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Yes, that was everything Marcia deserved.And you can’t even give her half of that.There were enough deficits in his character and a blackness to his soul that he couldn’t be the pure, selfless gentleman her father spoke of.

Wessex dropped his hands to the desk and leaned forward. “Can you be that man to Marcia? Can you promise me you’ll give up wagering and womanizing and every immoral thought and replace them instead with thoughts of her and that happiness I speak of?”

Unnerved by the directness of the other man’s piercing stare, as much as by his words, Andrew glanced down at his fingers, which at some point he’d balled into a fist. “I will not give you false assurances about being somehow more than a scoundrel. You know exactly what I am. Marcia does deserve more.” Andrew lifted his gaze and held Wessex’s. “I’m marrying her because that is what she wants and because I’ll do right by her.”

Fury contorted the older man’s face, that emotion ravaging his features and brimming from his eyes. “How much?”

“How much?” Andrew repeated dumbly.

Yanking the center drawer of his desk, Wessex pulled out a page and angrily slammed them on the otherwise immaculate mahogany surface. Then he grabbed a pen, dipped it into the crystal inkwell, and scribbled something onto the sheet. “What is your price?” Wessex demanded, his pen poised over it. “How much do you want to go away?”

Andrew drew back.

Wessex gritted his teeth. “One thousand pounds?”

Marcia’s father was offering to pay him off… to leave her. To rescind the promise he’d made to her a short while ago. Andrew curled his hands around the arms of his chair, the wood biting painfully into his palms as he felt another stare.

Rutland’s gaze was locked on Andrew’s white-knuckled grip, and Andrew made himself relax his fingers, forced them onto his lap in a more casual pose. “No,” Andrew said quietly. “I don’t want your money.” Surprise pulled that admission from him, and perhaps he had more honor than he’d ever believed of himself, because he didn’t want those funds, or the ones his brothers-in-law had promised if he’d just offer for Marcia.

“Five thousand.”

Andrew pressed his lips into a single line to keep from telling Marcia’s father precisely where he could go.

The viscount rested his elbows on the desk, perfectly framing that note. “Thirty-five thousand pounds.”

Andrew choked.

Thirty-five thousand pounds? The other man was offering a fortune. It was nearly as much as what Huntly would turn over, but it would come without that string of marriage attached. Andrew could have those monies, and to hell with Rutland and Huntly’s hanging his funds and properties over him, and yet…

Andrew went absolutely still.

He could not.

To do so would see him secure, but it would also mean Marcia faced the scandal of that discovery on her own. She’d be ruined, and prey to men who’d never offer her anything but an indecent arrangement.

In that moment he was rocked by the discovery that he did in fact care about another person’s happiness beyond his own.

Marcia. He cared about her.

“No,” he said quietly.

“Because you figure her dowry is worth more?” A sound of disgust escaped Wessex. “Well, you shan’t see a goddamned pence of that money, Waters. Those funds will be tied up for her and her children.”

Marcia… and her children.

Just like that, an imagining intruded on what had proven to be a ugly confrontation—a little girl with Marcia’s eyes and golden curls. She’d be a handful, that was a certainty, as much a spitfire as her mother. A wistful smile stole across Andrew’s lips.

“You find this amusing?” Wessex barked.

Andrew’s grin faded, and he leveled a look once more on the enraged viscount. “Despite your opinion of me, no, I do not find this amusing. And that is fine,” he said, coming to his feet. “Write the dowry off for Marcia. She can use it as she sees fit. But I’m going to marry her.”

Wessex’s shoulders sagged, and it was like the life and all happiness drained from the viscount as misery replaced his rage. “You can’t do right by her, Waters, because a man like you will only hurt her.” He looked away. “Now, get the hell out of my sight.”

Andrew brought his shoulders back and bowed.

As he turned on his heel and took his leave, the other man’s words, in all their truths, followed him.

Chapter 16