Page 41 of The Dangerous Lord

“Be careful, Felicity. I tire of your generalizations about ‘men of my sort.’”

She eyed him with disbelief. “You can’t tell me you don’t care at all that I have no family connections or great wealth or⁠—”

“Why should I? I have enough for both of us. That’s not what I want in a wife.”

“Yes, I forgot.” Her fingers clutched at the edges of her wrapper as she struggled to keep it closed. She looked suddenly very young and tormented, her eyes bleak with dismay. “You want a woman to bear your heir.”

“That would be one of your duties, yes.” When she went rigid, he added, “But children are the usual result of indulging one’s desires, and as I recall, you find that particular activity appealing.”

Her gaze shot to his, shadowed with embarrassment. “You said there was nothing wrong with feeling desire.”

“I meant it,” he reassured her, remembering how ashamed her eager response to his caresses had made her. “But admit it—marriage makes desire far more convenient.”

He realized he’d said the wrong thing when her pretty chin quivered. “Yes, marriage would make it convenient, for you as well as me. After all, why rely on two separate women for all your needs—one to bear your children and the other to satisfy your ... your manly urges?” Her voice grew bitter. “Think how convenient it would be to have only one woman serve both purposes. What a revolutionary concept.”

“I’ve never wanted more than one woman at a time,” he ground out, wondering how this discussion had gotten so quickly out of hand. “And yes, I prefer to have a wife I can desire. Although I’d previously resigned myself to a comfortable, if passionless, marriage, I now realize I can have more. Is there anything wrong with that?”

“I don’t know.” She stuck her chin out. “What would Miss Greenaway think?”

The air crackled between them, fraught with sudden tension. He should have seen the question coming. If he’d been this dense during the war, he would have got himself neatly killed half a dozen times. That he hadn’t anticipated her objections was a testimony to how much she and her adorable body had disconcerted him.

Carefully, he weighed his words. “Her opinion is of no matter.”

“Oh? Then what role will she play in this marriage?”

“None at all.” Sheer exasperation sharpened his tone. “I told you before—the woman is not my mistress. I’m helping her and her son, nothing more.”

“You still expect me to believe that fairy tale about her brother being your soldier friend?” When he glowered at her, she added, “I realize you told the truth about fighting for England—I can hardly ignore the assertions of a man like Wellington. But I know you’re lying about Miss Greenaway’s connection to you. I’m not a fool, you know.”

“Of course not.” Sarcasm edged his words. “You’re much too intelligent to believe in my generosity or loyalty to a friend.”

A pained expression crossed her face. “I deserve that, I suppose, but you’re wrong—I can believe many good things about you. What I can’t believe is that Miss Greenaway would have refused to set me straight concerning your kindness. Any woman in her position would have defended you at once. Or gone to the Gazette after the article was published to demand a retraction.”

Why must the woman be so bloody logical? “Miss Greenaway understands, as you do not, that I prefer to keep certain aspects of my past out of the newspapers.”

“And secret from your prospective fiancée?”

He groaned. “Damn it, Felicity⁠—”

“I want to know what she is to you.” Hurt dulled her green eyes, and when she spoke again, her voice cracked. “I-I don’t think it’s an unreasonable request, considering your proposal to me.”

It hit him then. My God, the woman was jealous! Though that absurdly pleased him, it also complicated matters. He was sorely tempted to tell her the truth and put an end to her foolish concerns.

But that would require more than a simple explanation of how he knew Miss Greenaway. He’d have to explain why he was helping the woman, why she was necessary to his plans for his uncle, and why he and his uncle were enemies. He’d have to entrust London’s most notorious scribbler with the scandalous details of his life. And he’d have to do it without even being sure it would gain him her hand. No one in their right mind would agree to that.

Still, he wouldn’t let her jealousy stand between them.

He advanced on her with grim determination. “I’ll tell you what Miss Greenaway is not. She’s not my mistress nor any temptation to me. Her son isn’t mine, or I would have claimed him long ago. Most importantly, what she is to me has nothing to do with you. She will never have any influence over our marriage. That’s all you need to know.”

Anger flared in her face. “You won’t even tell me how you met her?”

“No.” He paused a few feet from her, deliberately softening his tone. “Trust me, there’s no reason why her mere existence in a house that I own should concern you.”

“And that’s your final word on the subject?”

“Yes.”

“Then my answer is no.”