“I’m also perfectly sober.”
“Then you’re insane. It’s completely impossible.”
“May I ask why?”
A humorless sound huffed from between William’s lips. “In what way isn’t she impossible? First there’s the scandal in which she’s embroiled. That would taint not only you, but the entire family.”
“Once she and I are married the talk will cease. No one is going to speak ill of the Earl of Crandall’s sister-in-law.”
“Even if that’s true—which I’m not conceding, by the way—there is the issue of her age. The entire reason I asked you to marry is to produce an heir. Miss Markham is hardly in her first bloom of youth.”
“Neither is she in her dotage.”
“What if she is unable to conceive?”
“There is no reason to believe she can’t. Nor is there any guarantee that any of the younger women at last night’s soiree would be able to.”
William dragged his hands down his face. “Good God, Alec. Why her? I paraded a roomful of beauties in front of you last evening.”
Alec wasn’t certain how to explain something he was at a loss to understand himself. “I don’t feel anything for any of those women.”
“Given your promise to marry as soon as possible, had you believed you’d make a love match?”
“No. But I’d hoped to at least feel something for my future wife. And I feel something for Miss Markham.”
“Yes—a misguided sense of responsibility.”
“It’s more than that, William.”
“How can that be? You just met the woman yesterday. You’ve known Lady Sarah and some of the other party guests for years.”
“I may have only been introduced to Miss Markham yesterday, but through my relationship with her brother I feel as if I know her very well.”
“You claim you feel more for her than responsibility. What else could you possibly feel? Unless it’s pity?”
“I cannot deny I am sympathetic toward her plight. But it’s more than that. I feel an undeniable …” His voice trailed off, uncertain what to call the raging heat she inspired in him.
William studied him through narrowed eyes. “You don’t mean … surely you can’t mean lust?”
Somehow lust seemed too tame a word for the inferno that had incinerated him last night, but as Alec couldn’t think of another, he nodded. “Yes.”
William’s jaw dropped. “Now I know you’re jesting.”
Alec’s jaw tightened. “You’re implying Miss Markham isn’t the sort of woman to inspire lust?”
“I’m not implying it at all—I’m saying it outright.”
“I disagree.”
“But … but … how can that be?”
“I don’t know,” Alec said in a chilly tone, “but it is. And you should be glad for it as it will certainly aid in the heir-begetting activities. I’ll also remind you that you are speaking of my future wife and the future mother of the next Earl of Crandall.”
Color rose on William’s cheeks. “I was not trying to be insulting—”
“Yet you were.”
“I’m certain that except for the scandal she’s a very nice woman—”
“She is.”
“But—”
“No ‘buts,’ William. It is my choice and she is who I want.” Alec looked into his brother’s eyes, then asked quietly, “Do you want my happiness?”
William raked his hands through his hair. “Of course I do.”
“Then accept my choice. While I appreciate the party and your efforts to find me a bride, I wouldn’t be happy married to a society chit whose life revolves around Town and soirees. I want to live quietly in the country. With someone who shares my interests.” And whom I cannot keep my hands off of.
William leaned back in his leather chair and studied him for several long seconds. Finally he blew out a deep breath and nodded. “Very well, Alec. It’s not the choice I would make, but it’s not my choice to make. I know it wasn’t your preference to even marry and that you’re only doing so because I asked it of you. Therefore I’ll respect your decision—especially since it’s obvious you won’t change your mind.”
“You’re correct—I won’t.”
“Which means I’ve lost my wager with Jane, blast it all.”
Alec nearly grinned at his brother’s disgruntled tone. “You’re forgetting that Jane also lost her wager with you.”
William brightened a bit at that reminder. “Yes, she did, didn’t she?” He rose and held out his hand. “Congratulations, Alec. I wish you every happiness. And many sons.”
Alec shook his hand. “Thank you. Now about the wedding … I was thinking of this afternoon, if that’s convenient for you.”
