Page 12 of The Earl’s Tempting Ward (Dukes Gone Dirty #2)

12

“M arried ?” Philippa’s voice was a piercing scratch that sent the bird on the windowsill flying with a squawk.

Benedict went about his morning routine as if she hadn’t just hurt both their ears. “That’s what I said.” He tossed her a dismissive look over his shoulder as he fastened his cufflinks. “What else did you expect?”

Her jaw hung open as she stared at him with wide eyes. What else, indeed?

Heat seared her cheeks as her sleep-addled brain pieced it together. “This is because I’m a virgin, isn’t it?”

He turned again, this time to give her a ferocious scowl, but she wasn’t afraid.

She clutched the covers to her bare chest. Well, she was afraid, but not of his scowls. Not even of him.

“Benedict, you are overreacting,” she said.

This…was the wrong thing to say.

He forgot entirely about setting his clothing to rights, and turned to her with a calm, steady gaze that was much more terrifying than his glares and glowers. For this steady gaze spoke of determination. Resolve. Whatever he’d decided, it was as good as done in his book.

Her brows drew together in a scowl of her own. Insufferable man .

“Yes,” he drawled slowly as he stalked toward the edge of the bed. “Let’s talk about the fact that, despite your claims, you were indeed an innocent.”

Her chin came up even as her skin burned beneath his perusal. “Not an innocent .”

At his arched brows, she added, “Just because I was not entirely ruined does not mean I’m innocent.”

He stopped walking, pausing a few feet from the bed to stare at her in a way that left her feeling far more naked and vulnerable than she had the night before. He seemed to be staring straight through her, all the way inside her…

She wriggled beneath the blankets and cast a longing glance toward the door.

She’d missed her chance to escape, that much was clear. When she’d first woken to morning light streaming in through her windows, she’d discovered an empty place beside her in bed.

Smart , she’d thought. He’d slipped out before the servants could notice and?—

Wrong. The moment she’d started to think it, he’d come striding in from the adjacent room, his hair wet and his scarred torso dripping with bath water, a towel slung low around his waist.

For a moment there she’d been unable to breathe thanks to the striking sight of him before her, so large and hard and so…so Benedict. He’d stopped to take her in as well, and for a moment, she’d gotten hot all over, convinced that he’d come right back into this bed to pick up where they’d left off.

The sore place between her thighs had ached at the thought and she’d squeezed her legs together tight while offering him a small, inviting smile.

He’d turned away with a grunt, and had headed over to her dressing area where a fresh set of clothes had been laid out for him, along with a tray of breakfast for two.

Her mouth had gone dry then, her vision cloudy as her brain tried to reconcile what was happening. Servants had been here, to draw a bath and bring the food and?—

And perhaps he did not mind them knowing she was his mistress. She’d no sooner reconciled herself to the thought, ignoring the niggle of shame and the nagging thoughts of what her parents would think. What her mother’s oldest friend would say…

So yes, the fact that he hadn’t tried to hide this interlude from the servants was her first hint that this was not going according to plan. But she still hadn’t expected this .

As if he were discussing the weather, he’d reached for his shirt and tugged it on while saying, “I’ll have the banns posted shortly, but you should prepare yourself for the fact that Mother will no doubt want to announce our marriage plans at tonight’s soiree. She’ll be worried about the servants talking, no doubt.”

He kept muttering about how his mother might not approve but would make the best of it. All the while, Philippa sat there in stunned silence.

Until she hadn’t.

“But… marriage ?” she squeaked again now, her voice still unfortunately high. She made an effort to drop it, to sound calm even as her belly fluttered with nerves. “Have you lost your mind?”

Again. Wrong thing to say.

He arched his brows, his voice dangerously calm. “You are doubting my sanity?” He moved closer until he was right beside her and his fingers moved over her cheeks, clasping her jaw with a touch that was so gentle and so very at odds with the storm raging in his eyes. “I am not the one who lured you to my bed, love. And I’m not the one who lied about?—”

“That is it,” she cried, jerking her head away with an odd sense of triumph. “My virginity. If that’s the only reason you think you have to marry me, then let me assure you?—”

“Don’t be daft,” he snapped. “I’d planned to marry you from the start.”

“From the…what?”

He glared down at her and she felt every inch the recalcitrant child.

