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Tobias almost smiled. Hardly damning. Olivia was ruined and trying to act blasé. Being pretentious did not suit her. He could see the curl of fright in her eyes, and something more. He could not place the emotions that trembled on her lips or caused the soft sheen glistening in her eyes, but it made his heart soften, halting the blistering retort. He sucked in a harsh breath when he realized it was vulnerability.

She had always seemed so sure, possessing an acerbic tongue, disdainful of the ton’s mores, never afraid to voice her opinion, even when it was unsolicited. He forgot that she was only twenty-two years of age. “I do not believe you to be inferior to me in any regard, Olivia.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You called me a hoyden.”

He splayed his legs in a more casual repose and folded his arms across his chest. “And?”

“And such an opinion does not imply arrogant superiority on your part? After all, am I not a hoyden in your eyes because I swim and ride astride as you do?” She raised her chin a fraction higher. “You hold such an opinion of me and expect me to marry you?” Her tongue was cutting. “I would rather my reputation be ruined than marry a man who does not like me and wishes to restrict me.”

Interesting. “And what of your sister’s reputation?”

She froze, indecision flashing in her eyes. “Ophelia is eight years of age. When her time is near, nothing will mar her come out.”

“Come now, we both know the power of scandal and its longevity. Your father killed himself years ago, and mine brought the Blade name into shocking disrepute and our estates to the brink of ruin. Society still judges us by their actions. How do you think your sister—and mine—will fare when our scandal roars through the ton?”

Shock settled on her face before she lowered her gaze, hiding her emotions from him. He waited for her to speak but she remained mute. Ah, he would need to be more ruthless.

“You could be with child as we speak,” he said, watching her every expression.

Her head snapped up, and her eyes widened. “I ne…nev—” She paled. “A child? Of course…a child. I never knew…” Her hand instinctively settled on her stomach. “Surely one act of intimacy cannot conceive a child?”

“It can.”

“I pray that isn’t the case!”

“Do you find the thought so distasteful?” he asked icily, remembering his mother’s tears and screams at his father for wanting another child.

“No…I must admit, a child, a family of my own was never something I had given much thought to until my stepfather and mother thrust the notion upon me. Yes, it would be an eventual desire but not now…and not one conceived in a bit of passion.”

Bit of passion? She had damned near ruined his cock for anyone else. He could still taste her on his tongue, feel the ripple of her release. It irritated him that she should have such a hold over his passion. He’d never had any reason to reminisce on a lover’s response as he had done with hers. How he had wished he had been able to see her eyes, see the wet glisten of her lips from his kisses, part her legs and look at her swollen folds. Sudd

en impatience bit him. “It only takes the one occurrence. It would be foolish to waste time to see if you are indeed increasing. By then, the rumors of your downfall will be rampant. I will arrange for a special license.”

Her eyes flashed fire. “I have not consented.”

“I am sure Lord Bathhurst will take care of such formalities for you when I inform him you may even now carry my heir.”

She gasped, spluttered, and then paled. “Surely you would not be so ungentlemanly.”

He arched a brow. “Most assuredly I would.”

“And if he should challenge you?”

“I would spare you the pain of accepting.”

Her green eyes were wary. “I heard your unflattering remark to your brother.” She cocked her head quite gracefully to the side, observing him. “Do you hold any tender regards toward me?” she asked quietly.

It was the last question Tobias ever expected her to ask. But of course, he should have known that beneath the wildness beat a romantic heart like in all young ladies. Hell, maybe she would soon expect him to read poetry to her. “No.”

She nodded. “Then I will not marry you. I’ve always vowed to only marry for love.”

“Why?”

Amusement gleamed in her eyes and he was unaccountably pleased to see it.

“To be contrary. All my life, Mother has impressed on me the many reasons for marriage and not once has she spoken of the more tender sentiments.”

“Sensible woman.”

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