“What is it that you want?” he asked, seeming as though he really wanted to know. “What do you think that a marriage to me would keep you from accomplishing?”
Silence fell between them as her mind raced to come up with an answer.
Before, she would have known exactly what to say. The faceless “husband” that she’d always envisioned was a member of the ton, a stodgy old earl who would never allow her to speak her mind or continue her charity work. He would use her money to finance a new roof on some crumbling old country manor house or gamble it away at the exclusive clubs she’d never be allowed to enter.
But she couldn’t imagine Quinn doing any of those things. He would never try to control her, never keep her from doing whatever she wanted with her money. In fact, she feared the opposite was true. He probably wouldn’t want to touch a cent of her inheritance. Could she really live in his small but cozy house in Bethnal Green? Without any servants or the luxuries she knew she took for granted?
She just didn’t know.
With a sigh, he leaned forward, cradling her face between his hands as he pressed a sweet, passionate kiss upon her lips. He drew back far before she wanted him to.
“I came here today because I wanted you to know that I will marry you if that’s what you want. But I also need to tell you that if that’s not what you want, we can’t see each other anymore. I think I’ve been clear about what I need, so now it’s time for you to figure out the same.”
Is he saying that he wants to marry me?
He stood, pressing a hand to his head, and she wished that she had the right to take care of him. He’d been working too hard, sleeping too little. She wanted to tuck him into bed for several days and feed him and coddle him. She sensed that no one had ever really done that for him before.
She also knew that he was stubborn and would resist. He was a wonderful caretaker but would make a bad patient. Still, she wanted to try.
“Quinn, please don’t go,” she pleaded, feeling as though she’d said everything wrong. She felt as though she’d disappointed him, but she wasn’t exactly certain how.
He shook his head, backing up a few more steps. “I need to go home and rest, and you have a lot of thinking to do.”
She wished she could insist that he come upstairs and sleep in her bed. She’d love nothing more than to snuggle into his arms while he slept. But he was right. If she didn’t want to marry him, she had no right to do any of the other things she wanted to do with him.
“All right,” she told him softly. “Sleep well, Quinn.”
He nodded and strode from the room, leaving her alone to make what just might be the hardest decision of her life.
* * *
QUINN WAS IN A TERRIBLE mood after he left Allison. He had a splitting headache, he hated that the killer had struck again, and he hadn’t gotten any of the responses he’d wanted from Allison.
He'd wanted so badly to just stretch out upon Lady Aston’s sofa and place his head in Allison’s lap, letting her tenderly rub his forehead while he drifted off to sleep. He had a feeling she’d have done that for him if he’d asked, but he’d felt it was important to let her know that they couldn’t keep doing this. They couldn’t keep sharing such intimacies without being married. Maybe she didn’t care about what people thought of her, but he cared very much. He couldn’t bear the fact that her own mother had called her a trollop.
All he wanted to do was protect her, but he had a very bad feeling she wasn’t going to let him. He feared she needed her freedom much more than she needed him. And he couldn’t blame her. What did he have to offer her that she couldn’t provide much better for herself?