His fists came down on either side of her, making the mattress sink as he loomed over her. “You did not think I would fuck my ward and leave her to face ruin, did you?”

She cringed at the harsh word, even though she knew that was exactly what they’d done. This had not been some romantic interlude, merely lust.

But even as she thought it, her mind chose that moment to call up the heart-aching tenderness in his eyes when he’d realized she was hurting. The painfully gentle way he’d touched her and held her and took care of her after.

She tore her gaze away as a wave of emotions crashed over her.

“I knew I would marry you before I ever set hands on you,” he said. “Your virginity did not change anything except for the fact that I may very well tan your hide for lying to me the way you did.”

Her cheeks still burned as she stared down at her bent knees and her clasped hands. Shame slithered through her at what she’d done. But she hadn’t meant to trap him into marriage. Quite the opposite.

“I don’t need you to marry me,” she said through a tight throat. “I don’t wish for you to?—”

“Too bad. You should have thought of that before you threw yourself at me,” he snapped. “Now you’re stuck with me. I suppose that’s punishment enough, eh?”

Beneath his anger, she could have sworn she’d heard…hurt.

But that couldn’t be right. She couldn’t have hurt his feelings by wanting a physical relationship and nothing more.

Could she?

Confusion rattled her even further and she glanced around her, desperate for some sort of escape from his all-seeing glare. All she found were the walls of this room. Her new home. She’d thought these quarters spacious and opulent only the night before, but now it was closing in on her. “You cannot marry me,” she said, her fingers clutching the covers tight between her hands.

“Why not?”

She thought she caught a flicker of amusement there in his gaze, and definitely a hint of concern.

“Why not ?” she repeated. Her voice was too shrill again but there was nothing for it. Her insides were tied in knots she couldn’t begin to unwind. She didn’t even know where to begin. “Because you cannot,” she ended lamely.

He eased away from her, making the bed dip as he sank onto the edge. His weight had her fighting to keep her balance lest she topple into his arms.

And would that be the worst fate you could imagine?

Truly, it was tempting. Last night was the first time in more than a year that she’d felt some relief from the crushing guilt. It was the first time the ghost of her former life no longer haunted her.

But that had been last night. That had been in the darkness of the evening and under the heady influence of his kisses and his touch.

This was different.

This was the cold light of day and it was their future at stake. His future.

“I am not meant to be a countess,” she said, the words coming out on a rush of desperation.

His smirk was wry and bitter. “Nor was I meant to be an earl, but here I am.”

“That’s different.”

“Is it?”

She shook her head with a frown. “It is and you know it. You were born to this family?—”

“And I ruined it single handedly,” he said. “I don’t see how that makes me fit to be earl.”

The way he said it—so plainspoken. So brutally honest without rationalizing or excuses. It terrified her. “You ruined it?” The question was small. “How?”

She’d heard the rumors, of course. Even in the ballroom, she’d caught wind of the gossip. That he was somehow to blame for the fire that claimed his father and brother. And he himself had openly claimed responsibility for his family’s deaths. But she still did not know the story, and she couldn’t deny her curiosity. She nibbled on her lip. “Is it true then? What they say?”

He dipped his chin, his eyes dark and grim.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

And she was. Because she understood his pain better than he could know.

“I am too,” he said. “I should never have brought my mistress to our family home. I never should have gotten so far in my cups. I never should have fought with the woman who I’d already realized was mad.” He shook his head wearily. “There are so many things I would change if I could go back.”

She nodded, her throat too choked with emotion to speak. They sat in silence for a long moment as she thought about what he’d said. “She set the fire? Your mistress?”

Another short nod. “It appears that way. The fire started in my brother’s room, and she was in there with him. Earlier that day while we were fighting and I was drunk, she’d screamed something about how if I didn’t want her she’d find another to take my place.” He lifted a shoulder. “It was only later I realized she meant my brother.”

“Do you think the fire was intentional?”

“Yes.” He didn’t even hesitate. “I know her and I know my brother. When I first met her I found her histrionics amusing, her melodramatic flair intriguing.” He snorted. “I didn’t see the truth of her madness for far too long. But my brother had. He was the smart one, you know.” Another bitter smile. “He’d always known her for what she was, and he was furious with me for daring to bring her into our home when Mother and Father were in attendance.”

