Nine Rules to Break When Romancing a Rake
Page 94
“What the devil is the problem?”
The problem is that you don’t really want me. “I simply see no reason for us to marry.”
“No reason,” he repeated, testing the words for himself. “I would venture to guess that I could name one or two very good reasons.”
She met his eyes finally, unsettled by the conviction in their rich blue depths. “Surely you haven’t attempted to marry every woman you’ve compromised. Why begin with me?”
His eyes widened in shock at her bold words. The emotion was soon replaced by irritation. “Let us resolve this once and for all. You evidently think me far more profligate than I have been. Contrary to what you might believe, I have indeed proposed to every unmarried virgin I’ve deflowered. All one of them.”
Callie flushed at his frank words and looked away, nibbling at her lower lip. He was obviously upset by the situation, and she was sorry for that. But, truthfully, he couldn’t possibly be more upset than she was. She’d spent a glorious evening in the arms of the only man she’d ever wanted, and he’d promptly proposed to her—out of some newfound sense of duty—with all the romance of a side of beef.
And she was supposed to collapse in gratitude for the overwhelmingly generous Marquess of Ralston? No, thank you. She would live out the rest of her days with the wonderful memory of the night before and be happy with that.
She hoped.
“Your honorable actions are duly noted, my lord—”
“For God’s sake, Callie—stop ‘my lording’ me.” Irritation laced his tone, giving her pause. “You realize you could be with child.”
One of Callie’s hands went immediately to her waist at the words. She quelled the intense longing that shot through her at the idea of carrying Ralston’s child. She hadn’t considered the possibility, but how likely could it really be? “I doubt very much that that is the case.”
“Nevertheless, there is a possibility. I won’t have a child of mine born a bastard.”
Callie’s eyes flashed. “Neither would I. But this conversation is rather premature, don’t you think? After all, the risk of such a thing is rather minimal.”
“Any risk is too much of a risk. I want you to marry me. I will give you everything you could ever want.”
You’ll never love me. You never could. I am too plain. Too boring. Nothing like what you deserve. The words whispered through her mind, but she remained silent, instead shaking her head.
He sighed, frustrated. “If you won’t hear reason, I shall have no choice but to have this conversation with Benedick.”
Callie gasped. “You wouldn’t.”
“You have evidently mistaken me for a different man. I shall marry you, and I am not above having your brother force you down the aisle to do it.”
“Benedick would never force me to marry you,” Callie protested.
“It appears we will discover the truth of that statement.” They stood, facing off, eyes sparkling with frustration, for several long moments before his tone softened, and he said, “Would it be that bad?”
Raw emotion burst in Callie’s chest, and she could not immediately reply. Of course, marrying Ralston would not be bad. Marrying Ralston would be wonderful. She’d pined for him for years, watched him longingly from the edges of ballrooms, combed the gossip columns for news of him and his escapades. For a decade, when the doyennes of the ton speculated about the future Marchioness of Ralston, Callie had secretly imagined herself holding court alongside her coveted marquess.
But in all those years, she’d imagined a love match. She’d dreamed that one day he would spy her from across a crowded ballroom or from inside a shop on Bond Street, or at a dinner party and fall madly in love with her. She’d imagined them living happily ever after.
Marriages borne of regret and mistakes did not make for appropriately happy ever afters.
At her age and station, she knew that her best chance of ever marrying and having a family was to accept a loveless marriage, but agreeing to such with Ralston was simply too much to bear.
She’d longed for him for too long to accept less than love. Collecting herself, she said, “Of course it would not be bad. I’m sure you would make a fine husband. I am simply not in the market for one.”
“Forgive me if I don’t believe you,” he scoffed. “Every unmarried female in London is in the market for a husband.” He paused, considering the situation. “Is it me?”
“No.” You’re rather perfect, actually. He was going to push her until she gave him a reason. She gave a little shrug. “I simply don’t believe that we would suit.”
He leveled her with a blank stare. “You don’t think we’d suit.”
“No.” She met his eyes. “I don’t.”
“Why the devil not?”
“Well, I am not exactly your preferred specimen of femininity.”
Ralston paused at her phrasing, looking up to the ceiling as though asking for patience. “Which is?”
Callie gave a frustrated little sigh. Did he have to push her constantly? “You’re really going to make me say it?”
“I really am, Callie. Because, truly, I don’t understand.”
She hated him in that moment. Hated him almost as much as she adored him. She waved her hand in irritation. “Beautiful. Sophisticated. Experienced. I am none of those things. I am the opposite of you and the women with whom you’ve surrounded yourself. I’d much rather read books than go to balls, I loathe society, and I am so lacking in experience in the romance department that I had to come to your house in the dead of night to secure my first kiss. The last thing I want is a marriage with someone who will regret such an arrangement from the moment we speak our vows.” The words came out fast and furious, and she was angry that he’d pressed her into laying bare her insecurities.
