“I would consider it, of course, if that would sway your decision.” A faint blush colored his cheeks. “Despite the scandal and the whispers that will surely follow, yes.”
“I…” She what? Was that selfish? Would refuse to accept him as the man he was when every fiber of her being strained for him to accept her, flaws and all?
“I doubt our children would be able to live down that shame.”
Dear God, he said children!Did that mean he truly wanted to build a life with her? Her heartbeat quickened. Everything was coming at her so fast she couldn’t properly sort it. “That is probably true, and it wouldn’t be fair to them to jeopardize their future and possibly put a rift in the Marsden family. I know what it’s like to grow up with familial animosity and wouldn’t wish that on anyone.” What if I unintentionally harm this child because of my inability to move through the world like a proper ton lady? Responsibility pressed in on her, and she gasped from the magnitude of it.
And even more disturbing, could they survive on a physician’s living? Without the title, they wouldn’t have the coin needed to keep a house in Mayfair. She had no idea what his salary was, for they hadn’t discussed anything of a serious nature during their affair.
He nodded. “However, despite the fact I was raised from birth to assume this very thing, I would do it for you. And God help Trey. He’ll have a more difficult time of it than I would.”
“Oh, Royce.” For one wonderful moment, she teered on the edge of having everything she’d wanted from him—a man without a title, a man she got on with tolerably well, a man who made her fly with his touch and kisses, a man who would be the father of her children—but how heartless could she be if she asked all of that from him? Being the Earl of Worchester was his birthright. It was the connection to his family name. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t all too keen on holding the title himself, it was his, and even now he sought to protect his brother from it.
The longer she regarded him, the more tears filled her eyes, this time out of gratitude. Perhaps love. Her breath caught from the magnitude of that thought. Did she truly love him? And if she did, could she ask him to something so life-changing merely for her? Isobel trembled. He would come to resent her in a different way than he would have had he married her out of obligation, yet the willingness to forego the title had to mean something.
But at no time during this discussion had he declared himself. Her emotional upheaval plunged downward into the depths of despair. The tears started again, and this time they came with sobs that hurt her chest. In desperation, she reached for him. When he wrapped his arms around her, she melted into him with a sigh. “I can’t let you do that. Not for me. Not for anyone.” She clung to him, and her tears wet the superfine fabric of his navy jacket. “Marriage is one thing but giving up your whole history merely so I’ll change my mind is quite another.” Why did he have to feel so good and smell even better? Royce represented safety and excitement, protection and scandal, companionship but a loss of freedom.
Why can I not just be brave and demand to know he feels about me?
“Ah, Isobel.” He pressed his lips to her temple. “You are a study of contrasts, and you’ve distracted me from the first.”
What did that mean? She was too much a coward to ask.
“You’re awfully certain I want to marry you. Obligation or not, title or not, stunning intercourse or not, perhaps I don’t wish to wed you. It’s bad form to assume, you know.”
“There is that.” He grinned, and she melted further.
She pulled back enough to stare into his face. But his wink slightly alleviated some of her worry. “Are you toying with me?” These newest changes in her life would soon carry her away on a tide she wasn’t sure she could come back from. Not without him.
“Oh, indeed. How does it feel now that the shoe is on the other foot, sweeting?”
It was the second time he’d called her by the endearment. Did that mean his emotions had been engaged? “I think we should talk more.”
“And I think you need to rest. I’ve given you much to think about, and knowing you as I do, it’s all become jumbled up and knotted together until you can’t make sense of anything.” Gently, he urged her backward against the pillows, and for one brief second, his body covered hers, sheltered her from life’s battery, but he merely brushed his lips over hers and then straightened. “When you’re ready and have had time to sort everything, send for me. Then we’ll talk.”
She clutched his handkerchief tightly in her hand, but the deluge of emotions had exhausted her. Isobel nodded. “You won’t leave me again?”
“I don’t think I could even if I tried.” The whispered words danced through her head as he slipped from the room and quietly closed the door behind him.
At least there was that.