Page 92 of The Duke's Inconvenient Bride
Emma’s lips curled slightly, as if she was amused against her better judgment. “Violet is not what one would consider low maintenance.”
Vaughan shrugged. “Money, I’m happy to give.”
It was his heart he wasn’t willing to share.
“What about compliments?” Emma asked. “Violet has always needed those.”
“Not so difficult.” Not compared to risking something deeper. “It helped that she was popular among society. As you may have noticed, I’m not always adept at social niceties, and I believed she would be able to ease my way at social gatherings.”
“She would be good at that,” Emma said, her face not giving away how she felt about it.
Vaughan rested his hand on Emma’s blanket-covered leg. “Violet would have been convenient, and she wouldn’t have tempted me to want more than I should.”
At this, Emma stiffened. Her gaze locked on his, questioning.
He mentally fortified himself. He’d never shown so much of himself to another person, but in order to help her overcome whatever insecurities she was harboring, it must be done.
“You, on the other hand, are a most inconvenient wife,” he told her, never letting his eyes leave hers. “You make me want things I can’t have.”
Emma’s heartwas about to beat out of her chest. She gripped the blankets because the alternative was to grab him.
“Are you saying… that you’re attracted to me?” she asked, impressed with herself for being brazen enough to voice the question.
She’d never quite been sure where she stood with Vaughan in that regard. He seemed to find her pleasing in bed, but he wasn’t very vocal outside of that.
“I’m surprised it’s not obvious,” he said, “considering that I intended to leave Ashford Hall several days ago and haven’t yet been able to bring myself to do it.”
Somehow, Emma felt simultaneously sick at the thought of his departure and thrilled by the possibility that he was as enchanted by her as she was by him.
“That, and the fact that I sat by your side like a faithful dog while you were ill with the fever,” he added, his expression wry.
Unable to hold back for any longer, Emma reached for his hand. He didn’t physically pull away, but she sensed his emotional withdrawal like the crack of a whip. Her stomach dropped.
“I don’t understand. If we’re mutually attracted to each other, and I assure you, I am also attracted to you”—her cheeks heated at the admission—“then why can’t we indulge in the attraction and see where it leads?”
Now Vaughan did extract his hand from hers. He shifted to the side, creating a space between them that usually wouldn’t have been significant, but to Emma at this moment, it seemed like an uncrossable void.
“I never wanted a love match.” His voice was gentle. “Idon’twant one.”
She flinched. Was he saying that their attraction didn’t change anything? That he was prepared to just ignore it? If so, was that simply out of habit? Perhaps he could be persuaded to try.
“Why?” she asked. “Why are you so against love matches?”
He set his mouth in a grim line. For a moment, she didn’t think he would answer, but when he did, she was left even more confused.
“My father married my mother for love.” His voice held a bitterness that she’d never heard from him before.
“Oh.” Was that somehow a bad thing? Had his mother been beneath the duke socially and it had caused problems?
“He adored her.” Vaughan shook his head, gazing into space. “He worshiped the ground she walked on, and in return, she made him miserable.”
Her gut hardened. Somehow, she knew this wasn’t a happy story.
“How so?”
“She cuckolded him over and over again. I became aware of it when I was young. I witnessed her with another man.”
“Oh, Vaughan. I’m so sorry.” It wasn’t enough, but she didn’t know how to comfort him. No young boy should be forced to live with that knowledge.