William blinked. “You wish to get married today?”
“Yes—provided I am able to secure a special license this morning, although I’m not anticipating any problem in doing so. And provided that Miss Markham agrees.” He rose. “I’ll speak to her now, then hopefully be off to the Archbishop’s office at Doctor’s Commons for the license.”
“And what if Miss Markham wants a fancier wedding and for the banns to be posted?”
“Then that is what she shall have. But I don’t believe that will be important to her.” At least Alec prayed it wouldn’t be. The mere thought of waiting three weeks to finish what they’d started in the gallery last night clenched his hands into fists.
“Very well. While you’re proposing and procuring the license, I’ll speak to Jane about transforming the drawing room into a wedding chapel.”
“Thank you, William. Perhaps Jane would also agree to arrange for Miss Markham to have whatever it is brides require to ready themselves for their wedding.”
“Consider it done.”
They shook hands again, then Alec quit the room. After closing the door behind him, he pulled in a bracing breath. He’d convinced William.
Now all he had to do was convince the bride.
Chapter Seven
Thank you for seeing me so promptly, Miss Markham,” said Captain Trentwell.
Penelope stood in the library and faced the man responsible for her sleepless night. The man who had kissed her senseless and opened a floodgate of feelings and sensations, of wants and desires she had no idea how to dam up. A massive mahogany desk stood between them, a fact for which she was grateful as the more distance separating them the better, lest she give in to the nearly overwhelming temptation to rush into his arms and beg him to make her feel that incredible magic again.
However, any hopes she’d harbored that he’d welcome another opportunity to kiss her withered at his stern, serious expression and stiff posture, and the fear that lurked in the back of her mind raced to the forefront—had his brother heard of the Italy scandal? Was she about to be dismissed?
Forcing a calm she was far from feeling and one she prayed disguised the full-body blush heating her skin, she said, “Your note indicated you wished to speak to me as soon as possible.”
“Yes.” He nodded at the chair next to her. “Please sit.”
Even though her knees felt less than steady, she shook her head. “I’d prefer to stand.”
“Very well. I’m sorry to inform you that word of what occurred in Italy is the latest gossip fodder.”
Penelope’s stomach dropped and she grasped the back of the chair to steady herself. “I see.” She drew a deep breath, then raised her chin. “I’m afraid I suspected as much. And of course I fully understand the ramifications, Captain Trentwell, of the impossibility of you and your family risking any hint of the scandal surrounding me attaching itself to you.” A crushing sense of loss pressed down on her, and to her mortification hot tears pushed behind her eyes. “Naturally I release you from your offer to paint your portraits. And now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll see to packing my things.”
She turned to leave, anxious to quit the room before she suffered further humiliation by him seeing the tears she wasn’t certain she could keep at bay much longer. She�
��d barely taken a step toward the door when his voice halted her.
“Miss Markham.”
Penelope briefly closed her eyes and fought for composure. Remaining facing away from him, she asked, “Was there something else, Captain Trentwell?”
“Yes. I wished to give you this.”
Damnation, now she’d have to face him. She drew a deep breath and turned. And found him standing a mere arm’s length away. “You dropped this in the corridor last night,” he said.
She looked down and saw he held her sketch pad. Heat rushed into her face. Clearly she’d dropped it when he’d kissed her. She hadn’t noticed it was missing, nor had she given it a single thought. No doubt because she’d been unable to think of anything other than him and their kiss since the instant he’d touched his mouth to hers.
She took the pad, ignoring the warmth that sizzled up her arm when their fingers brushed. “Thank you. And now if you’ll excuse me—”
This time he stopped her by lightly grasping her arm. “Actually, there is more I wish to discuss with you.”
Penelope prayed he didn’t feel the tremor of delight that ran through her at his touch. She had to lock her knees to keep herself from leaning toward him like a flower seeking sunlight. “Very well, I’m listening.”
“You may recall I mentioned last night my intention to marry.”
