She nodded. “Yes.”
“Neither of us are growing younger. For whatever reason, we’ve both let life slip away and have done nothing in the way of leaving a legacy.” He ticked off the items on his gloved fingers. “You’ve had no opportunities and even less fortune in landing a man.” When she sputtered, he continued quickly to his next point. “I have little patience for entering the Marriage Mart in London. Plus, I need to do my duty to the title—”
“Stop.” Sarah held up a hand. “I won’t lie. The idea holds a certain merit, and I’m aghast that I’m actually considering it.”
“Why? Marriage solves a myriad of problems.” In this he was confident that he’d prevail. It was only a matter of convincing her.
And then what? You’ll have caught a tiger by the tail. How will that help you?He had no answers, so he ignored that inner voice of reason.
“I know nothing about you, nor you of me. We’re strangers who have met once before today.” She shook her head. “And that first go ‘round wasn’t exactly civil.”
“What does that matter?” He watched her. Why didn’t she consider the offer as the boon that it was? “If I had to select a bride in London, it would be much the same.” He shrugged. “Only this way, I do have some control over the woman who’d be my countess. Thank the Lord it won’t be handed to an empty-headed debutante, for you are intelligent and possess a backbone.” He shrugged. “You and I will learn of each other as we go along.”
“I haven’t said yes yet.” Sarah crossed her arms at her chest. “Although I have long wondered if I’d ever marry, having an earl suddenly ask for my hand isn’t quite the romance that I dreamed of.” A frown pulled her lips down at the corners. “I would have preferred a husband to want me for me, but I suppose life doesn’t present itself in that fashion, does it?” A hint of bitterness rode upon those words, and for one second Drew could fully empathize with the feeling. “Especially not for one like me.”
“If you continue to think yourself as less than, then perhaps you wouldn’t be the best fit for a countess like I thought.” What, exactly, was she opposed to: marrying him or taking up a title? The fact she’d found fault with either had sparks of anger flaring in his chest. He was giving her the opportunity to better her standing in society, and she would throw it away with a snap of her fingers? Bah! Perhaps the life of a hermit would be best for him after all.
Yet the title demanded that he bring his life into order. He refused to give up his control to his cousin. Without marrying, could he do that? Familiar, crushing anxiety gripped his chest and he put a hand to his heart as he struggled to breathe property, fought against the onslaught of emotions battering his insides not to show that weakness in front of her. Would he fail in landing a wild female such as her too? Damn it all, couldn’t he succeed in something?
For long moments she stared at him; he could almost see her mind working as she considered every aspect. Finally, when he thought he might expire on the spot, she spoke. “When did you think up this mad scheme?” She relaxed her arms only to clutch the silver locket that hung about her neck, the sun glinting on the silver chain. “I’m old enough to know I have neither the looks nor the figure to render a sane man mad with lust.”
Then she obviously needed a better cheval glass. “Perhaps you’ve underestimated yourself.” Since he’d already acted rashly, he dared go farther and swept his gaze up and down her person in a slow perusal. The dull colors she chose in her clothing did nothing for her, but that was easily changed. And with very little imagination, he could see her sans those clothes. Tiny fires licked through his veins. With his temper, her spirit, and the building attraction, they wouldn’t pass the time bored. “Perhaps I’m mad indeed, but I’m not wrong. I knew as soon as I put you on my horse that we’d suit.”
“Suit who? You or your title?” she asked in a quiet voice.
“Does it matter?” His chest tightened as anxiety had its way. “I mean to be faithful to both my title and to you.”
Confusion clouded her eyes. For another swath of long moments, she remained silent. Then she once more retrieved her bonnet. As her gaze found his, a hint of longing filled those brandy-hued depths, gone at her next blink. “When would this wedding occur?”
Ah, she was coming around to his way of thinking. He gave into a tight grin. No, she wasn’t a feathers-for-brains female, and perhaps that’s what initially drew him to her. “Five weeks if you’d like the banns read. A week or so if you wish for a common license. I have no preference.”
Sarah—God, the name sounded all too plain—snorted. “As long as you have your way, you mean?”
A quick spike of anger stabbed through his chest to collide with the heavy anxiety. He gasped for breath. There was nothing to hold onto as black spots chased at the edges of his vision. Please don’t let me have an episode here on the road. “How dare you assume that.”
“It’s not an assumption. You’ve showed yourself quite arrogant on several occasions while in my company. I’m merely stating a truth.”
Devil take her anyway.Every breath he took came with a shower of pain, for his body didn’t wish for proper or outward calm. It wanted to let each emotion battling inside have at it even though that would destroy him. “I haven’t lied. I do need a countess.”
“I understand that, but why me?”
“Why not?” He gasped for breath. For the love of God, when would this terrible pressure relent? “You’re long in the tooth, true, but you’re more intelligent and knowledgeable than debutantes. That alone puts you well ahead of anyone else I might have chosen.” An involuntary shiver went down his spine as she sputtered, and her eyes snapped fire once more. If she let herself, would the storm she’d bring cleanse his soul? A yearning for that added itself to the pile and churned through the gripping anxiety.
“Oh, well, thank you very much for your regard,” she shot off, bitterness and annoyance clearly ringing in her voice.
Drew rubbed his fingers over his heart. Would it suddenly stop beating like his father’s had while he’d fought the lingering failing of the same? For that matter, had his sire battled with the relentless anxiety too? “I’m certain you’ll want to have children sooner rather than later, yes?”
“I don’t…” Her mouth worked as if she were a caught fish. “Insults couched as compliments will not help your cause, my lord.” Her fingers crushed the brim of the ugly bonnet. “Are you merely tired of bucolic country life or do you only wish to relieve other… needs?” She let her gaze drop to the front of his breeches. Another streak of desire went through his shaft, tightening it.
Oh, God, could she discern that evidence?
“Damn it all, Sarah,” he said from around gritted teeth. No, there were no other feelings for her other than blatant lust, but he could do worse. Perhaps over time they’d form a friendship of sorts, and that was something he sorely needed. “I need an heir. You’re smart enough to know how such things come about.” And he’d bloody well enjoy taking her to bed, merely to discover if she was a virgin as he suspected. If she were, he’d relish the opportunity to teach her the finer points of carnal pleasure.
A blush jumped into her cheeks that fairly proclaimed her an innocent at such an advanced age that he had to stifle a groan. “How fascinating, but I do know. Thank you.” Her words were clipped and cold. “Also, how flattering you think to use me as a breeding service.”
Her annoyance stirred his own. It rose to fight with the anxiety, made his chest so tight he feared he might cast up his accounts at her feet, but in the background, fear wormed through. Would he fail at this, be alone for the rest of his life? “That is how life goes, Miss Copeland.” He couldn’t resist needling her. If she continued to “my lord” him, he’d revert to using her surname. “Don’t most women angle to marry a titled lord?”
She huffed. “I am not most women.”