The Perfect Bride (21 page)

She made a sound. “You are not honored. You seemed dismayed and angry, but not honored.” She could not believe her blunt words. Then, “I realize you are about to refuse me.”

His expression became twisted. “No, I am honored. And I have felt many emotions this afternoon, but dismay was not one of them.”

She had no idea of how to respond, and she felt perilously close to tears.

“Actually, I wished to discuss the matter with you a bit further.” His regard was direct and searching.

She began breathing hard. She felt her own anger spark—and it was entirely unfamiliar. “Are you toying with me, Sir Rex?”

“No, I am not. I would never do such a thing. I meant everything I said earlier, and I will add this—I believe you are far too good for a man like me. However,” he cut her off, “I wish to accept your offer if you have really thought about what a marriage between us would mean.”

She was so surprised, having expected the worst, that she lost some of her balance. He lightly steadied her. “You are not refusing me outright?”

“No, I am not.” He hesitated. “But I do not want to accept your proposal and disappoint you one day.”

“You won't.”

He lifted his hand. “Blanche, are you certain? I realize that, for the most part, we get along famously here at Land's End. But have you considered, really, what it will be like to reside together, even if for a mere month, in town? Have you envisioned me at the head of your table during a supper affair? Will you be unhappy when I must return to the country? Will you be annoyed, or even disappointed? And what will you do if you overhear gossips behind your back, condemning me, or even us both?”

Blanche was stunned by his tangent. “Are you trying to protect me?”

“Of course I am. I have felt the urge to protect you for some time now. I wish to protect you from a future of unhappiness—from me, if you will.”

“How can you predict such a future? I happen to think it will be an amenable one.”

“If I had a crystal ball,” he said tersely, “and saw the kind of future you envision, I would not hesitate to accept.”

Blanche gasped.

“I prefer your happiness to my own.”

“I am becoming aware of that,” she managed. “So you really feel some of the affection for me that I feel for you?” She began to reel—with happiness and hope.

“I do not lie and I do not dissemble. I said I care for you, and I do.”

She was moved, and there was the swelling of joy. She reminded herself that he hadn't accepted her suit yet. “I have seen you in your worst moments, Sir Rex.”

“I was about to bring that up. Can you blame me for being surprised by your proposal when you have seen me dallying with the maid—and drinking alone at midnight? That night I was foxed, my comments were inappropriate—and some, highly suggestive. Yet, instead of condemning me, you offer me marriage.”

“I have begun to comprehend you, Sir Rex.”

His mouth finally shifted, tilting up ever so slightly at the corners. “Really?”

“Yes, and do not deny that the war and a woman are responsible for a great deal of your torment.”

He stared, his mouth suddenly turned down. “I will admit no such thing. We are both entitled to a few secrets.”

She did not like his choice of words—or the direct stare that followed it.

“I do not want to disappoint you,” he said firmly. “I do not want, a year or two from now, for you to find me alone at midnight with my demons and despise me, regretting this day.”

“I could never despise you,” she gasped.

“You mean it.”

“I do!”

He nodded grimly. Then, “Blanche, I cannot promise you I will be able to linger as long as you would like in town. I cannot promise you I will not be stricken with insomnia, and sit up drinking well into the night. Nor can I promise you that I will be polite or pleasant if you dare to confront me at such a time.”

She bit her lip, her heart racing madly now. He was on the verge of accepting her offer, yet he insisted on defining his every flaw. “I am aware that if I confront the lion in his den, I may get bitten. However, like a small dog, your growl is far worse than any bite.”

“I cannot dissuade you? You realize the pitfalls awaiting us in such a marriage?”

“I do, and no, I will not be dissuaded,” she cried.

He stared and she stared back. He still refused to smile; if anything, he seemed more intense and uncertain. “Then I must make a final confession.”

Blanche started. Fear began, bringing dread. Hadn't there been enough confessions? What could he possibly admit to?

He wet his lips—a nervous gesture she had never before seen. “I will understand entirely if you decide to withdraw after you hear what I am about to say.”

“You are frightening me.”

He grimaced. “In all conscience, I cannot go forward without a declaration. Blanche, I have a child—I have a son.”

Her surprise began—she hadn't heard a word, she hadn't guessed!

“He lives with his mother in an arrangement made almost a decade ago.” His mouth twisted into severely unhappy lines.

And lightning struck—she knew. His broken heart was wrapped up not in the war, but in this woman, the mother of his child, and in his son.

“There are no other heirs,” he said as if reciting rehearsed lines. “I realized some time ago they could offer my child the kind of life and inheritance I never could.”

They,
she thought. “Another couple is bringing your son up?”

He nodded. “His name is Stephen and he is nine years old.” He suddenly stiffened and turned away. His profile had become a mask of self-imposed control. In that instant, she saw that he was battling a profound grief.

Blanche's heart broke for him. He mourned the child he could not acknowledge or raise. She wanted to comfort him, but did not dare—and she sensed that even if she touched him, he would break down before her. She knew his pride must not be compromised.

He inhaled raggedly. “One day, he will inherit a great title, one of the greatest in the land, and with it, a great fortune.” He slowly faced her.

His agony was expressed in every deep line in his face. “Tell me about him,” she whispered. “Is he dark, like you? Is he fair?”

“I cannot.” He limped away.

