife. Certainly she wasn’t what he’d originally had in mind, but was that, in truth, so bad? She would at least fit in well with each and every Effington female. Hell, she was cut from the same cloth. And if the marriages in his family were tempestuous, they also seemed remarkably happy.

No, he could do much worse than to wed Marianne Shelton. Indeed, he wanted to marry her. The thought pulled him up short.

It wasn’t love, of course, but then love had never played a role when he’d considered taking a wife. And perhaps what he shared with Marianne was better than frivolous emotion, anyway. He truly liked her and he’d never especially liked a woman before.

Marrying her would resolve any questions of honor. And, as an added bonus, would delight his mother and probably Richard and Gillian as well. A match with Marianne would please everyone.

Except, of course, Marianne herself.

Still, how difficult would it be to convince her?

He might not love her, but he did want her. It was startling to realize just how much he wanted her. In his bed. In his life.

He needed a plan. A good plan. He ignored the realization that his plans had never been especially successful where Marianne was concerned, but there was much more at stake now.

No, he didn’t just need a plan.

Perhaps, this time, he needed help.

Becky and Jocelyn sat on the sofa regarding him with similar expressions of guarded interest. Even Henry, lying at Becky’s feet, stared with a look of idle curiosity.

He drew a deep breath. “I wish to marry your sister.”

“Marianne?” Jocelyn’s voice was skeptical.

“Why?” Becky said bluntly.

“Because I think we will suit well together.” His words were short and clipped.

The girls traded glances.

“We thought you wanted someone rather less outspoken than Marianne,” Becky said. “Someone a bit more biddable and reserved.”

“I have changed my mind.”

Jocelyn’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“I like your sister a great deal. We are well suited to one another.”

“You said that before,” Becky pointed out.

“It bears repeating.”

“It bears scrutiny.” Jocelyn studied him curiously. “Marianne doesn’t want to marry.”

“I know that.” He huffed in frustration. “That is why I need help to convince her.”

“I would prefer not to wait.”

Becky shook her head. “Marianne is not particularly interested in marriage. We love her dearly, but she is rather odd in that respect. No, she plans to travel the world and have interesting experiences—”

“And adventures,” he said sharply, waving away her comment. “Yes, yes, I know all that. I intend to change her plans. And you both should want it, too. Since you vow you won’t marry before her.”

“You seem rather more desperate than most men who simply wish to marry.” Becky studied him carefully, then her eyes widened and she jumped to her feet. “Good Lord!” She pointed an accusing finger. “You’ve—you’ve . . . ”

“I’ve what?” A sinking feeling settled in his stomach.

“He’s what?” Jocelyn said curiously, rising to join Becky.

Becky grabbed Jocelyn’s shoulders and turned her sister to face her. Her voice was low but he could still make out the words. “Think for a moment, Jocelyn. What is the latest development in the
Country Miss
stories?”

Jocelyn frowned. “Why, Lord W has . . . ” She sucked in a shocked breath. She turned a scathing glare on him. “You beast!”

“You fiend!” Becky’s contemptuous look mirrored her sister’s. “You’ve ruined her, haven’t you?”

Henry growled.

“Ruined?” Jocelyn shot.

“Fallen?” Becky snapped.

“I was going to say bride,” he replied dryly.

Jocelyn collapsed onto the sofa and pressed the back of her hand to her forehead dramatically. “I cannot believe this. I knew her strange views about marriage and virtue and what women can and cannot do in this world would bring nothing but disaster.”

“That’s not the worst of it,” Becky said to her sister. “You do realize, if this gets out, she’s not the only one whose reputation will be shattered? Her actions will reflect on us as well.”

“And we’ll all be as good as ruined. Damnation.” Jocelyn leapt to her feet and advanced toward Thomas, fire in her eyes. He prudently backed up. “This is your fault. You ruined her. You have to—”

“Fix her.” Becky moved toward him in a threaten-ing manner. “I mean fix this.” He took another step backward and smacked into the mantel. “Marry her, Helmsley. Now!”

They pinned him with twin accusing glares. At once he realized how a fox felt when trapped by menacing hounds.

“I want nothing more than to marry her.” He glared back. “
She
will not marry
me
.”

“That is a problem.” Becky crossed her arms and paced. “But it shouldn’t be insurmountable.”

“She can be extremely stubborn.” Jocelyn mimicked her sister’s pose and paced in the opposite direction. “And she’s adamant on this particular subject.”