Page 43 of Married to a Scandalous Spinster
Well, that was something. At least she hadn't reverted to her old formality.
Wyatt nodded his thanks to the footmen as they slipped silently into the room and deposited a plate of venison pastries in front of each of them. Wyatt sipped his wine, waiting for the servants to disappear before beginning to speak.
“I need an heir,” he said, cursing himself for his bluntness.
A smile quirked on Gemma's lips. “I thought we addressed that matter last night.”
Wyatt returned her smile. “Well, yes.” It boded well that she was willing to speak of their night together—and with a smile on her face at that. It suggested she did not regret it, as he had feared. “But of course?—”
“There is little chance of me finding myself with a child after just one night with you,” Gemma finished. She took a hurried mouthful of wine, as though to steady herself.
Wyatt swallowed. “Indeed.”
For several moments, Gemma was silent. She picked up her knife and fork and cut into the pastry, without bringing it to her mouth. Wyatt wondered what she was thinking. Had she ever considered becoming a mother before? He knew well that her plans for life had not involved a husband or children. How must it feel to have had her existence so abruptly overturned?
Nonetheless, here they were. He needed an heir from Gemma. It was a non-negotiable thing. But he was determined to make things as easy for her as possible. Wyatt turned the stem of his wine glass, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. This was to be a delicate conversation, for certain, and it would do him no good to go crashing headlong into the matter as he seemed to be doing so far.
“With the goal of securing an heir in mind, I have a proposal to make,” he began. His words came out sounding far more businesslike than he had intended. But then again, he supposed that was for the best. No doubt such an approach would appeal to the level-headed Gemma.
“A proposal?” she repeated.
“Yes.” He folded his hands in front of him on the table. “I know you never wished to marry or to be tied down to a husband and family.” Gemma gripped her wine glass, her lips parted slightly, as though she had no thought of where this was headed. “So I am willing to give you that.”
She laughed incredulously. “And how exactly do you plan to do that? The thing is done. I am already your wife, in case you had forgotten.”
Wyatt ignored her sudden sharpness. “Yes. But once you provide me with a son, I will give you back the freedom you desire.” Wyatt glanced down at his food but made no move to pick up his cutlery. “As you may know, my family has a sizeable estate in Devon. It can be yours if you wish it. And you will have the freedom to read or learn or travel, or whatever it is you wish to do with your time. I will see to it that your lifestyle is well funded.”
Gemma was staring at him, slightly wide-eyed. “Devon,” she repeated.
“Yes. Or if that is not to your liking?—”
“Devon is perfectly to my liking,” she said abruptly.
Wyatt swallowed. “Good.” Whydoes this feel anything but good?
For long moments, Gemma didn't speak. She picked her napkin up off her lap and began to fold it into miniscule triangles. “And once I have been removed to Devon,” she said crisply, “what exactly are you proposing might be my relationship with my son? And any daughters we might produce while attempting to give you an heir?”
The chill in her voice made the muscles in Wyatt's neck tighten, but he pressed on. He had spent long hours thinking through this proposal; trying to come to arrangement that would both secure him the heir he needed, and give Gemma the freedom she desired. He had imagined she might be a little more open to the proposal. Grateful, even.
“Your relationship with our children will be entirely determined by you,” he said, attempting what he hoped was a genial smile. “I would never seek to keep you from them.”
Gemma gave a faint nod. She picked up her knife and fork again and sliced another sliver off her pastry. “Well,” she said brusquely, “that sounds like a perfectly suitable arrangement, Your Grace. You have obviously thought this through very carefully.” She dabbed at the corner of her mouth with her napkin, then placed it carefully beside her plate. “You may visit my bedchamber tonight as you see fit.”
Chapter Twenty
Gemma could not make sense of why she felt so hollow or make any sense of the ache in her chest. She had meant what she had said at dinner: Wyatt had clearly thought this proposal through carefully. And yes, she could see that it ought to make her happy. After all, Wyatt had heard from her own lips how averse she was to marriage. And here he was providing her with a way out; offering her the life of freedom she had desired for so long. Surely it was the perfect arrangement.
Good Lord, am Icrying? What iswrongwith me?
Gemma wiped her tears away hurriedly and pulled the bedclothes up to her chin. She knew Wyatt would appear at her door soon, and there was no way in heaven's name she was going to let him see her tears.
She lay on her back, staring up at the canopy. In light of Wyatt's proposal, even the thought of him sharing her bed—which last night had made her utterly helpless with desire—felt cold and businesslike. Of course, with the cold clarity of hindsight, she could see he had only behaved the way he had last night in an attempt to woo her; an attempt to secure the heir he sodesperately needed. But she could not deny that, in the flickering lamplight of the library, his advances had felt like so much more.
But you do not wantmore!
She wanted a life free of husband. A life of freedom. Of being her own person, and answering to nobody, least of all the expectations of theton. She wanted everything Wyatt was offering.
Don't I?
