Page 39 of The Right to Remain Single

He cared for her? She was turning this stunning notion over in her mind when her father’s snarl interrupted her reverie.

“In other words, you mean to make my daughter your whore.”

James broke the ensuing silence in a voice so icy she almost didn’t recognize it. “I beg your pardon?”

“You’re worse than Sam,” Papa said. “At least he offers to marry her. Get out of my house, you misbegotten cur!”

Rage swirled up within Thomasina. She stormed into her father’s study. James, tight-lipped and pale, faced her father across the desk.

The purple blotches on Papa’s face deepened. “What the devil do you want, girl?

She set the decanter of brandy on the desk and stared him down. “Don’t you dare ask Mr. Blakely to leave!”

“I’m not asking, I’m ordering, and as for you, Thomasina—”

Thomasina had never been so enraged in her life. “If Mr. Blakely leaves, I shall go with him.”

Papa gaped at her, aghast.

“He will take me to stay with Colin and Bridget.” Thomasina turned to James. “Correct?”

“Of course, Miss Warren.” He smiled faintly. “Your wish is my command.”

Her father wheezed. “Hear me, girl. You may not leave!”

She strove to speak calmly. “Papa, it’s no use ordering me about.”

“Why you, you…” He ran out of breath and shrank, gasping, into his chair. Her heart sank. He was so ill, and—

But she mustn’t give in. If she didn’t stand up for herself now, she never would.

“I’m not a child any longer. I shall leave if I wish.” She pulled the bell to summon his valet.

Her father’s chest fluttered and heaved. He looked so helpless that her heart ached. “But truly, I don’t wish to.” She offered a smile. “Come now, Papa. Think what Mama would have said, if you’d tried to toss someone out on Christmas Eve. If you’re really not long for this world—not that I believe that, mind you—then you’d best be careful, or Mama will make trouble for you at the pearly gates.”

He gave a weak chuckle, but recovered quickly with a glower. “Very well, Blakely may stay—but only till Christmas is over.”

Which was as it should be, she thought sadly. James should leave as soon as possible. Papa might try again to coerce him to marry her.

And yet…he had said he cared for her.

Maybe James had meant exactly what he’d said—that he wouldn’t ask her to marry him, not because he didn’t love her, but because he refused to force her. To insult her. To assume that he knew better.

No. Much as she wished James loved her, she dared not draw such a conclusion. He liked her, and they shared a mutual attraction. He had promised to go to bed with her, whether out of kindness or to fulfill his own desire, or both. Now, he was doing his best to reassure a dying man. If Papa passed away, he would take her to Colin or another married male relative, just as she had asked—for he would put her wishes ahead of a promise to a dead man. It was an honorable way to help her out of an unwanted situation.

Except that what she wanted had changed.

* * *

“You’re here on sufferance, young man,” Mr. Warren said. “I expect you to do your best to get rid of the ghost. No more nonsense about deadly peril.”

“No nonsense at all,” James equivocated.

Mr. Warren narrowed his eyes, but suddenly a sly expression replaced the suspicion. His valet toddled in, and the old man said, “Be off with you. Both of you.”

Thomasina clenched her teeth, turned on her heel and left.

James followed. “Thank you for rescuing me. I feared I might have to find lodgings in the village, but that would have made it difficult to protect you.”