“I was serious.”
“Really?” She crossed her arms over her now respectably covered chest, which reminded him that he’d best finish dressing himself, before someone came along. “So you’ve suddenly changed your mind about marrying? Now you want a wife?”
“No . . . I mean, yes, but . . .”
“You see?” She put on her bonnet, tying the ribbons under her chin. “You have a ‘but,’ too.”
“I suppose I do.” He buttoned up his waistcoat with a sigh. “Tell me this. Do you believe a man should protect his family? Make sure no harm comes to them, even if it means he has to deny himself something?” Like the woman he wants?
“If his family can’t protect themselves, I suppose. But that’s not the issue here. The issue is that you wanted to know all my reasons for being reluctant to marry, but you don’t want to share any of yours.”
He came up close to her. “Your reasons can’t ruin anyone. Your reasons won’t have repercussions for years to come, decades possibly, if you choose to share them with the wrong person.”
Her gaze narrowed on him. “And I suppose you think I could be the wrong person.”
Damn, he shouldn’t have put it that way. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.” She turned to leave, then stopped to look back at him. “You won’t trust me with your secrets, and perhaps I can understand why.” He’d just started to relax, to feel relief that she did accept his reasons for keeping things private, when her tone turned sarcastic. “After all, we’ve only known each other a month. And only a short while ago, you were inside me.”
He winced at that.
But she scarcely noticed. “I’ve heard every intimate secret of your sister’s and your mother’s—apparently they trust me. How do you know they haven’t already told me what you’re hiding so closely?”
“Because they don’t know it. And I’d prefer to keep it that way. Hence my refusal to tell you.”
“You haven’t—” She gaped at him. “Good heavens! If I were them, I’d never forgive you. Why do men always assume that women can’t keep important secrets? They can and do, all the time, especially where their families are concerned. Besides, if I had a mind to ruin you, I could do so just by accusing you of . . . of seducing me, or of injuring my sisters or any number of things.”
“You could,” he said, irritated by her refusal to recognize that he wasn’t ready to tell her these things. “But then I wouldn’t pay you and your sisters what you’re owed.”
She stared him down. “You’re an arse, do you know that?”
“Language, Diana,” he said as he retied his cravat. He could see from her reddening face that those words really set her off. But then, she was setting him off right now.
“Ohhh, you are so . . . you make me . . . Ooh! Why in the world I would ever even want to marry you is beyond me.” She tipped up her chin. “Thank you for the lesson in lovemaking, Your Grace. It was most enjoyable. But what happened afterward was enough to give me a sense of how marriage to you would be, and I do believe I can do without that experience, thank you very much!”
She marched out of the laboratory and up the path through the gardens, heedless of the blow she’d struck to his heart.
No, not heart. This wasn’t anything absurd like that. Because if it were, he would be in a world of trouble. He watched her until she disappeared around the corner of the house. Then he started roaming the room, throwing cushions, and in general behaving like a child.
Or an arse. He halted to stare at the wall. God, she was right. He was an arse. But she made him insane when she . . . demanded things he couldn’t give her.
Like your trust?
“Shut up!” he shouted at his conscience. “Why do you have to jump on my every little error and rub my face in it?”
“Excuse me,” said a female voice from the doorway. “Is this a bad time? Should I come back?”
With a scowl, he rounded on Verity, who was looking furtively about the room as if wondering to whom he was speaking. “Yes,” he snapped. “It’s a bad time. But come in anyway. Why not?”
Now even more wary than before, Verity edged her way into the building. “I met Diana as she was coming across the lawn. She said you’d been showing her a self-contained laboratory? Is this it?”
“It is.” He forced himself to calm down, to hide the truth of what he and Diana had been doing in here. “Forgive me for being short with you. I’m a bit concerned about the upcoming ball, as you might imagine.” He nearly choked on the lie. He doubted he’d ever be concerned about any ball, but he had to give some reason for raging aloud at his conscience.
“Not nearly as concerned as I am,” she said. “Your cook is inexperienced with food for ball suppers. I gather that your predecessor rarely entertained.”
“He died at the age of ninety-one, so I doubt he’d done so in decades.”
“I think you’re right. I never heard that he had any parties.”