Temper gets you into trouble, pride keeps you there.
Anonymous
“That went well,” Wren commented dryly as soon as they reached the privacy and close confines of the coach.
“What did you expect me to do?”
“I didn’t expect you to brawl with a clergyman. Have you taken leave of your senses?”
“He called you a whore and my father a whoremonger.”
“He said to our faces what others would say behind our backs. You hit a rector. A man of the cloth!”
Drew laughed. “He may be a man of the cloth, Kathryn, but he’s a pompous ass and his holy raiment is so thin it might as well be imaginary. Hit him? I should have killed him.” He tapped his stick against the ceiling of the coach and instructed the coachman to drive them to the undertaker’s.
“But, Drew…”
“I thought you were upset because I informed him of our betrothal before I discussed it with you.”
“There’s no reason for me to be upset about your announcement, because we aren’t betrothed.” She used that prim, dictatorial tone of voice he loved.
“Yes, Kathryn, we are,” he insisted.
“No, Andrew, we are not.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s impossible.”
Drew leaned forward and took both of her hands in his. “Why, Kathryn? Tell me why it’s impossible.”
“Because.”
“That’s not a reason.”
“You heard the reason!” she hissed. “You heard what Mr. Pool said about me. I’m the local concubine. The fallen woman. The only one in the county who isn’t received at church.”
“Thank your lucky stars for that!” He gave her his most engaging grin. “Who wants to listen to the gospel of hypocrisy and snobbery according to the ill bred, ill mannered, rude, and pretentious Mr. Pool?” Drew shuddered in mock horror. “The idea that I might be required to sit and listen to that bag of wind for hours on end sends shivers up my spine.”
“You can laugh, Drew, because you don’t understand what it is like not to be received. At church or in any of the homes of the villagers. I’m not received anywhere respectable women are. When I offer to help with the church bazaars or visit the sick or provide charity for the needy, my efforts are met with hostility and scorn. The deacons’ wives refused to accept the Christmas and Easter hampers I donated for the poor. Everything I do must be done through Mrs. Tanglewood or Ally. The only place I’m accepted is Swanslea Park. When I leave the grounds, I’m a social pariah—an outcast.” She closed her eyes and bowed her head. “I despise Mr. Pool, and I don’t care to listen to his sermons. I do care that I’m barred from attending them. I do care that Kit isn’t allowed to attend services or receive the religious instruction he’s going to need later in life. I can teach him the catechism, but I can’t force the rector to confirm him. I can’t legitimize him.”
“I can,” Drew said.
Wren opened her eyes and stared into his chocolate brown ones. “Please, don’t tempt me with the one thing you know I can’t refuse. My reputation is ruined. Do you want to have your good name destroyed as well? Do you want to listen to the gossip about my relationship with your father? Or pretend to ignore the whispers of your friends and colleagues? Because that’s what will happen if you marry me. You may be able to overlook my past, but they won’t. Find someone else, Drew, because I can’t be the kind of wife—the kind of marchioness—you need.”
“You’re the marchioness I want,” he told her. “The one I desire.”
“For how long?” she demanded.
Drew recoiled. “I don’t deserve that.”
“You think not, but less than a week ago you wanted to throw me off your land and out of my home and you wanted to take my son. And that was before you offered me the dubious honor of becoming your mistress.”
“And I apologized for acting in anger.”
“Isn’t that what you’re doing now?” she asked.
“I don’t think so.” He removed his hat and placed it on the coach seat, then raked his fingers through his hair. “God’s nightshirt, Kathryn! I’m offering to marry you.”
“Because you’ve inherited the title? Because you have a duty to your family and the people who depend on you for their living? Because you must marry and sire a Ramsey heir?” She bit back the tears.
“Yes.”
“Because, as my husband, you’d regain the dowager cottage and the settlement George gave me? Because it’s convenient?” she asked.
“Yes,” he continued. “Because it’s convenient to desire the woman you marry and sensible to marry the woman you desire.” He expelled a long, frustrated breath. “And because we could both keep what we want.”
“What do you want, Drew?” she asked.
“You.”
“You heard the good reverend.” She managed a derisive snort. “You don’t have to marry me for that. And if that’s all you want from me, you shouldn’t marry me.”
