He stood a few feet away, watching her unwaveringly as she sat. “I’m a rich man and I’ll treat you well. You’ll want for nothing and any gifts are yours forever.”
What he bought her might be hers forever. He however wouldn’t be hers forever. He didn’t need to say it. Even in the backwaters of Kent, people knew how such arrangements worked. She and Leath would stay together until he lost interest, then they would part.
Nell’s rising bubble of excitement burst, leaving her flat and bitter. What was she doing, considering this? She was a girl from a respectable family, not a courtesan. Could she bear to give herself to a man, knowing that he’d cast her aside the moment he tired of her? A nobleman of Leath’s standing might offer a woman of her humble background carte blanche. He’d never offer her marriage.
The question boiled down to whether she wanted the marquess enough to abandon all hope of a conventional future. Because there was no chance on God’s earth for a conventional future with Leath.
She was much like any woman. She might have waited to marry while Dorothy grew up, but she wanted a husband and children and a home of her own. Security. Love…
For reasons that she refused to examine, the admission that she wanted love jammed a lump the size of Canterbury Cathedral in her throat. She’d been blessed with love. Her father, her mother, her stepfather, her half-sister. Although only her stepfather remained this side of heaven.
If she became Leath’s mistress, she’d have to cut herself off from William Simpson. He’d never forgive her fall. It had been bad enough witnessing his grief and humiliation over Dorothy.
She couldn’t do this. No matter how she yearned.
Still Leath explained the business of being a mistress. Would her choice be different if he’d been unprincipled enough to kiss her into a melting puddle of surrender?
“I’ll put the house in your name. And buy you a carriage and horses. You’ll have a fashionable wardrobe.” He paused. “I forbid any gray.”
Nell was too troubled to respond to his teasing. Who knew it was so hard to turn away from the primrose path? But of course, standing squarely on this particular primrose path was a handsome man who made her blood sing.
When she didn’t speak, he went on. “And an extravagant allowance.”
She needed to say something. The longer he spoke, the more he’d think that she favored his proposition. Strangely, the possibility of facing Dorothy’s fate hadn’t entered into her thinking. Now it did. “What about children?”
His gray eyes were shadowed and he began to snap the crop against his thigh again. “I’ll make generous provision for offspring, but don’t mistake me, life is tough for bastards. Even someone as highly placed as the Duke of Sedgemoor suffers because of questions about his legitimacy.”
Her eyes sharpened. “Do you have any offspring?”
“No.” His smile was rueful. “I’ve always been chary of scandal. The irony is that having worked so hard to keep my good reputation, my uncle and sister went ahead and tainted the family name. I may as well have played the libertine.”
Once she’d have thought that he lied. Once she’d believed him a debaucher of the vilest sort. No longer. Still she was astonished to hear herself speak the truth. “My half-sister Dorothy died in childbirth after her seducer deserted her.”
She’d reached a point where she knew he wouldn’t recognize Dorothy’s name or fate. Instead his gaze darkened with compassion. Her heart, which insisted she ignore her head’s dictates, squashed into a messy little lump of goo. He dropped his whip and kneeled beside her, wrapping her in his arms. “Eleanor, I’m so sorry.”
He’d touched her more often than he should. He’d held her in desire. But this felt different, as though he cocooned her in a blanket to keep her safe. Since her mother’s death, nobody had held her purely for comfort. In her family, she was the strong one.
For one forbidden moment, she leaned into Leath. He was warm and smelled like heaven. If heaven smelled like horses and sandalwood. Only as she relinquished the burdens of duty and vengeance and virtue did she realize how tired she was.
Right now if Leath offered to keep her in his arms forever, she’d say yes. Just for the privilege of nestling her head in this wonderful hollow between his neck and his shoulder that seemed created for her.
She allowed herself a few seconds of blessed ease before straightening. The temptation to stay was too overwhelming.
He withdrew and leveled a searching gaze upon her. “You haven’t answered me.” His voice lowered to the deep velvety tones that lured her even when she wasn’t in his arms. “My lovely Eleanor, will you share my bed? I promise you pleasure and respect and comfort.” He paused. “And joy and friendship.”
She gave a choked laugh and realized that her eyes were wet. She was such a mess, she hadn’t realized that she was crying. “I’m not sure whether I should be honored or whether I should slap your face.”
“You can slap me all you want if you say yes.”
She needed to escape his drugging nearness. She shifted and he, perceptive as always, let her go.
“That’s a powerful incentive to consent.”
He stood and stepped away. The hunger in his eyes made her wish that she could give another answer. Or that she wasn’t used to thinking ahead and making plans and counting consequences.
“You’re not going to agree, are you?” He bent to retrieve his crop.
For one blazing minute, she wondered whether she could throw her bonnet over a windmill. The marquess didn’t offer everything, but he offered a lot. She didn’t care about the worldly rewards, although she appreciated that he wanted to look after her. She did care about the friendship and the joy. And the pleasure. Even in her inexperience, her body heated at the idea of lying beneath him.