Lessons from a Scandalous Bride (Forgotten Princesses #2)(46)

Her chest lifted on a deep breath. “I’ll marry you.”

His chest eased and loosened. He had to stop himself from grinning like a fool. Especially considering she looked as grim as an undertaker.

She leaned in closer, clutching the edge of the door. “You said I could trust you.”

He nodded at her whisper. “You can.”

Her eyes locked on his, soulful and deep . . . almost pleading. “I’m counting on that. Don’t expect me to be a real wife.”

The tightness came back again, seizing his chest. “What can I expect then?”

“I’ll try . . . but—” She licked her lips and looked over her shoulder. “Intimacy will be . . . infrequent.” Her eyes searched his face, and he read the fear there, the uncertainty. Accepting him was at great cost to her. “And you said there were ways to avoid—” Her voice dipped so low he could scarcely hear her. “Children . . .”

He nodded slowly. She was telling him she might never want children. It wounded more than he expected. And yet not enough to turn away from her. He wanted her. At any cost.

He wasn’t one of those men determined to populate the earth with his progeny. He had brothers. His family line would doubtlessly stay within his immediate family. He reminded himself that his goal coming here was to secure an heiress. It wasn’t to find himself a broodmare.

He covered her hand where it clutched the edge of the door, her slight fingers smooth beneath his own. “I won’t demand it of you. I’ll honor your wish.”

She released a rattling breath, her expression relieved. With a shaky smile, she slid her hand out from his and closed the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The door clicked shut. He stared at it for some moments before turning and walking down the steps.

He’d won his heiress, but he felt no triumph. He hadn’t won Cleo.

Not yet.

“Cleo!” Her father’s voice boomed across the foyer before she had managed two steps from the door. “You’ve returned!”

She jumped and turned to face Jack guiltily. Partly because she’d just shoved Logan from the house like some dirty little secret. And partly because she’d hoped to escape upstairs and compose herself before confronting him.

He advanced on her with an anxious expression on his face. “I didn’t think Dobson would fetch you this quickly, but all the better. Come. She’s in the drawing room.”

Her father was expecting her? He’d sent Dobson to fetch her home? “Who’s in the drawing room?”

Jack stopped and stared down at her. “Didn’t Dobson tell you?”

It appeared she would have to explain everything right now whether she liked it or not. “Dobson didn’t fetch me home. I returned on my own.”

Jack shook his head. “Thrumgoodie decided to return early?”

“Um, not precisely.”

He looked from her to the door, as though he might find the explanation of how she’d gotten here written upon it.

“Lord McKinney brought me back.”

“McKinney? You traveled alone with him?” Jack’s ruddy complexion darkened, no doubt grasping the implications of this scenario. “Whatever for?”

“I didn’t have a choice.”

His head cocked to the side. “How’s that?”

“You see . . . we were caught.” She bit her lip. Releasing the bruised flesh, she added, “In a rather comprising situation. In my bedchamber.”

Jack gaped.

“Thrumgoodie was quite upset, as you can imagine.” She saw no point in explaining that she’d been engaged to the earl up until that disastrous moment. It would only make Jack’s disappointment more acute. “Hamilton saw fit to kick me and Lord McKinney from his house.”

“I’ll kill him.”

“Now, Jack.” She rested her hand on his arm. “I’m a grown woman and responsible for my actions. You can’t blame Logan any more than you can blame me.”

Jack’s eyes snapped fire. “I’m not talking about McKinney—although he’ll have some explaining to do as well. I’m talking about Hamilton. And Thrumgoodie for that matter. How dare they boot you from the house as if you were some common trash? Thrumgoodie escorted you. I don’t care what you did! The man should have seen you safely home.”

She squeezed his arm, trying to calm him. “No harm done. And I couldn’t really bear to stay in that house a moment longer . . . not after being caught with Logan like that.”

Her father huffed and looked down at her. “Logan, is it?”

Her cheeks heated. She managed a nod.

“You care about him?”

She blinked. Partly because the question was so unexpected from Jack. She never expected him to care one way or another. And partly because she didn’t wish to consider the notion. She couldn’t care for Logan. That would be . . . bad. Bad for her control when it came to keeping him at arm’s length.

“I-I suppose. Yes. I do,” she answered, guessing that was the answer that would most appease Jack. She couldn’t explain her complicated relationship with Logan to him.

He nodded as though satisfied. “I’m assuming he intends to salvage your reputation and—”

“Yes, he’s offered.”