Page 29 of My One and Only Duke
Kissed him like she’d meant it from the heart.
She had trusted him to safeguard her future, taken him at his word, and never once inquired into his guilt. Quinn knew better than to hope for some marital fairy tale, but her kiss had been stubbornly unforgettable.
“If you want an annulment,” he said, “I’ll notify the requisite bishop, and you’ll have your freedom. The sum put in trust for you will remain yours to do with as you please.”
For yet more sums, any word of their prison ceremony would be stricken from memory, and Quinn would go on with his life as before, getting and spending.
While he also hunted the varlet who’d sent him to an ignominious death.
“Would you like an annulment?” she asked, folding her hands over her belly. “If you’re laboring under the notion that a gentleman doesn’t cry off, you needn’t be so delicate.”
She thought him a gentleman? “I spoke vows, Jane. I keep my word. At times, my word has been the only possession I had of any value. Once broken, it will never mend as strong as it was before. I make an exception in the case of our vows because nobody could have foreseen that I’d walk out of that prison. If you decide to honor your promises, then we will be man and wife in every meaningful sense.”
She wiggled around on the bench, like a hen on a nesting box. “Do you drink to excess?”
Gordie MacGowan deserved to roast in hell. “I drink strong spirits only sparingly. The last time I got drunk I was twelve years old.”
“Would you raise your hand to me in anger?”
On second thought, hell was too good for MacGowan. “I will never raise my hand to you. I will probably raise my voice, and you are free to do likewise in response.”
She considered Quinn frankly, and he resisted the urge to look away. “I might enjoy that,” she said. “Shouting matches instead of sermonizing would be a novelty. I might enjoy that rather a lot.”
In her shabby cloak and mended gloves, Jane was yet dignified. Quinn liked that about her. Liked that she could interrogate him despite the upheaval of the day—she’d had a shock, after all—and he liked that his finery hadn’t intimidated her. He’d also like more of her kisses, provided those kisses were freely given.
“Shall we be married, Jane? I will never be a doting swain, never shower you with flattery or romantic nonsense. You and your children will know every material comfort, and I’ll make every effort not to annoy you.”
The coach swayed around a corner, while Quinn made himself wait for Jane’s answer. He could go on, elaborating settlement terms—pin money, dower portions, morning gifts, life estates, and so forth. He could warn Jane in detail regarding the obstreperous trio he called siblings, or he could ask her if she had any more questions.
This was not, however, a negotiation at the bank.
“You mention children, plural,” Jane said. “You expect to have a family with me.”
A duke was expected to have heirs. Quinn had come to this realization while soaking in the first tub of truly hot water he’d enjoyed in weeks. For himself, he wanted nothing to do with a title, much less with paying off debts the king was too miserly to take on. Nonetheless, Quinn was damned if he’d set an ailing dukedom to rights just so the Crown could snatch his wealth away through escheat.
“I would like to have a family with you.”
She treated him to a frowning perusal. “Why haven’t you married? You’re well to do, gorgeous, and temperate.”
“Because I have been busy becoming well to do, and any woman who’d leap at a man simply because an accident of nature made him attractive is asking for trouble.”
She laughed. “Touché, Mr. Wentworth, and Gordie was far from temperate. Still, you are a handsome devil, you can be charming, and you’re of age.”
Quinn had no problem discussing money, which was vulgar of him in the extreme. Discussing his appeal to women made him want to dive from the moving coach.
“My antecedents are lowly, my trade is finance, and my nature is difficult. I hold mortgages on nearly a quarter of the recently purchased homes in Mayfair, and can’t ride in the park without running into some viscount or baron who has sought an unsecured loan from my bank. The only club to admit me hasn’t a lord to its name. Finding a young lady who can overlook my shortcomings would require time I don’t have.”
Quinn was being honest, though soon enough, Jane would find out how very lowly his antecedents were—and how lofty his title. He refused to tempt her with a tiara, though, when he’d be the man sharing her bed.
“I like you,” Jane said, which pronouncement left Quinn more uneasy than ever. “You were decent to Ned and Davies. You fed the birds.”
He’d fed the birds for entertainment. “Ned and Davies will be employed in my household, as will Susie, Penny, and Sophie, if they so choose.”
“I also respect you.”
What in seven flaming hells was he to say to that?
“We spoke vows,” Jane went on. “I did not anticipate becoming your wife, but I much prefer it to being your widow. I’ll honor my vows if you’ll honor yours.”
