Page 82 of The Trouble with True Love

He reached for her hands, interrupting this chaotic stream of thought, and she watched as he clasped them in his, his bare fingers entwining with her gloved ones, turning her toward him. “Clara, we have to get married.”

Not so absurd after all.

And yet, oddly enough, it wasn’t quite a proposal.

“Have to?” she echoed, trying to make light of it, striving to think. “Heavens, that’s quite a definitive statement from a man who doesn’t believe in marriage and openly advocates free love.”

“Don’t tease, Clara. This is hard enough.”

It shouldn’t be hard at all, should it?

“You can’t possibly want to marry me,” she said.

“Yes, I do.”

“Don’t!” she ordered fiercely, lifting her head, yanking her hands free of his, every instinct she possessed telling her he didn’t mean that. “Don’t lie, Rex, for God’s sake.”

He inhaled sharply and looked away, confirming that at least in this case her instincts about him were sound.

“Very well,” he said after a moment. “Since you are demanding precise language of me, let me give it. What I want, Clara, is you. I have wanted you ever since you gave me cheek on that ballroom floor. I still want you.”

Now that, she thought with a delicious thrill and hint of relief, was more like what she’d been hoping for.

“And if we were anywhere private,” he went on, “I’d ravish you quick as lightning, whatever the risk, right here, right now, if you let me.”

Laughter bubbled up and came spilling out. “I fear if we were somewhere private, you wouldn’t be the only one doing the ravishing.”

He didn’t seem pleased to hear it. “That’s why we have to marry. You’re not the sort of woman a man can ravish and leave.”

She stiffened, any tendency to laugh vanishing as quickly as it had come. “Are there such women?”

“I think you know there are,” he said, “so please don’t go all prickly on me, Clara. There are mistresses, courtesans—”

“Widows,” she cut in. “Lady Dina Throckmorton, for example. Your friend Lionel seems to think she’s that sort of woman. Is she?”

“Let’s not get into the weeds by talking about Dina and Lionel, all right? Let’s leave them to sort out their own affairs while we sort out ours.”

“But you seem to think that she and I are different, that we deserve different consideration from our lovers,” Clara persisted. “I want to know why you think so.”

“Do you really need to ask? Dina was not an innocent woman and Lionel did not ruin her. I, however, did ruin you, despite all my efforts not to. I tried to stay away from you. God knows, I tried.” Unexpectedly, he gave a laugh, and the harshness of it made her wince. “I failed, as the events of last night so aptly demonstrated.”

She felt cold, suddenly, all her joy in their night together fading. “So, what you are saying is that you wanted me against your will, fought it as long as you could, but having failed and succumbed to your passion for me, you now feel honor bound to offer me marriage, even though you don’t really want to make a life with me, or any woman. Do I have it right?”

She didn’t wait for an answer, but turned away. She’d heard enough.

He wouldn’t let her go. “Not quite,” he said, stepping in front of her. “When I came to you last night, I knew just what I was doing, and what the consequence would be. It was a choice, Clara, one I did not make against my will. It was a free, conscious choice. I wanted you, and I accepted that marrying you was the price I would have to pay to have you.”

“Price?” she echoed in disbelief. “There is no price, Rex. A life with me is not something that can be bought.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“You made a choice for yourself.”

He stirred, looking away. “You could have told me to go. You didn’t. You let me stay. You made a choice as well.”

“I am not disputing that, but you assume that our choice was the same one. It was not. Do you remember,” she went on before he could reply, “what I said that afternoon in the drawing room of my father’s house? When I told you what I wanted for my life?”

“I do, yes. Believe me when I say I have not failed to take that into consideration.”

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