Page 41 of Truly, Madly, Daring

Wrexham grinned, not above feeling smug about it, until he realised what he’d done.

“The devil take me,” he whispered, his heart growing cold.

Emmeline sat up. “What? What is it?”

“I was so carried away I neglected to… take precautions,” he said, raking a hand through his hair.

“Precautions?”

“Against getting you with child.”

“Oh? Oh,” she said, as she understood. “You don’t want a child? That’s why you withdrew the first time?”

He nodded.

She said nothing, and he wished he could see her face, so that he might read her thoughts.

“What?”

“Nothing. Only… Why?”

“You think I would inflict this fate on a child?”

There was a stony silence, and his heart sank at the possibility he’d said something wrong again. Emmeline moved, clearly trying to get up. Wrexham clamped his hands about her waist.

“No. Stop. Don’t go. What did I say?”

“I just hadn’t realised your life was such a horrific ordeal.”

There was a note to her voice he ought to heed, but frustration gnawed at him. This interlude had been exquisite, a gift he’d not believed possible, but that did not mean his life was a pleasant one.

“Well, it’s not exactly fun,” he said, the words rather sharper than he’d intended. “I don’t enjoy being a prisoner, or being treated like a bloody invalid.”

“I should think not. There’s not the least thing wrong with you, other than your sight and a tendency to talk utter rubbish. I know things have been difficult, probably far worse than I know, but all the same, Wrexham. You are astonishing, and capable of so much more than you give yourself credit for.”

“And you think that’s basis enough for siring a child who will inherit the condition?”

“Wrexham,” she said, and she was losing her temper now, that much was evident from her tone and the way her body had become stiff and unyielding. “How many siblings do you have?”

“Four legitimate, another seven bastards. Well, to my knowledge. There may be more. The duke is not shy in that regard.”

Her breath caught. “Good heavens. He really is an appalling human being.”

“No argument here, pet, but what’s your point?”

“Are they older or younger than you?”

He frowned, wondering what she was getting at. “Six older, the rest younger, though not by much.”

“And have any of them lost their sight?”

“No,” he said with a sigh. “But that doesn’t mean—”

“And how many siblings, illegitimate or otherwise, does your father have and how many children do they have between them?”

This took him a while to calculate, for the ins and outs of the late duke’s affairs were legion and his progeny extensive. “Perhaps fifty in all.”

“And only your uncle lost his sight?”