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“What time is it?” she asked softly.
He frowned believing she must be thinking about leaving him already. He didn’t want her to leave just yet. Glancing over at the small clock on his night-stand, he answered, “A little before midnight.”
Her smile fell. “I need to leave.”
“Why?”
“My aunt was out for the evening but will return soon. I must be there when she arrives.”
“Very well.” He wrapped his arms around her again. “But first, how did you end up in the canal?”
She giggled softly. “I was staring at the water.”
“Well, yes you were,” he said with a deep chuckle. “But why and how did that cause you to end up in the water?”
“Some boys ran by and knocked into me. I was leaning over so far that I lost my balance and fell in.”
He frowned. “But why were you staring at the water so far over the balustrade?”
“Sometimes staring at the water helps me focus.”
“Focus on what?”
She sighed. “Me. My future.”
“And what did you see for yourself?”
She went silent for a long moment. “Nothing,” she finally answered quietly. “I saw nothing. There is nothing for me.”
And that answer revealed more than she probably wanted him to discover. He wondered why such a vibrant woman would feel as if there was nothing in life for her. “So was that why you decided I was the man to lose your virginity with?”
“And if it was?” she whispered as her fingers splayed across his chest.
“Do you think it was the right reason?”
“I think you are too concerned with what I gave you.”
“It should have been your husband’s gift, not mine.” He felt her eyelashes blink rapidly on his chest. A tear fell, damping him.
“I wonder if I shall ever marry,” she said so quietly he almost did not hear.
“Why?”
“I am twenty-six, twenty-seven in a few months. Far too old for most men.”
“Is that so?” He laughed. “I happen to know of three women who married about the age of twenty-six and one at twenty-eight. All married well.”
“Not where I am from,” she commented and then glanced away from him with a frown.
“And where would that be?” he asked softly, praying she would give him real information about herself.
“Nowhere important,” she replied.
Unfortunately, she was right. Learning more about her would only drive him mad when he had to leave. The woman was Italian and probably Catholic. His father would have an apoplexy if he brought home a Catholic from his travels. Nicholas understood his father’s expectation. As a marquess and future duke, the right wife was vital. She had to be someone in Society who would give him heirs and have her charity work to keep her busy while he attended Parliament.
Sophia was not that type of woman.
With Sophia, he would never want to leave their bed. Even after making love with her twice this evening, he desired her again. No woman had ever done that to him. He rolled her over onto her back and stared down at her gray eyes.
