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Mary nodded. ‘I will miss my family.’

This was not the jubilation he had pictured. Drew wished her joyful. But he understood how important her family were to her. The ability to love was one of her qualities, so he could hardly be upset by it. Yet it clawed at his mind that she may love her family more than him. He could not stand to be second best to her, when she would be everything to him.

He took the handkerchief from her fingers. ‘You’ll not need this now,’ he said as he handed the hackney driver his fare.

The driver passed her bag to Drew.

‘We are taking my phaeton.’

Mary’s lower lip had caught between her teeth.

He hoped she was not having second thoughts. ‘This is your chance to speak up if you have changed your mind?’

Why the hell did I ask her that? He did not want her to withdraw, it would rip him apart if she did. But he could not take her if she was not willing.

Her pale blue eyes shone even in the shadow of the narrow brim of her straw bonnet. A soft ache settled behind his ribs, emotions writhing.

The bonnet had a large lavender bow tied at one side of her chin and her light spencer matched the shade of the ribbon, while her dress was a muslin three shades lighter. She looked nothing like the women he would have spent time with before he met her.

She smiled. ‘I have not changed my mind. I want to be your wife.’

‘Good, because I want to be your husband.’

She kissed his lips quickly. It was placation. A kindness. It annoyed him that she had seen a weakness in his character. But no matter, as long as she did not change her mind.

He took her hand and led her to his phaeton, nodding at the groom who held the horses’ heads. The man was from the mews where Drew stabled his horses.

Drew handed her up. The tall racing curricle was not designed with a lady’s ascent, and he saw a flash of a narrow, stocking-clad ankle as she climbed the steps. He would soon see it in the flesh.

When she sat, he walked about the carriage. A surge of feeling weighed down on him. She was his responsibility now. He must protect her.

He put her bag under the seat, then climbed up.

One of her hands held the carriage’s frame, the other her reticule.

Drew picked up the reins and nodded at the groom, telling him to let go of the horses’ heads.

Drew flicked the reins. His horses, Athena and Hera, walked on. A smile pulled at his lips, soon he’d no longer need to fear the duns taking his horses.

Mary did not speak.

He had no idea what to say to her. He concentrated on driving the horses.

The sounds of the London streets, the tack, hoof beats and the roll of the carriages’ wheels absorbed his thoughts. He’d lived in London for so long, and before that in cities abroad, these sounds to him were like a mother’s heartbeat to an infant in the womb.

When they reached the outskirts, the traffic thinned, then they progressed into open countryside and the world expanded to distant horizons. The only sounds now were that of his phaeton and horses, the creaks as the vehicle rocked on its springs as they cantered along the dry roads, the horses’ hooves pounding.

‘Do you like the countryside?’ Mary asked, making drawing room conversation.

‘I was a boy once, and boys love trees to climb and rivers to swim or fish in. I loved the countryside then, but now I am a town gentleman. I cannot recall the last time I left town.’

‘My parents have taken my brothers and sisters to Pembroke Place, not far from London, to enjoy the park. It is John’s estate. The younger children become bored in town. I like London, I enjoy the season, but I prefer to be at home. My father’s estate is in Berkshire. It is peaceful there.’

He stared at the road as she spoke. He felt awkward with her today. Clumsy. He could not speak of families. He could not imagine the things she was thinking.

‘Where is your family’s home?’

He glanced at her, a bitter smile catching his lips. ‘Shropshire, just south of Shrewsbury.’

‘And your parents are there?’

He did not look at her this time. ‘Yes, they are there or in town. My eldest brother lives with them. I do not visit.’

‘You don’t?’

‘No, darling, so do not expect to go there. Long ago, I said to hell with them and promised myself I would never go back.’

Silence answered him.

He glanced at her. ‘Believe me, you do not wish to know them,’ he said to the look he received. Of course, she would not understand a family like his, any more than he understood hers.

‘Do your parents always bring all your brothers and sisters to town?’ He only spoke to crack the ice that had formed over their conversation.

‘Yes. Always. We used to stay at Uncle Robert’s and that was bedlam because he has a large family too. We and our cousins would run riot all season. But since Grandfather died and the title passed to John we stay with John.’