Given the pain that had knifed through her at the news, she wasn’t apt to forget. “Yes. In order to hopefully produce a male heir.”
“Yes. I wanted to tell you that I’ve decided upon a wife.”
An ache she couldn’t name suffused Penelope. Her hands tightened around her sketch pad and she swallowed hard. Dear God, she wanted, needed to get out of here. Now. Before the tears she valiantly held back burst forth.
“Congratulations, sir. I hope you and the future Mrs. Trentwell enjoy every happiness.”
“Thank you. As do I.” His gaze searched hers with an expression she couldn’t decipher other than to know it weakened her already unsteady knees. “Do you think I could make you happy, Miss Markham?”
Confusion assailed her. “I don’t understand—”
Her words chopped off when he lowered himself to one knee before her and slipped a square velvet box from his waistcoat pocket. He opened the box’s hinged lid to reveal a slim gold ring set with a single perfect pearl. “Miss Markham, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Penelope could only be thankful her jaw was attached as it otherwise would have dropped to the floor. She stared into his very serious dark blue eyes and blinked, certain he and this entire scenario was a figment of her desire-addled imagination. When he still remained kneeling before her after half a dozen blinks, she managed to say, “I beg your pardon?”
“I asked you to marry me.”
Dear God, she had heard him correctly. Which could only mean one thing. She leaned toward him and sniffed.
One dark brow shot upward. “Do I … smell?”
Utterly confounded, Penelope shook her head. “No.”
“You sound surprised.”
“Frankly, I’m shocked. I thought for certain you’d reek of brandy.”
He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like Why does everyone think I’ve been drinking? “I am not foxed.”
“Then I cannot imagine why you would ask me to marry you.”
“Can’t you?” Before she could speak, he rose to his feet. After slipping her sketch pad from her nerveless fingers and setting it and the ring on the desk, he lightly clasped her hands, entwining their fingers. “I am in need of a wife. You are without means, income, or a place to live. It is a perfect solution to both our problems.”
“But we only met yesterday! We barely know each other.” Yet even as she said the words, her heart rejected them. For thanks to Edward’s letters she felt as if she did know this man. And had known him for years.
His gaze searched hers. “Did we just meet? It doesn’t seem that way. I feel as if I’ve known you for years.”
His words that so clearly mirrored her thoughts tingled heat down her spine. “I fear you haven’t given this matter sufficient thought, Captain. What of the scandal surrounding me and the fact that Lord and Lady Bentley are dead set against me?”
“The gossip will cease once we’re married.”
A humorless sound escaped her. “Surely you don’t believe that. If anything, a hasty wedding will only increase the gossip and rile Lord and Lady Bentley further.”
“The talk will eventually die down, and what they or anyone else thinks of is no significance to me. The only opinion that is important to me in this matter is yours. Therefore, I shall ask you again. Will you marry me?”
It actually frightened her how much she wanted to say yes. He was offering her all the dreams she’d set aside years ago—for a husband, a home of her own, a child—yet how could she accept? While he’d made light of the scandal, she’d lived with Lord and Lady Bentley long enough to know how vicious gossip could be amongst the ton and how entire families could suffer from the behavior of one member. Captain Trentwell’s honor, his loyalty to Edward had driven him to make this rash offer, one she was certain he’d regret once he had time to think about it. Therefore, although her heart yearned to accept him, she shook her head.
“Your offer is uncommonly generous, Captain, and I cannot tell you how much I appreciate it. It only further proves you are worthy of the deep admiration Edward felt for you, a high regard I assure you I share. Clearly you feel a responsibility toward me, but there is no need for you to do so.”
Something that looked like guilt flickered in his eyes, but was gone before she could decide. “I am not proposing out of a sense of responsibility. I am doing so because I need a wife and I believe that we are well suited. I need an heir and I believe you will make an excellent mother.”
His words, while certainly more practical than romantic, touched something deep inside her. Still, she forced herself to say, “Thank you. However, I cannot allow you to make such a sacrifice.”