She watched him for a long while, her heart in her throat as he spoke.

“But that was part of the reason I did it,” he admitted. “I was always acting out. Always rebelling. In hindsight, I don’t even know why.”

Tears welled in her eyes. He might have been speaking on her behalf. He might as well have been in her head.

Why must you misbehave ? Her mother’s voice was clear as day in her mind, spoken only days before her death.

Because she’s wicked , her father had answered when she’d failed to respond.

Their wicked, evil, amoral girl. That was who she’d always been.

That was who she was.

“My father died trying to save my brother.” Benedict’s voice brought her back to the present with a start.

“I’m sorry,” she said. But even as she said it, she knew how useless it was. It was the trite, meaningless phrase everyone said to her and here she was saying it now. Because, really, what else was there to say?

“Yes, well…” His voice was gruff but the tone filled with a new forced energy as he looked around them, clearly ready to change the topic. “I suppose I thought you ought to know the truth behind the rumors.” His gaze came back to collide with hers. “Now that you are to be my wife.”

She inhaled so quickly she nearly choked. For a second there she’d forgotten what this argument was all about.

“You cannot be serious,” she said.

His hard glare said otherwise.

“I’m not fit to?—”

“We’ve been over all that,” he said, sounding bored as he got to his feet to resume getting ready for the day. “Doesn’t matter your connections, what matters is that you could even now be carrying my child.”

She gaped down at her belly in horror. “No, I cannot…I mean, that isn’t?—”

“Philippa…” His look of utter discomfort had her going still. “You do understand where babies come from, don’t you?”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course I do.”

He shrugged as if that was that.

“But—”

“No buts, Philippa,” he snapped, whirling around to face her head-on. “You made your decision. I told you what would happen.”

She blinked up at him, her lips parting. You’ll be mine forever.

She swallowed hard. “I thought you meant…” She stopped when his brows fell in anger. “That is, I told you already I could be your mistress.”

“And I told you that is unacceptable.”

End of conversation. He started to move away, and panic surged hot and fierce.

“I cannot be a countess,” she started, scrabbling forward on the bed, forgetting about modesty as the covers fell away.

“We’ve been over that. You can and you will.” His tone was dismissive as he headed toward the door.

“I won’t do it,” she said, her voice too loud, causing him to freeze with one hand on the doorknob. He turned back and his expression was shuttered. “You yourself were the first to mention marriage. Don’t you recall?”

She did. Back when she’d first arrived, on their way to London. “Yes, but that was…that was before…”

He arched a brow. “Before what?”

Her lips remained parted but no words came out. Before what? Before she’d seen his kindness. Before he’d made her laugh. Before he’d danced with her and held her in his arms and whispered soft soothing words to her when she was in pain. That was before…before…

Oh hell. That was before she realized she might like him.

When she never finished answering, he turned away with a huff. “Take your time getting ready for the day,” he said, his back to her. “Save your energy for tonight.”

“Tonight?” She shook her head. Tonight could wait. Throwing all modesty to the wind, she raced across the room, stark naked and terrified.

She could admit it. She was terrified. This wasn’t right. It wasn’t how this was supposed to go. “I cannot marry you,” she said, clinging to his arm like a waif begging on the streets.

His gaze dropped down, taking in her bare breasts, lingering on the dark thatch of curls between her thighs. She went to drop a hand, reflexively trying to shield herself from his gaze, but he caught her wrist in a viselike grip. “Don’t,” he barked.

Her eyes widened as his dark eyes met hers. “Mine, remember?”

There was nothing to shield her from his eyes now. Nothing to hide the fact that she was trembling. With panic. With desire. With fear.

“Why do you think you cannot marry me?” he asked.

It was a test. It felt that way, at least. His gaze bore into hers and she opened her mouth to speak but her throat wouldn’t let her.

“I don’t deserve marriage.” Not to someone nice, at least. Not to someone who would treat her well.

And he would. Despite what she’d heard, and despite his gruff and rude demeanor, she knew it now as well as she knew her own name.

He would be good to her. And that she did not deserve.

That would be a torture she could not bear.

Her hands fell from his arm and after another silence, she saw a flicker of disappointment in his eyes before he turned away and left her alone, naked and shaking.