Page 27 of The Rules of Matrimony (The Matchmaking Mamas #4)

The hunting box was Ian’s property, not his father’s. How could Father invite himself here and make his selfish demands as if everyone were pawns to be moved at his will? The man aggravated Ian to no end. Ian collapsed back on a sofa, his arm going up over his eyes. He sat that way for what felt like an hour, the same conversation circling in his mind, torturing him.

At least now that Ian was married, his father would not disinherit him. Ian was sure about that. The grandchild comment had given him away, insensitive as it was. But his father was still his father, and the cut of his words ran deep.

A knock sounded on the open drawing room door. Ian dragged his arm down and turned to look over his shoulder. “Amie.” Her name was all he could bring himself to say. He didn’t want to speak to her but didn’t know how to politely send her away either. This was her house too.

Standing in the threshold, she lowered her head and spoke to the floor. “Your parents are gone.”

He turned his head forward again, away from her. “Good.”

A moment passed before her soft voice carried to him. “Can we speak?”

He sighed. He had heard his mother conversing with her, so he assumed Amie had heard the argument. She’d given him nearly an hour to himself already, and he wouldn’t be able to put this off much longer. He leaned forward, propping his elbows on his thighs. “Come in.”

Her quiet steps and faint swish of her skirts brought her farther into the room. He expected her to sit on the opposite sofa or maybe even stand, but she sat directly beside him, bringing with her the tantalizing smell of vanilla. Her small hand came up to rest on the middle of his back, and his muscles tightened at the unexpected touch. Gentle pats of her hand left a slow circle of warmth behind. The wild, racing thoughts fled one by one, and the tension in his body eased as a comforting wave engulfed him. He could think of nothing now but that rhythmic pressure and Amie beside him.

Neither of them said anything for a long time. He didn’t know what to say to reassure her. He had done exactly what his father had accused him of and not even given Amie the independence she’d desired. He was always trying to fix things, but he was the most broken of all. He could not even comfort the beautiful woman beside him. Instead, she was comforting him.

A crooked smile crept onto his face. “You really are terrible at keeping rule number one.” The hand on his back that had gone from pats to smoothing the lines of his jacket froze. He hadn’t meant to scare her. He shifted his head to look at her, and she quickly withdrew her hand altogether. He missed it already, but it didn’t seem fair to make her wait on him any longer.

“What did you want to speak to me about?”

She inhaled sharply and blurted, “I think I should go.”

His brow furrowed. “What?”

“I think ...” she said cautiously, her eyes glossing with sudden moisture, “I think we should annul this marriage.”

The sensation of cold water rushed over him. “Amie?”

“Ian,” she pleaded.

He shook his head. “Don’t let him get to you. He doesn’t have that right over us.”

She shrugged. “You don’t need to do this for me. I’m no one to you. He’s your father.”

A sudden memory of a conversation he’d overheard in the cardroom at a ball played in his mind. The distinguished men had bragged about their disgusting conquests, revering Ian’s father as their role model of discretionary debauchery. “Amie, he’s my father in blood alone. I will never do as he says.”

She stood and stared down at him. “Lord Kellen is right. I’m your wife in name only. All your hopes of changing the world should not hinge on this decision. You should listen to him.”

He stood too. “I won’t listen.”

“But you must.” She stepped closer to him. “Don’t you see? Lives depend upon it.”

“I refuse to believe that. I am not so weak that I must stay in my father’s shadow.” His words didn’t seem to take purchase. He’d never heard such desperation in Amie’s voice, and he didn’t care for it. Not when it concerned his father.

“Ian, see reason. I don’t want you to regret this.”

He shook his head again. “I’m sorry if my temper scared you. I should not have been so easily provoked. But I stand by my words. I won’t give you the annulment, Amie. I swore to never marry, but I have, and I won’t turn my back on another commitment I’ve made.” He would never cast her aside to fend for herself. Did she really think him capable of that?

Her wide brown eyes welled with tears, gutting him. He valued open communication, but no good would come in continuing this argument. He was too tired, too frustrated, too hurt, and he’d already lost control once and wouldn’t do it again. She deserved better. “I’m going for another ride, Amie. Please, put this from your mind, and don’t let my father’s words poison you. You’ll always have a place here. Always.”

He strode from the room and through the narrow corridors, his clipped steps echoing against the tile. The warm evening air greeted him and curled its wispy fingers through his hair. He pressed his eyes closed. Must he lose his father and his wife in one day?

Amie wasn’t no one to him. She was his. So what if they didn’t love each other as man and wife? He couldn’t abandon her. He wouldn’t. He had made vows to her, endured sleepless nights with her, and shared his private plans with her. He cared too much about her to simply walk away.

His eyes widened.

He ... he cared for her.

Blast!