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Fairford stood there, stunned into silence for a moment. “Why should you choose…? Well, because—because I…because I can give you what you want,” he blurted, clearly confused.
“Exactly what is it that you think I want?” She cocked her head to one side and waited.
“Why, what every woman wants: a passionate, devoted husband. Not to mention a fine home for you a…and our children,” he added quickly. “I can provide a life of comfort and security. You will never lack for anything. Name it, and it will be yours.”
“And what of Mrs. Childers, your mistress?”
Once more, he was taken aback. “I—I beg your pardon?”
“If I choose to accept your offer, I expect you to keep to my bed—and my bed alone—until two males are born of the union. After that, what you do is a matter of supreme indifference to me. I ask only that you are discreet and that you leave me in peace.”
“So much for sentimentality,” he said with unexpected bitterness. “What you propose is a business arrangement, not a marriage.”
She laughed softly. It was regretful that she had to be so blunt, but he had to understand where she stood on the matter if they were to agree to marry. “Perhaps it is, at that. A husband must provide for his wife’s safety and comfort, and in return she must provide him with heirs and care for their family and home. I should like the relationship to be an amiable one, of course, but unlike the majority of my sex, I don’t delude myself. The lies of ‘true love’ and ‘happily ever after’ are the stuff of children’s stories. I prefer to be pragmatic. Life becomes far less disappointing when one’s expectations are within reason.”
“I should think you’d want to keep such unconventional opinions to yourself, lest you drive away your mark,” he replied indignantly. “After all, a man likes to at least think he’s wanted for more than his purse!”
“I see. Does my honesty wound your heart, then, my lord?” She knew he didn’t love her. But desire would be enough.
“No. But it certainly doesn’t fill me with delight, either.” He peered at her curiously. “You truly have no interest in love?”
“Love is for little girls and sentimentalists. Not for me.”
“Why marry at all, then?”
“I suppose I could take care of my mother until she dies, after which I c
ould choose to live with relatives or become a teacher or governess. But there is no security, no happiness in such a life. I want a home of my own, children to raise, and above all, peace.”
“And in return?”
“My bloodline and dowry, my body to bear your children, and my considerable skills as hostess and chatelaine. Your life as my husband will be a pleasant and comfortable one, my lord. There shall be no contention in your home with me as its keeper.”
“And what of your loyalty?” he asked. “What would bind you to me, if not love? How could I be certain of your fidelity?”
“Rest assured I shall keep my wedding vows. I’ve no interest in romantic entanglements.”
“But what of passion? Has desire no impact on your decision at all?”
She decided to be completely candid. “If it did, I should already be married to Lord Montgomery and we would not be having this conversation. But I am not so foolish as to allow myself to be led by the nose into making a bad decision over a purely physical reaction.”
Her answer gave him pause. “Not many women have such self-discipline,” he said softly, surprising her. “Sentimentality I can live without, but not passion,” he said, edging closer. “And passion is what I feel for you, Sabrina. I’ll admit I didn’t want to feel it, but it exists, nonetheless. I would want it returned in some measure, at least for a while.”
“I should think that over time, it would come of its own volition, my lord. Familiarity should eventually overcome reticence,” she demurred. She would never feel any kind of passion for this man. But she would make certain he never knew it.
“And when will you arrive at your decision?” he asked.
“Selecting a husband is the most important decision of any woman’s life. My choice is one I must live with for the rest of it; therefore, I must decide carefully.”
“Indeed, I could not agree more. But know that I, too, have other options and a choice to make—and I will not wait forever.”
She smiled faintly. “Miss Bidewell.”
“Many women would be more than pleased to accept my offer,” he snarled. “She is certainly not my only other choice.”
“Of course, you must do whatever you think is best,” she said, keeping her face neutral. She’d pricked his pride, apparently. The look in his eyes was cold and ugly. “If you feel someone else will make a better wife, then you must marry her, naturally.” Turning, she began to walk back to the house, forcing her feet to move at a steady march, rather than running.
An arrogant man like him would be unable to resist the need to prove her wrong. And he truly wanted her now. She could have him with a word. But his was a savage desire, untempered by any sort of tenderness. She shivered with the knowledge that he truly wouldn’t care whether or not she loved him, so long as she belonged to him.
