The Raven Prince (Princes #1)(81)

“What?” That got her attention. “Edward, don’t do anything that you’ll regret. I’ll not marry you.”

“For Christ’s sake, why not?” He sat up impatiently.

She perched on the bed and rolled on a stocking. He noticed it was darned near the knee, and the sight made him even more angry. She shouldn’t have to wear rags. Why wouldn’t she marry him so he could take proper care of her?

“Why not?” he repeated as quietly as he could.

She swallowed and began on the other stocking, carefully smoothing it over her toes. “Because I don’t want you to marry out of a sense of misplaced duty.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” he said. “Wasn’t I the man making love to you last night and this morning?”

“And I was the woman making love to you,” Anna said. “I share just as much responsibility for the act as you.”

Edward watched her, searching for the words, the argument that would convince her.

She began tying a garter. “Peter was unhappy when I didn’t become pregnant.”

He waited.

She sighed, not looking at him. “Eventually, he went to another woman.”

Damned, stupid bastard. Edward flung back the bedcovers and paced to the window. “Were you in love with him?” The question was bitter on his tongue, but he was compelled to ask it.

“In the beginning, when we were first married.” She still smoothed the tattered silk over her calves. “Not at the end.”

“I see.” He paid for another man’s sins.

“No, I don’t think you can.” She picked up the remaining garter and stared at it in her hands. “When a man betrays a woman in such a way, it breaks something in her that I’m not sure can ever be repaired.”

Edward stared out the window, trying to form a reply. His future happiness depended on what he said next.

“I already know you are barren.” He finally turned to face her. “I’m content with you as you are. I can promise you that I’ll never take a mistress, but only time will provide real proof of my faithfulness. In the end, you must trust me.”

Anna stretched the garter between her fingers. “I don’t know if I can.”

Edward turned back to the window so she couldn’t see his expression. For the first time, he realized that he might not be able to convince Anna to marry him. The thought brought him close to something very like panic.

“OH, FOR GOD’S SAKE!”

“Hush. He’ll hear you,” Anna hissed in Edward’s ear.

They were attending Sir Lazarus Lillipin’s afternoon lecture on the rotation of crops using swedes and mangel-wurzels. So far, Edward disagreed with almost every word the poor man said. And he wasn’t keeping his opinion of the man or his theories to himself.

Edward glared at the speaker. “No, he won’t. The man’s deafer than a post.”

“Then others certainly will.”

Edward looked at her indignantly. “I should hope they do.” He turned back to the talk.

Anna sighed. He was behaving no worse than the rest of the assemblage and better than quite a few. The audience could only be called eclectic. They ranged from aristocrats in silks and lace to men in muddy jackboots, smoking clay pipes. All were crowded into a rather grimy coffeehouse that Edward had assured her was perfectly respectable.

She was doubtful.

Even now, a shouting match was breaking out in the back corner between a country squire and a dandy. She hoped it would not come to fisticuffs—or swords, for that matter. Every aristocrat in the room wore a sword as a badge of his rank. Even Edward, who eschewed the affectation in the country, had belted on a sword this morning.

He’d instructed her, before setting out, to take notes of the important points of the lecture so he could compare them to his own research later. She’d made some halfhearted scribbles, but she was uncertain how useful they’d be. Most of the lecture was incomprehensible to her, and she was a bit hazy about what exactly a mangel-wurzel was.

She’d begun to suspect that the main reason for her presence was so Edward could keep her in his sight. Since this morning he’d stubbornly maintained his argument that they must be married. He seemed to be under the impression that if he simply repeated it often enough, she would eventually wear down. And he might be right—if she could just let go of her fear of trusting him.

She closed her eyes and thought what it would be like to be Edward’s wife. They would ride about his estates in the mornings, then argue politics and people over supper. He’d drag her to arcane lectures like the present one. And they would share the same bed. Every night.

She sighed. Heaven.

Edward let out an explosive snort. “No, no, no! Even a lunatic knows you cannot follow rye with turnips!”

Anna opened her eyes. “If you dislike the man so very much, why attend his presentation?”

“Dislike Lillipin?” He looked genuinely surprised. “He’s a fine fellow. Simply backward in his thinking is all.”

A wave of applause—and catcalls—signified the end of the lecture. Edward seized her hand in a possessive grip and started shouldering toward the door.

A voice hailed them from the left. “De Raaf! Drawn back to London by the lure of mangel-wurzels?”