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“Forgive me. I was keen on convincing you and I thought it would make for a good argument.”
Jenny was annoyed by his assumption. “Because there is no distinction between me and all the women that marry men for their fortunes.”
“Jenny, that is not what I meant.” There was sincerity in his eyes and she felt her ire ebbing away.
“Fine. I believe you.”
“What changed your mind now?” he returned her question. “You were quite adamant.”
“Your grandmother made me see things from a different angle.” He frowned and she quickly added, “She didn’t force me. I decided to marry you of my own accord.”
One side of his mouth tilted into a rakish smile. “Does that mean you find me tolerable?”
Heat began to rise up her cheeks. “Hardly,” she murmured. “I find your title more tolerable.”
He laughed. “If you weren’t standing before me, I would swear those words did not come from you.”
Her hand was on the table and he picked it up, his eyes boring into hers. “I want you to know that I appreciate your sacrifice and I willnotlet you down.” He kissed the back of her hand and a tendril of pleasure traveled from the spot he had kissed to the rest of her body.
Her breathing quickened as desire began to spread through her. It was just a kiss on her hand, and nothing more. She should not be responding to him like this. Jenny removed her hand from his and picked a poetry book from a stack on the table. Being with him like this was dangerous.
“You are courting me, are you not?” she asked, giving him the book.
“We are engaged so a courtship is not necessary, but if that is what you want, I will be happy to oblige.”
“Then read us some verses from that book, please.” She turned and began to return to her seat.
He glanced down at the small volume. “This is Wordsworth’s work.”
“Yes, and you will find it interesting.” There! She had just prevented a disaster from happening.
Nicholas sat down and opened the book, clearing his throat. Ernest looked up from his food and inclined his head, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.
“The Child is father of the man…”he began to read.
As Jenny listened, she realized it spoke of the happy childhood they’d had. The late duke might have been a cruel man but Nicholas had been happy at some point. She yearned for those lost years, yearned to have that light that had been sniffed out back in his eyes.
“You make quite the romantic,” Ernest commented after Nicholas had finished reading.
“I did it for Jenny.”
“Nicholas—” The butler’s knock interrupted what she was saying.
“Sir Phineas, my lady,” he announced.