“Why not?”
“There are any number of reasons,” she said softly. The main one being that he hadn’t mentioned loving her. And if she married him knowing that he no longer loved her, it would certainly break her heart.
“Name one,” he challenged.
“You need a wife who can give you children. I can’t do that. I can’t have any more children.”
Drew felt as if he’d taken a fist in the solar plexus. He sat back against the cushions of the seat, struggling to breathe and to make sense of what she’d told him. “What?”
“I can’t give you a legitimate heir. I can’t give you sons of your own.” Wren took a deep breath. “You do want children, don’t you?”
“I always saw them as part of my future, yes.”
“Then forget about marrying me. Because having more children cannot be a part of my future.” She turned her face away from his and stared out the window in a futile attempt to prevent him from knowing that she was crying.
“Kathryn.” He sat beside her, put his arm around her, and gently guided her head to his shoulder. “I already have an heir in Kit.”
“He’s not your son.”
“No, but he’s your son and my half-brother. And he could be our son. Once we’re married, I’ll adopt him. I’m very fond of Kit. He’s as much a Ramsey as I am and the family name would continue through him.”
“That kind of marriage wouldn’t be fair to you. We cannot be intimate…” She blushed. “Because I dare not risk conceiving another child…”
“Would conceiving a child endanger your life?” he asked.
“No,” she whispered. “But I cannot carry another child for fear of it dying.”
“Who told you this?”
“My father. He said it was the same with my mother.”
Drew tilted her chin up with his index finger and bent to kiss her. “There are ways to prevent conception. I know a number of them and we can learn other ways. Say you’ll marry me, Kathryn. It’s the perfect solution for all of us.”
She couldn’t refuse him. She couldn’t refuse the protection marriage to Drew would provide for her and for Kit. She couldn’t deny Kit his chance for legitimacy. But Wren couldn’t help but worry about Drew. What if he regretted his decision later? What would happen to them then? Could she be sure that he’d forgiven her? Could she face marrying him knowing that he might one day look at her with contempt?
She took a deep breath and asked Drew the hardest question she had ever asked in her life. “Knowing everything you know about me, knowing everything that your friends and colleagues are likely to say about me, knowing that there are things in my past neither of us can change, can you forgive that past and marry me without regret?”
Drew stared deep into her eyes and knew that their future happiness depended on how he answered. She had a past and she still kept secrets from that past, but he’d never wanted to marry anyone else. “The past is dead and buried, Kathryn. We can’t change it, but there’s no reason we can’t learn
to live with it and build a home for Kit and a future together.” He leaned forward and pressed his lips against her brow once. “Without regrets.”
“Then, I accept.”
He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. She hadn’t made a sound and she might not even have been aware of it, but a continuous line of tears were rolling down her cheeks. “All better?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“We’ve arrived at the undertaker’s.” Drew squeezed her hand in a comforting gesture. “I can attend to the details alone if you’d rather not face Mr. Smalley.”
Wren shook her head. “Mr. Smalley’s the only undertaker for miles around. He may be the only undertaker between here and London. If you attend to him in the same manner you attended to the rector, you may have to send to London for another undertaker.”
“Mr. Pool deserved what he got.”
“Mr. Pool deserved far worse. My concern is that you may conclude the same about Mr. Smalley.”
Drew groaned. “He can’t possibly be that bad.”
“He’s not as arrogant as Mr. Pool, but he’s every bit as unctuous and lecherous.”
“Has he made improper advances toward you?” Drew opened the door of the coach.
“I’m a widow,” Wren reminded him. “And widows are considered fair game. Nearly every widower or single man in the county has made improper suggestions or advances toward me—including you.” She glanced at him to gauge his reaction. “Why do you think George offered me his protection?”
Drew handed her down from the vehicle. “I had hoped it was because he loved you.”
She turned to him and smiled a dazzling smile that reminded Drew of all the reasons he’d fallen in love with her so long ago, a smile that gave him hope for a bright future. “He did love me,” she said, at last.
“But you should know that any love he felt for me paled in comparison to what he felt for you.”
Chapter Twenty-three
Once a Mistress Page 26