"I'm not worried about Uncle Ashby." At least he wasn't the foremost worry on her mind.
"Then what is the matter? Is it because I pushed you last night about reconciling with your father?"
She shook her head. She knew that Drake would not force the issue, regardless of what he believed to be best. Look at the issue of their marriage. Although he made his desire to marry her clear, he had not resorted to intimidation or blackmail. He had brought up her aunt's place in Society and then protected it with their engagement. He could have used her consideration for Lady Upworth to force her hand, but he hadn't.
"I have never been good at parlor games, particularly the guessing variety." He leaned back in the chair behind the desk, tapping his pencil against his other hand. "Why don't you just tell me what has you so preoccupied?"
"I think I may be pregnant." She blurted the words out without making any attempt to soften them.
He shot up from the desk, dropped the pencil, and practically leaped over the desk to reach her. He gripped her shoulders. "How can you tell? Have you missed your menses?"
She smiled at the urgency in his voice. "It hasn't been long enough, but this morning I woke feeling every bit as seasick as I ever did aboard ship."
He dropped his hands and stepped back. "What are you going to do?"
She cocked her head to one side and studied him. He didn't look like a man who had just heard he was going to get his own way in a very important matter. He looked wary, as if he were bracing himself for a blow.
"What do you mean?"
He curled his hands into fists. "Are you going to marry me—or go back to your island and pretend to be a widow like your mother did?"
If she had any doubt that she could trust him, it dissolved with his question. He was giving her a choice, refusing to allow her to feel trapped, although he must realize as she did that her returning to the island as a widow would be ludicrous. No one would believe it.
"I had thought to marry you."
"Why?"
She hadn't expected that question. If he thought she was going to admit tender feelings for him when he wasn't even sure he believed in love, then he was in for a disappointment.
"You made your feelings about having a child of yours grow up illegitimate very clear. I thought you would be happy with my decision."
"I am happy."
"Well, you aren't acting like it." If she sounded like she was complaining, she felt justified.
The tears came as a complete shock.
"Bloody hell." He stepped forward and pulled her against him. "Hush, sweetheart. I am happier than I can say that you've agreed to marry me. Even if I don't completely understand why."
She sniffled against his shirt. "I should think it's obvious. I'm pregnant with your child. It is the accepted course of action."
Laughter rumbled in his chest even as he rubbed her back in a soothing motion. "You so rarely take the accepted course that I can't help being a little surprised when you choose to do so."
Honestly. She had expected a much different reaction, and her patience had worn thin waiting for it.
She struggled against his confining arms. "Let me go."
Rather than let her go, he leaned down and caught her legs under her knees and swung her up into his embrace.
"Put me down."
He ignored her protest and carried her to the infamous sofa near the window.
He sat down with her ensconced firmly in his lap. "Relax. All this struggling can't be good for the baby."
She snorted.
From what she had seen of pregnant women back home, babies could withstand a great deal. "Our baby is not so fainthearted."