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“But I had to put it aside and save myself.”
“Save yourself?”
“Yes.”
“By breaking into my home?”
“I know what you are about,” she whispered. “I have fallen into the same trap as Jenna. You mean to use the private letter I wrote to you and show my brother in a bid to force my hand.”
“Ah, so you are here for that letter…to save yourself from marrying me.”
There was a throb of emotion in his voice that she did not understand. It was as if she had wounded him at this moment. “Ethan?”
“Is the idea of marrying me that unpalatable?”
“If you do not love me, yes.” The words felt as if they were pushed from her throat.
“Christ, there is more to a marriage than love, Charity! Many men and women marry and are quite successful, and it has nothing to do with this nonsensical notion that you have.”
She lifted her chin, hating that her lips trembled, and her throat ached. “Nevertheless, that is my criteria for marrying. And that you would try to steal my choice from me and to force me into a union for something as cold as honor is beneath you.”
His expression darkened. “Beneath me? What would be beneath me is that I thoroughly ravished an innocent lady, ruining her for all prospects of a future marriage, and who might now be carrying a child, and I damn well cannot walk away because she has these romantic illusions about what a marriage really is! I would be a dishonorable cad.”
Charity's heart jolted with uncertainty, and she placed her hand against the flat of her belly. “A baby?” It never occurred to her that their brief interlude of passion might have resulted in a child.
A brief flash of hunger crossed his face. “Yes, my baby…our baby.”
The sudden ache in her chest became a physical thing, and those dreams once again stirred hungrily to life. Charity met him in the center of the room and stared up at his harsh features. “You might not understand the need I have to marry someone who loves me. I do, Ethan. I do not wish to be like so many ladies I see about the ton attending balls night after night while their husbands are at their clubs or with their mistresses. Most marriages are carried out like business transactions where each person leads their own lives and even affairs. That is so cold and ugly to me, Ethan. I want warmth and laughter, and joy. I want to dance my dances with my husband, and I want him to want to come home to me. I want…I want to love the person I marry, and I want him to love me. That is my hope. If I cannot have that, I am happy to not marry.”
He stilled, seemingly allowing her words to sink inside of him. Finally, he asked, “What if your future husband will not have you because you are compromised?”
“Perhaps if he has had previous lovers, I will be the one to not have him,” she said pertly.
They stared at each other for several moments, and then he walked away to a small desk she had not seen in the corner, opened it and retrieved her note. Strolling back over to her, Ethan held it out and said, “Take it. Burn it or tear it up.”
Charity stared at it and was aghast to feel tears pooling in her eyes. “Oh, bloody hell,” she cursed, looking rather unladylike as her tears spilled over.
“Why are you crying?” he demanded gruffly.
She looked up at him, uncaring that she had made herself vulnerable to him at this moment. “I do not want to burn or rip it up…this was my very first letter to any gentleman. I…it feels silly, but I do not want it destroyed.” She wanted it to be cherished and locked away in a box.
Ethan gently folded the letter. “Thank you for entrusting me with it. As this was also my first letter I have ever received from a lady, I shall keep it well and never share it with another.”
Her eyes widened. “Truly?”
“Yes.” He closed his eyes briefly. “I will also cancel my appointment with your brother.”
Those words cut deeply, shocking her. Charity had thought she would have been happy with his decision. Why did she not feel relieved?
“I also withdraw my offer of marriage, and I will not burden you to make it again.”
Everything inside of her stilled, and for a wild moment she felt afraid to move, lest she shattered. She released a soft sigh for she understood now that he did not believe himself capable of loving her, so he would not chase and trap her into a marriage she did not want. She almost wailed her denial. She took a deep breath, drawing the scent of him into her lungs.
“I understand,” she whispered, calling up on all her of willpower to not crumple. She wanted to thump his chest and demanded to know why he couldn’t fall in love with her just a little bit. She would have taken even the smallest measure of love or affection beyond lust, for that kernel or seed could grow into a large, beautiful, and stalwart tree that could weather the fiercest storms.
His expression was hard and so inscrutable, with nothing tender in his eyes. It astonished her that only several days ago she had given him herself.
“I missed our conversations,” he said unexpectedly. “These last few days apart, I….”
