Page 65 of Who Wants to Marry a Duke
“It was. It is.” He smiled. “Thankfully, she has all of us to lean on.”
Olivia shifted to lie on her back, staring up at the canopy. “Oh, but that’s not the same, and you know it. I can’t imagine being used to having a husband, and somehow having him torn from me through no fault of my own. Even once would be awful. But three times? That would be horrible.”
She had a point. And he did know Mother had suffered. It was a vote for never marrying, in his opinion. Yet Mother obviously didn’t feel that way.
“To be honest,” he said, “our mother only truly loved one of her husbands—in the grandiose sense of a romantic love for the ages, that is.”
Olivia turned to stare at him. “Your father, you mean. The one Mama said had a mistress.”
“Yes. Though I’m not entirely sure I believe your stepmother on that score anymore.”
“But you used to, apparently. Is that why you don’t put any stock in love and happiness in marriage?” she whispered. “Because of what Mama said about your parents?”
Damn. They’d wandered into a subject he’d rather not discuss just now. He knew he must make an offer for Olivia’s hand, but he wasn’t ready to do so.
You’re afraid she’ll turn you down again, his conscience whispered.
That wasn’t true. He wasn’t afraid of anything.
Yet here he was, talking around the fact that she deserved better. He shook off that thought.
“Well?” she persisted. “Is that why you don’t believe in love and happiness? Because of what Mama told you?”
He sighed. “Partly. But partly because I’ve seen firsthand how unhappy a marriage can be.” He turned the tables on her. “And so have you. You said yourself that your stepmother might as well be a widow given how often your father leaves her alone.”
“Yes, but I don’t think their marriage is unhappy. They don’t fight. They just . . . don’t do much of anything together. Neither did Papa and my mother, to the extent that I can recall. He’s just . . . not the marrying sort. I suspecthehas a mistress. Or a string of them. Although honestly, I don’t know for certain. He would never be so foolish as to flaunt them.” She met his gaze steadily. “So whose unhappy marriage did you witness ‘firsthand’? Your mother’s to your stepfather?”
“Not them. Like your parents, they weren’t unhappy exactly. But neither were they in love. They made a practical match, and it served them well. I think they had true affection for each other . . . just not the sort of romantic love the poets praise.” He smoothed a lock of her hair over her shoulder. “In fact, I would hazard a guess they were happy precisely because love didnotenter into their marriage.”
“So, once again, not an ‘unhappy’ marriage you’ve ‘seen firsthand.’ I wager you’re just using that as an excuse for why you continue as a carefree bachelor.”
He tensed.Offer for her, you arse. That’s what she wants.
Damn his conscience. Instead, he said, “Trust me, I’ve witnessed plenty of unhappy society unions from the viewpoint of various married women’s beds. They thought being bedded by me would make up for the misery of their marriages. They thought wrong.”
“‘Various married women’s beds’?” A pained expression crossed her face. “How many?”
Why must he keep blathering things that only made the situation worse? He definitely didn’t want to talk about how many women he’d bedded. Not withher, anyway. “Enough to make me skeptical of my prospects for happiness with the typical society bride. The young ladies trying to capture my affections only wanted me because I’m a wealthy duke. They never cared about me in particular. For that matter, neither did any of those married women. I was always just a means to an end.”
She eyed him askance. “How can you be sure of that? With the young ladies, I mean.”
“I just am.” He shifted to lie on his side, facing her. “Must we talk about this now?” Slipping his hand over her breast, he pressed a kiss to her lips. “I can think of any number of things more enjoyable to do.”
Despite his fondling of her bountiful breast, she seemed to hesitate. Then with a forced smile, she slid her hand behind his head to pull him back for another kiss.
He was safe. Hewouldoffer for her, just not at this very moment. Not while they still had these few hours alone.
Scoundrel. Blackguard. Reprobate.
Yes, he was all those things. And he meant to be them a short while longer. There was plenty of time later for offering marriage.
Chapter Thirteen
As she awakened, Olivia looked for Thorn, but he’d left her bed. And judging from the bright sunshine flooding the room, that was probably wise of him. Still, there was no reason forherto rush around, now that he was gone.
She pulled the covers up to her chin with a sigh of pure contentment. Thorn had made love to hertwice. And though he’d left her rather sore after the second time, she still couldn’t help feeling like a woman. Not a girl anymore, although obviously she hadn’t been a girl in some time.
A woman, yes.Hiswoman.