The problem is that you don’t really want me. “I simply see no reason for us to marry.”
“No reason,” he repeated, testing the words for himself. “I would venture to guess that I could name one or two very good reasons.”
She met his eyes finally, unsettled by the conviction in their rich blue depths. “Surely you haven’t attempted to marry every woman you’ve compromised. Why begin with me?”
His eyes widened in shock at her bold words. The emotion was soon replaced by irritation. “Let us resolve this once and for all. You evidently think me far more profligate than I have been. Contrary to what you might believe, I have indeed proposed to every unmarried virgin I’ve deflowered. All one of them.”
Callie flushed at his frank words and looked away, nibbling at her lower lip. He was obviously upset by the situation, and she was sorry for that. But, truthfully, he couldn’t possibly be more upset than she was. She’d spent a glorious evening in the arms of the only man she’d ever wanted, and he’d promptly proposed to her—out of some newfound sense of duty—with all the romance of a side of beef.
And she was supposed to collapse in gratitude for the overwhelmingly generous Marquess of Ralston? No, thank you. She would live out the rest of her days with the wonderful memory of the night before and be happy with that.
She hoped.
“Your honorable actions are duly noted, my lord—”
“For God’s sake, Callie—stop ‘my lording’ me.” Irritation laced his tone, giving her pause. “You realize you could be with child.”
One of Callie’s hands went immediately to her waist at the words. She quelled the intense longing that shot through her at the idea of carrying Ralston’s child. She hadn’t considered the possibility, but how likely could it really be? “I doubt very much that that is the case.”
“Nevertheless, there is a possibility. I won’t have a child of mine born a bastard.”
Callie’s eyes flashed. “Neither would I. But this conversation is rather premature, don’t you think? After all, the risk of such a thing is rather minimal.”
“Any risk is too much of a risk. I want you to marry me. I will give you everything you could ever want.”
You’ll never love me. You never could. I am too plain. Too boring. Nothing like what you deserve. The words whispered through her mind, but she remained silent, instead shaking her head.
He sighed, frustrated. “If you won’t hear reason, I shall have no choice but to have this conversation with Benedick.”
Callie gasped. “You wouldn’t.”
“You have evidently mistaken me for a different man. I shall marry you, and I am not above having your brother force you down the aisle to do it.”
“Benedick would never force me to marry you,” Callie protested.
“It appears we will discover the truth of that statement.” They stood, facing off, eyes sparkling with frustration, for several long moments before his tone softened, and he said, “Would it be that bad?”
Raw emotion burst in Callie’s chest, and she could not immediately reply. Of course, marrying Ralston would not be bad. Marrying Ralston would be wonderful. She’d pined for him for years, watched him longingly from the edges of ballrooms, combed the gossip columns for news of him and his escapades. For a decade, when the doyennes of the ton speculated about the future Marchioness of Ralston, Callie had secretly imagined herself holding court alongside her coveted marquess.
But in all those years, she’d imagined a love match. She’d dreamed that one day he would spy her from across a crowded ballroom or from inside a shop on Bond Street, or at a dinner party and fall madly in love with her. She’d imagined them living happily ever after.
Marriages borne of regret and mistakes did not make for appropriately happy ever afters.
At her age and station, she knew that her best chance of ever marrying and having a family was to accept a loveless marriage, but agreeing to such with Ralston was simply too much to bear.
She’d longed for him for too long to accept less than love. Collecting herself, she said, “Of course it would not be bad. I’m sure you would make a fine husband. I am simply not in the market for one.”
“Forgive me if I don’t believe you,” he scoffed. “Every unmarried female in London is in the market for a husband.” He paused, considering the situation. “Is it me?”
“No.” You’re rather perfect, actually. He was going to push her until she gave him a reason. She gave a little shrug. “I simply don’t believe that we would suit.”
He leveled her with a blank stare. “You don’t think we’d suit.”
“No.” She met his eyes. “I don’t.”
“Why the devil not?”
“Well, I am not exactly your preferred specimen of femininity.”
Ralston paused at her phrasing, looking up to the ceiling as though asking for patience. “Which is?”
Callie gave a frustrated little sigh. Did he have to push her constantly? “You’re really going to make me say it?”
“I really am, Callie. Because, truly, I don’t understand.”
She hated him in that moment. Hated him almost as much as she adored him. She waved her hand in irritation. “Beautiful. Sophisticated. Experienced. I am none of those things. I am the opposite of you and the women with whom you’ve surrounded yourself. I’d much rather read books than go to balls, I loathe society, and I am so lacking in experience in the romance department that I had to come to your house in the dead of night to secure my first kiss. The last thing I want is a marriage with someone who will regret such an arrangement from the moment we speak our vows.” The words came out fast and furious, and she was angry that he’d pressed her into laying bare her insecurities.
