The question yanked him from his thoughts. “Of course not. I have a townhouse in Brighton as well as a hunting box in the north of England.”
“Ah, then I will take the Brighton house.” Her eyes sparkled when she glanced at him. “It sounds more relaxing than London, and if I’m to change my life, I’d rather not spend my days as a neighbor to my great uncle, who has never cared genuinely for me. I imagine I’ll see rather more of him than I’d like once you and I wed.”
“Fine.” Never had he been in the acquaintance of anyone as pushy or determined as Miss Sarah Copeland. Drew took up his pen, slashed through a line of writing, and then modified it with a heavy scribble. This new concession irritated the hell out of him, for he enjoyed the Brighton property; why should he agree to give it up? Damnation, that’s where he should have gone when he’d run from London.
But had he done that, he would never have met her…
“I have many memories of being in Brighton with my father—before he became too ill to travel,” he said as he finished altering the document.
“Perhaps it’s time to create new ones—with you as the earl.” Her dulcet tones shivered over his skin, tugged at a piece of his soul he wasn’t ready to give up.
So, he grunted. “Do you remember your parents fondly?” She was intriguing, and he needed more from her than she’d told him.
“Yes.” The word was said so softly he had to lean closer to hear. Sarah wrapped a hand around the ever-present silver locket. “However, that is a conversation for another time.” She kept her focus on the second sheet of the contract.
Another stab of hot anger streaked through him. He’d made an overture and she’d rejected it. Damn it, if she wished to close herself off, so be it. Nothing of a personal nature would be shared. “Shall we proceed to the next item? If we part while still wed, all jewels belonging to the Hadleigh estate will return to the estate.”
“I object.” She raised her head and stared at him over the tops of her spectacles. “If you give me jewelry, I assume they’re gifts. Therefore, I shall keep them.”
What gammon was this? Drew gritted his teeth. “They would have been on loan. Why should I reward a woman with jewelry if she intends to leave me?”
Sarah popped a hand onto her hip. Annoyance flashed in her eyes, turning them from plain brown to a whisky hue with golden flecks. “Ah, so anything you give to me is merely a bribe to make me stay, to pretend to fall in love with you? For what purpose? To show the ton you’ve achieved the perfect life?”
To the devil with her, the annoying little baggage. To alleviate his building rage and the anxiety twisting through his insides, turning her every word into something skewed, Drew picked up an empty brandy snifter from the sideboard and then hurled it against the fireplace. The satisfying tinkle of broken glass echoed in the silence. “Fine. You may have the jewelry, but I ask that you don’t sell the pieces unless you’re desperate.” With savage strokes that tore slits in the paper, he modified the document.
“How lovely. You’ve devolved into acts of tantrums such as my ten-year-old charge might.” She shoved her spectacles back into place. “It is not acceptable from him, and neither is it from you.” While he gawked, she took the pen from him and proceeded to add notes to the document. “The next item deals with children. Which follows nicely into what I just said. I won’t tolerate your temper, and if we do have offspring as a result of this union, if we end up going our separate ways inside the marriage, the children will go with me. There is no reason for them to witness their father conducting his life as a beast.”
“Absolutely not!” His roar of objection echoed through the room. Drew rounded on her, turned her to face him as rage boiled in his blood. “I’ll not have you poison my children against me.”
“Listen to yourself.” She rolled her eyes heavenward. “I have more class and dignity than that.” As he tugged on his suddenly too-tight collar, the intelligent minx searched his face with her gaze, looking for God only knew what. Did he pass muster even when in the grip of anger? His hands shook from the need to belong. “I would prefer the children to know a loving parent over the company of a bevy of servants. No doubt you will be busy enough.”
Something inside him snapped. It could have been logic, but the dam that held back the bulk of his rage was no longer there. “How dare you tell me how to run my life. I need air.” Shoving a hand through his hair, he left the study before he said—or did—something he would regret later.
He’d barely cleared the room when he was obliged to gasp for breath, his chest tight and squeezing. Black spots flirted with the edges of his vision and he sagged, his back against the wall. When would the terrible pressure and impossible burden of who he was lessen? He rubbed the heels of his hands on his closed eyes. With every new day, he found another reason to antagonize her, and anxiety was always a step behind him, taunting him, pointing out all the ways he’d failed—himself and his title.
Why can I not do better?
And more appalling yet, if he couldn’t look after himself, what the devil would he do with Sarah? She didn’t deserve the life she would consign herself to, for he wasn’t fit company for anyone. Yet, he needed her. In her, he felt that she’d take him in hand and perhaps pull him from the sucking darkness if only to tell him how wrong he was. Would she remain with him once she knew how mucked up he was as a person, how close to breaking he truly was? Had she only agreed to wed him on an assumption that he would be the strong one?
Oh, God, I’m going to fail her.He shook his head. No. Whatever it took, she would be the one person that he’d impress. Somehow, some way, he would do right by her. He had to, for he suspected that he didn’t deserve her at all, but he wanted to.
It took several minutes of deep breaths for his pulse to stop ratcheting and for his temper to fade to a more manageable level. Then, after straightening his spine, Drew returned to his study. “I apologize for my absence. There are times when I must step away to avoid—”
“I know,” she said in a soft voice. “I’ve seen your battles and witnessed those attacks you have.” When she touched his sleeve, her hand trembled. “Please know I never wanted to add to your concerns.”
It was as if she’d punched a hole in his chest that allowed some of the hot ire out. The sudden surcease of the turbulence staggered him. “Once we wed, you will become a responsibility. That is inevitable.”
“Perhaps, but I’m quite capable. If you cannot seem to interact with me unless you’re yelling or storming off, then we shall live separately. All the benefits of the marriage will apply, except for the begetting of an heir. Obviously, the logistics of that won’t work.”
Was she so anxious to use him for the title that she’d let him go without another thought? The metaphorical hole in his chest closed, and anxiety came swooping back in like a darkened beast. “I am the earl, Miss Copeland, and as such if I tell you to do something, it will happen. There will be no separation until you have borne a son.” Even to his own ears, he sounded like the biggest blowhard alive.
But how to change that without giving into anger?
Sarah glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. “You can’t force respect or compliance, my lord.” She held up the third page of the contract where she’d written in a paragraph. “In the matter of a divorce—”
“That will not happen.” Dear Lord, she was thinking of leaving him! Drew crossed his arms at chest level and glared.
“Perhaps not, but the clause needs to be added all the same, for if you can’t stand to be in the same room with me for the length of time it takes to discuss a contract, it doesn’t give much hope for a lifetime, does it?” Notes of disappointment and resignation threaded through the statement.