Page 17 of The Virgin and the Viscount

“Tilly, whatever you’re about to say, don’t,” he said, lowering his deep voice so that only she could hear him. “The truth is I inadvertently took liberties with you and now it is my responsibility to marry you to restore your reputation. Allow me to be the gentleman here.”

“I shall consider it.”

“It would have been nothing had I merely stayed on the floor. Then there would have been no liberties in question.” He took a deep breath. “I was comforting you, if you recall.”

“So this is my fault?” she hissed. Of course he would find a way to make this her fault! The arrogant man.

“That is not what I said. I take full responsibility for what happened.” His eyes flickered to her chest and for a moment it appeared as if he were gazing at her breasts. He looked back up at her face. “Regardless of what transpired behind that door, the person who saw us has made her own assumptions.”

Tilly glared at him.

She crossed her arms over her chest feeling far too aware of the fact that her breasts were rather small. “I was most assuredly not fishing for a marriage proposal. The idea of us being married is absurd. We hate each other and will likely drive each other mad.”

He blew out a breath, then said drolly, “I’m sure marriage will be a burden for both of us, but I will somehow manage to bear it if you can. After all, isn’t this what you wanted? For me to do the right thing and take action?”

“I meant that you should be socially responsible! You know that.”

“What is it you would have me do? I know it doesn’t conform to your opinion of me as a selfish, lazy cad who is interested in little more than my own pleasure, but I refuse to let you ruin your reputation out of stubborn pride. Not when it’s my fault your reputation is in danger.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Well, you can’t have it both ways!” he said loudly. He glanced over at their parents talking on the other side of the room, then lowered his voice. “I will not stand idly by and watch the gossip mongers destroy you when there is a simple solution.”

“It is not your fault. Neither of us is to blame and therefore it is ridiculous that we should both be saddled in a marriage that will likely make us both miserable.”

“Calm down, Freckles,” he chided her. “Rest assured I have no intention of being trapped with you for the rest of our lives. If, in six months, you still find my presence abhorrent, I’ll move to one of my country estates and we’ll live separately.”

Before she could respond to his unexpected offer, her parents walked over. “Lord Glenbrook, you are an exceptionally honorable and sacrificial man. We do thank you,” her mother said.

Tilly rolled her eyes heavenward. Good gracious, her mother acted as if Sullivan offering to marry Tilly was the equivalent to Abraham taking his son Isaac to be slaughtered. Weren’t mothers supposed to flatter their own children rather than behave as if it were the greatest of sacrifices to find a willing man to marry her?

“Nonsense,” Sullivan said. “Marrying your daughter will be my pleasure.” He shifted his gaze back to Tilly and retrieved her hand. Dropping one kiss to her hand, he bowed, then turned to leave.

What had just happened?

What the devil had he been thinking?

He was never supposed to marry. Not having a family of his own was to be his penance for the things he had seen, the things he had done. He was no better, no stronger, no more capable than any other man. He was just lucky. And his luck was amplified by his wealth, because he had been farther from the front line. Therefore, he’d seen a lot of men die. Men who already had families.

He’d never again wanted to be responsible for another person and now he’d managed to saddle himself with one simply because he’d stepped up to do the honorable thing.

This was what happened when he didn’t sit idly by. No matter what he did, trouble ensued.

“Matilda is lovely,” his mother said from across the carriage.

He felt the pulse in his neck tap-tap-tapping at the mere mention of her. “Yes, she is lovely.”

“In an unconventional way, of course. I don’t suppose she could be considered truly beautiful with her freckles and teeth. But she is certainly pleasant to look upon and seems sweet of temperament. Much more so than her sister.” His mother’s facial features pinched at her mention of Melanie, Thomas’s wife.

“I’ve always thought of Tilly as beautiful.” Was she the great beauty that their mutual friend Agnes was? No, but still there was something compelling in Tilly’s unique features, and he’d always been attracted to her. That midnight admission of love she’d mistakenly given him instead of his brother had stuck with him for years. She’d been the tender age of ten and eight at the time. Her wide green eyes set in that fair face with freckles kissing every inch of her skin, her cinnamon-colored hair and her tall, lithe figure…yes, Tilly was quite beautiful.

He could not afford to think about how damned good it had felt being pressed against her in that bed, especially not while in the close confines of a carriage with his mother. Yet every time he remembered the feel of Tilly’s bottom against his hard shaft and her soft breast against his palm—

Or how her hand had reached behind and gripped his erection. He squinted and looked out the carriage window in an attempt to distract himself.

She clicked her tongue. “Your poor brother saddled with that shrew of a woman. And she cannot even bear him any children. The man is simply miserable,” his mother said.

“There are plenty of unhappy marriages in town. Thomas is not the only one.”

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