‘Is he happy about that?’ Pembroke was so stiff-upper-lipped Drew was surprised he could abide noisy children.

‘When he came home from Egypt, I think he was a little irritated by us all. But now he has Paul he plays as rough with the boys as Papa does, they are always play-fighting.’

Drew could not imagine that, not of Pembroke or her father. He had never known a man play with children. When he and his brothers had fought it had not been play; there were bloody noses, black eyes and bruised knuckles. His schoolmaster’s response was a beating with a cane and several days’ isolation in a locked room with bread and water.

Out of sight and out of mind was his parents’ policy for rearing their bastard brat.

‘My aunts and uncles bring their children too and my cousins who are married bring theirs. We are like a hoard when we gather at Pembroke Place in the summers and over Christmas.’

He supposed she’d want him to take her there – he could let her go alone. That was if her family would still invite her. They may turn their backs on her. That thought pierced his chest. She would be devastated if her family disowned her. He’d not thought of this from her view.

He glanced at her. ‘You know your family are not going to like this.’

Her blue gaze shimmered with unshed tears as she nodded.

‘It may mean?—’

‘I know they may never speak to me again, but I think they love me enough to accept my choice.’

Was it awful of him to feel glad that she took the risk of leaving the family she loved for him? It meant he was first in her affections. But… ‘This is a gamble for you then,’ and… Lord… ‘If you are wrong? Can you bear it?’ He pulled on the reins and halted the horses suddenly. He must be sure. He could not bear to give his heart to her completely only to be rejected; if her family turned her away and then she turned against him. Whatever they were building together must have a firm foundation to withstand the battle he knew would come soon.

She turned sideways on the seat, facing him. ‘Are you asking if I am sure again? I did not make this decision on a whim.’

He thought she had… he thought her agreement was the outcome of their physical encounter. A shallow smile touched his lips. He did not think that any more.

‘I will miss my family but I will not change my mind. I hope they will welcome you eventually, but we will have each other and our own family. I made my choice.’

Lord , what a speech. She was constantly displaying new depths to her character.

Drew turned to the road and flicked the reins.

She chose him, he should be smiling again, whooping with joy, yet suddenly the knowledge of whom she chose settled on his shoulders. She did not know whom she had chosen. He did. A worthless barren soul – a man whose heart had been kicked so hard, so many times, it did not know how to function. He had no idea how to be a husband or a father. But he knew he wanted to make her happy.

Perhaps the country estate he intended to buy would be enough to fulfil her happiness. She could make a home there, with any children they had, and the children would make her happy even if he ended up an inept husband.

She slid closer to him and rested a hand on his thigh. The touch did odd things to his stomach. He flicked the reins and urged the horses to a canter. Her cheek rested against his shoulder, and the pressure of her slender fingers clutched about his arm.

Had she sensed his turmoil and was offering comfort? He hoped not. She would definitely dislike the weak, rejected man hidden behind his rogue’s facade. He wanted her to be as proud of him as she’d sounded when she spoke of her family.

Her lips pressed a kiss on his cheek.

The gesture jolted the world’s axis.

He treasured this woman. Utterly adored her. Tomorrow, or perhaps the next day, or the one after that, but surely by then, she would be his wife. I love you. The words slipped through his thoughts. Am I capable of it then? Devil take it. But if this was love, it felt good.

They rode on in silence. He could not think straight with her close to him. No woman had sat like this with him.

Movement in a solitary tree at the edge of the road grasped his attention. A large buzzard landed on a branch and its sharp, predatory eyes surveyed the field beyond, searching for carrion.

It felt like life was holding up a metaphorical mirror for him to see himself. He was like a buzzard. An opportunist, yes. But a man who surveyed and ruled the world about him, rather than let it rule him. Poor Mary was his carrion, the flesh he’d found on the marriage market.

He pitied her suddenly. Reality set in. No woman could be proud of him.

He would not be accepted in her world and she would be humiliated in his, left friendless and without her family. God help her. He should stop raising foolish expectations and be prepared to comfort her when her family turned their backs on her.

Yet, he would strive to make her happy out of affection and gratitude, whether he had any finer feelings of love or not – gratitude, affection and admiration must be enough.

He hoped…