Page 56 of The Pleasures of Passion

She flashed him a wan smile. “That’s the problem. You truly believe it’s absurd. But perhaps you shouldn’t.”

A voice came from beyond the garden. “Brilliana? Are you still out here?”

Lady Pensworth. Deuce take it.

Bree shot him an apologetic glance. “I’ll be in shortly, Aunt Agatha!” she called out.

There was a long pause before the old battle-ax answered. “All right. But don’t be too long.”

Stepping up to him, Bree whispered, “She’ll question your poor footboy until she gets the truth out of him, and then she’ll be in here demanding to know what we’re up to. I’d better go.”

He caught her by the arm. “Just think about what I said, Bree. Give yourself tonight to consider my proposition.” When she looked as if she might make some protest, he added, “We can court respectably. No bed play.”

A rueful laugh escaped her. “You really think you can manage that.”

“I can manage anything for another chance with you.”

That wiped the humor from her face. She looked lost, unsure of her bearings. He understood. But that didn’t mean he had to take her reticence as the last word.

He knew he wouldn’t hurt her again. Now he just had to make sure she knew it, too.

“I’ll give you my answer as soon as I can,” she said. “Now, I really must go.”

This time he let her. Because he had to. Not because he wanted to.

But long after she disappeared, he stood there, replaying everything they’d said, and it occurred to him that he hadn’t stopped to examine his own feelings in the matter. He’d just stormed in as always, with his eye on the prize, not considering whether the prize was what he truly wanted.

He’d spent only one day with her—she might really be as different as she’d said. She did seem more guarded about her feelings. And he wanted a wife who could love him freely.

What if, God forbid, shecouldn’tlove him again?

He snorted. This wasn’t about love. He wouldn’t let it be about love. He’d gone that route once, and it had nearly destroyed him. Love was as tumultuous as war, and he’d had enough of both. He wanted a wife who would give him peace. Children. A pleasant life.

And yes, passion. He and Bree had that, at least.

But was that enough? It might not be for her, especially if her years with Trevor had set her irrevocably against marriage.

No, he couldn’t believe it. All women wanted husbands, didn’t they? She was still merely chafing over her notion that he’d fought the duel over his mistress. A notion she’d had from his own father.

He winced. He’d have to accept that if he were to trust her.

As for her conviction that he’d betrayed her with another woman, she would never come to trusthimuntil she could believe him on that score.

He scrubbed a hand over his face. He’d have to handle this with great care. He could ask Edwin about Clarissa’s present state of mind. According to Warren, Edwin knew everything about the rape and the duel, so Niall wouldn’t be speaking out of turn.

Yes, that was what he should do. Speak to Edwin in the morning and see if the man thought Niall could approach Clarissa without alarming her during her pregnancy.

“I didn’t tell her nothing, sir. Just so you know.”

Niall glanced up to see Pip standing there. “Who?”

“Lady Pensworth. I played dumb when she asked who was out here with Mrs. Trevor.”

That made Niall laugh. “Trust me, she’ll know before the hour is up. Lady Pensworth is nothing if not resourceful.” He handed the boy a guinea, and the lad’s eyes went wide. “Tell your master I appreciate his lending me your aid. And tell him it was successful.”

He hoped it had been, anyway.

“Is there anything else I can do for you, my lord?”