“Yes. And really, the only hope I have is convincing him that he isn’t actually the father.”
“And you think that will work?”
“It’s the only choice I have. I need your protection.”
He regarded her with dark, fathomless eyes, and yet again, she felt like he was peering at her as though she were a girl, and not a woman at all. A naughty child, in point of fact. Then something in his expression shifted.
It shamed her a little that this was so like when he’d come to her rescue at the party. That she was manipulating his pity for her. Her own pathetic nature being what called to him, yet again.
But she would lay down any and all pride for Isabella and she’d do it willingly.
“If she were in fact my child, then we would be family.”
“I... I suppose,” she said.
“There will need to be photographs of us together, as I would not be a neglectful father.”
“No indeed.”
“Of course, you know that if Isabella were really my child there would be only one thing for us to do.”
“Do I?”
“Yes.” He began to pace, like a caged tiger trying to find a weak spot in his cage. And suddenly he stopped, and she had the terrible feeling that the tiger had found what he’d been looking for. “Yes. Of course, there is only one option.”
“And that is?”
“You have to marry me.”