Blanche inhaled, hugging herself. After nine years, the subject of his son remained raw and painful. She knew she dare not ask the questions she wished to…but one day, she would.

He finally faced her, a dormant flower bed between them. “I believe I am doing what is best for my son. He does not know that I am his father. Until he inherits, he never will.”

“What you are doing is selfless,” she said softly, “and it is what any good parent would do.”

He nodded curtly. “Thank you. And no one knows. This is a secret I have borne alone. It is hard enough to accept without sharing it with my prying, opinionated family.”

“Of course. Your secret is safe with me.”

He faced her directly. “I see no shock on your face. And again, I see no condemnation.”

“I will not condemn you for having an illegitimate child. My God, half the ton has illegitimate children.” She somehow smiled, hoping to encourage him.

His face tightened. Then he reached out. Her heart soared and she gave him her hand. His fingers closed tightly around her palm—as if he was afraid to ever let go. “You are, without a doubt, the most generous woman I have ever met.”

“This is not a matter of generosity, Sir Rex. Friends do not judge, accuse or condemn one another. Friends are loyal.”

“Do you wish to rethink your offer? We have had a frightfully open conversation. I would encourage you to think about it.”

“I do not have to rethink anything.” She tightened her grasp on his hand. “My affection remains—as do my hopes for a future together. I am not dissuaded,” she added.

He nodded and then lifted her hand to his lips. She felt faint as he kissed it. “There is one promise I can make you. You will have my loyalty, Blanche, in every possible way. I will do my best to defend you and your interests, protect them, uphold them and cherish them.”

His vows made her sway. He caught her, placing his left arm around her waist. “That also means I will never stray, Blanche. I will never be unfaithful.”

She thought of Anne and hesitated. How could she let him make such a promise?

“What?” he asked sharply. “Do you doubt me? The de Warenne men are notorious for being rakes as bachelors—and then being ridiculously faithful as husbands.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I have always known you would be faithful to a wife.”

“I will be faithful to
you,
” he said firmly. He hesitated. “I want to be faithful to you.”

Blanche let the tears fall and they were tears of happiness. “And what if it becomes impossible for you to keep that promise?”

He slowly became incredulous. “What does that mean, exactly? Are you suggesting I will want to stray? Why would I wish to be unfaithful? Are you implying that you will bar your door to me?”

She turned away, pulling free of his hand. If only she could confess the entire truth to him! She owed him the kind of confession he had just made to her. If only she could tell him the truth about her life—and how odd she was, compared to other women. If she could somehow explain that she had never felt half of what she had felt this past week, that angst and joy, desire and despair were all new emotions for her, he might understand that she was not an extremely passionate woman. He might realize they were not as well matched as he might hope in one certain area. At some point in time, she was going to disappoint
him,
not the other way around.

But she couldn't reveal any of this. It was too humiliating.

He stalked around her, crutch thudding. “Will you bar your door to me? Is that what you intend to do, after a child is conceived?”

“No,” she whispered. “I haven't any such intention.”

“Then what are you saying?”

Blanche hesitated, aware of her cheeks flaming. “I have lived in society for most of my life—and all of my adult life. My best friends are notorious for their love affairs. I understand them and do not condemn them, even if my nature is not at all like theirs.” She paused, hoping he would begin to understand.

He shook his head in confusion.

And she found a way to try to tell him what she really meant. “We will be spending months apart from one another. If the time comes, and you feel you need a mistress, I prefer not to know, but if I do, I will look the other way.” Hating what she had said, knowing she would hate any other woman, she was also, impossibly, relieved. She did not want pressure from him, not in this case. She walked away from him and paused to stare at a mound of dirt.

His crutch thundered as he swung around her. “That is the most generous—and absurd—statement I have ever heard. If I marry, I will be faithful, and I do not care what the marital circumstances are. I do not care if years go by before we cohabit! In fact, the mere
idea
of infidelity in a marriage is repulsive to me.”

She looked up. Sir Rex would never betray her, she realized, no matter what happened in their bedroom. Even if she disappointed him in their bed, he would be faithful. She had to wipe her eyes.

“I am not sure if you are stricken or thrilled,” he said harshly.

“I am overcome,” she finally said, reaching for both of his hands. “I know you think yourself a very dark hero, but you are a hero, plain and simple.”

And he seemed overcome, as well. She saw so much light flickering in his eyes, and she thought she saw hope and the beginning of joy, but she still saw torment, doubt and pain. “I am a war hero, perhaps, but not a dark hero or any other kind,” he said slowly. “Are you certain you do not wish to go to your rooms—or even back to London—to think about everything we have just said to one another?”

She shook her head. “I want to stay here with you.”

He nodded. “Tenacious,” he breathed. “And stubborn.”

She almost smiled. “I am feeling very stubborn now.”

“Then I concede.” His gaze held hers. “Your tenacity exceeds mine. I wish to accept your generous offer. I will be your husband, and do everything in my power to make this marriage a strong and pleasant one.”

Blanche clasped his shoulders, her heart thundering, and finally she smiled. “Oh,” she said, “oh! We are engaged!”

He tilted up her chin, his gaze finally moving to her mouth. “I will do everything in my power to please
you,
” he added softly. “In every possible way.”

She knew exactly what he meant. And desire was instantaneous—a response she could barely believe. But this entire week was like a wild dream.