Page 62 of Real Earls Break the Rules

Honor. That’s what was behind his offer? The part of her that was thrilled at the prospect withered. She’d never wanted to marry, only to pursue her art. If she did find herself standing before an altar and a priest she was determined to marry for love.

Not honor.

But Brandon was different. She’d come to know him. He had an abundance of honor and pride—with the children at the mill, with his concern for his tenants, and with his love for his sisters and grandmother. Lord Vale wanted to do the right thing.

He’d taken her virginity and now he felt like he had to do right by her by asking Huntingdon for her hand.

It wasn’t enough. How long before he regretted his decision? Before his financial troubles haunted him and he regretted not proposing to Minerva or another woman with blue bloodlines and an overflowing dowry?

She took a deep breath. “My answer is no.”

“Why?” he demanded.

“It’s impractical. I told you, I don’t want to marry. I want to paint the subjects of my choosing and have my own art exhibition, remember? I’ve never heard of a countess having her own art show.”

He hesitated for a heartbeat, and for that brief moment, she knew what he was going to say. “I won’t stand in the way of your art, I only ask that you keep painting under a false name.”

She felt an instant’s squeezing hurt, a sorrow that was a painful knot inside her. He knew of her dream, knew what it meant to her. “You’re ashamed of my work?” she said, her voice hoarse.

“Never. I admire your aspirations.”

She read the truth in his eyes. “You’re concerned for your sisters and your grandmother.” Her sketches of the poverty-stricken were shocking in their honesty. After she painted and displayed them, her work would most likely be considered scandalous among the upper class.

He gave a curt nod. “The topic of your paintings may inflame society and harm my family.”

She must never forget he was the Earl of Vale. If she married Brandon, then she’d have to continue painting under fictitious names. She’d hated doing it before, and now that she no longer had to sell her work to put food on the table by pleasing the clientele of the print shop, she would have to continue the charade in order to be with him. She would never have an art exhibition. She wouldn’t be able to speak with art critics or the press, and she would never be able to stand beside one of her paintings in the Royal Academy. Worst of all, she’d never be considered a serious artist, only the daughter of a forger.

No. Never again.

But despite the unfairness of it all, she understood his concerns for his grandmother and his sisters. How could she not? Eliza and Chloe were dear to her.

Lifting her chin, she met his green gaze. “You don’t have to act honorably. Huntingdon will never know what happened between us.”

“But I know. I took your innocence.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You didn’t take my virginity. I gave it to you. I’m a grown woman who knew the risks. No one else knows, and I don’t require you to behave honorably.”

He stepped close and trailed a finger down her cheek. His eyes smoldered. “We desire each other. Tell me you don’t feel the spark every time I touch you.”

Despite her annoyance, she shivered at his touch. “Lust is not a basis for marriage.”

“It’s more than my parents shared.”

She recalled what little he’d spoken of his parents. Theirs was a cold marriage and neither parent had been interested in their offspring. Her own mother had died when Amelia was young and she had no memories of her parents’ relationship. She only knew that her father hadn’t started forging paintings until after her mother had passed. She didn’t want a marriage based on convenience or honor.

Pain squeezed her heart, and she shook her head regretfully and stepped away. “I’m sorry, my lord, but it’s not enough for me. Good night.”

She turned and went to the hidden panel in the door. She could feel his eyes boring into her as she walked away, but thankfully he didn’t stop her.

The latch clicked and she stepped into the passage.

…

Amelia had rejected him.

Brandon poured himself a drink and sat behind his desk. He’d missed her terribly over the course of two days. She’d been occupied with the women, and he’d been hunting and fishing with the men. It had given him time to think, and he realized just how different she was from all the women of his past. He enjoyed talking with Amelia as much as he craved holding her in his arms…of making sweet, sensual love to her.

Only days of the house party remained, and she was close to finishing her work. Too soon she’d leave Rosehill and return with her sisters to London. He’d be left alone in his study without her passionate kisses and her intelligence and wit. Only his numerous ledgers and business troubles would remain.