“I assure you I’m sacrificing nothing.”
“How can you say that? You should be proposing to one of those beautiful young women you danced with last night.”
“I’m proposing to the beautiful woman I kissed last night.”
Disappointment slapped her that he’d resort to insincere flattery and to her horror her bottom lip trembled. “Captain Trentwell, I beg you cease this nonsense. I realize you are only trying to be kind, however it is not necessary to utter such absurdities.”
“I am being neither kind nor absurd. Rather, I am being practical as us marrying is the perfect solution to both our situations. And I’m being honest. I find you delightful. Fascinating. And extremely attractive. Has no one ever told you that your eyes are extraordinary and your smile is absolutely dazzling?”
“Perhaps my mother, but aside from her, no.”
“Then you weren’t listening, because I just told you.”
Whatever she might have said in response died in her throat when he released one of her hands and stroked a gentle fingertip down her cheek. “ ‘Beauty in things exists merely in the mind which contemplates them,’ ” he quoted softly.
Penelope swallowed to locate her missing voice. “David Hume,” she murmured.
He nodded. “The fact that you recognize the words of my favorite philosopher is just one of the many things about you I find so attractive.”
A blush warmed her cheeks. “Anyone would know that, Captain.”
“You’re wrong. Not one of those supposed beauties from last night engaged my interest. But you …” He brushed the pad of his thumb over her lower lip and Penelope’s heart jumped. “You captivated me with your smile. Your laughter. Your talent and intelligence. I had no desire to kiss any of those women, yet I couldn’t not kiss you.” He regarded her gravely. “You should know that I don’t care for Town life, therefore we would live quietly in Little Longstone. My home there isn’t a grand estate, but I
think you’d find it very comfortable. Would that meet with your approval?”
“Of course. But—”
Her words halted when he stepped closer and their bodies lightly bumped. “You should also know that because the goal is to produce an heir, preferably as soon as possible, it will of course be necessary to consummate the marriage.” He leaned forward and nuzzled her neck with his warm lips. “Preferably as soon as possible.”
Her heart stuttered. Since her voice seemed to have gone missing, she did the only thing she could—tilt her head to give him better access.
“And as frequently as possible,” he murmured, drawing her closer until they touched from chest to knee.
“H … how frequently?” she asked, her words ending on a soft gasp of delight when he touched his tongue to the base of her throat, then lightly sucked on her skin.
He kissed his way up her neck to her jaw, then brushed his mouth over hers. “Every day. Several times. At least.”
Oh, my. Everything inside her screamed for her not to question this opportunity further, to grab it before he changed his mind. She’d long ago given up hoping for a marriage proposal, let alone one from a handsome, heroic, dashing man who could wobble her knees by the simple act of breathing.
He ran the tip of his tongue over her bottom lip. “Do you think you could do that … Penelope?”
The sound of her name whispered in the husky rasp had her fingers curling into the soft wool of his jacket. Could she? Dear God, did he even need to ask? Surely there wasn’t a woman in the entire kingdom who wouldn’t give a limb to be bedded by this man. Every day. Several times. At least.
“Yes, but—”
“Excellent.” His mouth came down on hers and with a groan she couldn’t contain Penelope rose on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck. And in a heartbeat found herself crushed against him. Since that was precisely where she’d ached to be since the moment she’d walked away from him last night, she eagerly parted her lips, a silent plea to deepen the kiss which he immediately answered, caressing her tongue with his.
Dear God, he tasted so delicious. Like mint and cinnamon with a dash of danger mixed in. The heat that seemed to pump from his body surrounded her, saturating her with warmth and his woodsy, clean scent. Closer … she wanted, needed, to be closer to him and his thrilling hardness that pressed between her thighs in a manner that had her clinging to him as if her life depended upon it. The folds between her legs felt swollen and heavy and she squirmed against him in an attempt to relieve the pulsing ache.
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