He'd gotten it all wrong. An ache of hurt and sadness had him going utterly still.
To think. He should be celebrating. After all, he'd been planning to propose. This was exactly what he wanted, and also?—
It was everything he'd ever wanted to avoid. His parents' cold marriage that had ended the moment all duties were done. The resulting child—a necessary evil that neither had actually wanted.
"What about an heir?" he found himself asking.
His voice sounded far too gruff. Almost rude.
She blinked a few times, but recovered quickly. "Of course. I will meet all the necessary marital…requirements."
Bile rose up and it took every ounce of his will to fight down the nausea. Necessary requirements. That was how she saw spending time with him? Being intimate?
He dropped his head, bracing his hands on his thighs.
She hurried on faster now. "I won't ask much in return." Her tone held a note of pleading. All the evidence he needed that she was, indeed, desperate. He was her final option.
"I ask only for respect," she said quickly. She'd rehearsed this, clearly. "And for the freedom to live my own life within the marriage. I won't be a burden to you. I know you value your independence, and I have no wish to?—"
"Clarissa." His voice came out rough. "Stop."
Her lips pressed together, and her chin lifted slightly, bracing.
He should tell her now. Right now. About his father and Clementine and the lie and the threat and all of it. The words were there. But what she'd just described…
"Is that what you want?" he asked.
His eyes searched her face as she stared back at him. Did she mean it? Did she truly want nothing more from a husband than independence?
He thought back to every conversation they'd had on the topic. He'd known from the start that she hadn't been looking for a love match. Merely a practical one.
One in which she had some say in who she married.
"I— I think—" She stopped short. "Yes. This is what I want."
Any remaining hope he'd had turned to ashes. He nodded, unable to hold her gaze lest she see how much he was hurting.
"You've thought this through." His voice sounded strange. Distant.
"I believe it's the logical choice for us both," she said quietly. "It's…it's a sensible pairing."
A sensible pairing. A bitter laugh choked him. She might be talking about what wine to serve with a particularly rich meal, or what ribbon would go with her gown. And for a moment a question was on the tip of his tongue. It was the same question he'd asked when they'd first become acquainted?
What do you want, Lady Clarissa?
But he didn't wish to hear the answer. Because she'd already told him, hadn't she?
And she'd never once spoken of love or passion or laughter or… Or him. She'd never once indicated that she wanted him.
He stared at his hands as his lungs grew painfully tight. If he told her now how he felt?—
Would she accept his feelings? Or would it be a burden?
He swallowed hard.
He suspected he knew the answer. She was asking for a loveless marriage. A business arrangement.
Any talk of love on his part wouldn't just be unwanted. It could very well be a breach of contract.
