Page 64 of Making of a Scandal
He met her gaze, his expression becoming mournful. “As a third son, I am not set to inherit a title, obviously. For the past few years, I’ve lived on my earnings as a courtesan, because my father cut me off financially. My fault, you should know. I’ve wrestled with a bit of a gambling problem … though I think I have it managed now. Anyway, until recently I’ve been content with my profession and the money it earned me to support myself. It doesn’t exactly make me a desirable marriage prospect.”
She rested a hand over his and leaned closer. “I do not think less of you for your past or your profession. I think … sometimes people do what they must, and there couldn’t have been many options afforded to you.”
“The alternative was to dance to my father’s tune. He’d never given me any reason to believe he cared about me other than my reflection on our family name. I am not his heir or his spare, and am therefore lower in his esteem than my elder brothers.”
“It isn’t as if you could help being born third.”
“Well, it is the lot I was cast. As I told you, I never thought to marry, because I have always despised being thought of as the castoff Burke son … the leftover scrap to be had only after the more desirable sons had been married off. So, I made no provisions for any sort of future that made room for another person.”
Her chest ached at the dejection in his tone, and she squeezed his hand. “Dominick, you do not have to do this. I don’t need—”
“My Uncle Paul is dying,” he blurted, lifting his head to look at her. “He is the father I should have had, the only person who ever believed I could amount to anything … and he is dying from an illness with no cure.”
His voice quavered as if he might be on the verge of tears, but he remained stalwart.
“Oh, I am so sorry,” she whispered. “I cannot imagine how you must feel.”
“It is difficult enough without the knowledge that he is set to leave me everything he owns upon his death. An estate—a rather large one—a smaller property in Cornwall, a London townhome, and … several thousand pounds.”
“I see,” she managed, uncertain what else she might say.
“Do you? I don’t want it, Callie. Not the land, the money, the houses. But, it does have the allure of giving me the means by which I might support a wife.”
A sudden tenderness overwhelmed her, making her want to take him into her arms and kiss him soundly.
“I do not need you to support me. I have my inheritance.”
“I may be a whore, but I’m still a man. If you think it would please me to wed you in order to get my hands on your money—”
“Of course I don’t think that,” she soothed, stroking the back of his hand with her fingers. “You’ve had a chance to earn quite a bit of my inheritance, but never made me feel as if you were greedy for more.”
“I just wanted you to know that when I tell you I want you, I don’t just mean physically. I’m serious about doing what I must to deserve you—even though I know it might take the rest of my life to get there.”
“Stop. You may not be perfect, but no man is. You’ve spent too long thinking so little of yourself, I think it is time that someone made you aware of your virtues. You are honest, charming, passionate, brave. I admire how genuine you are and envy you for it. I’ve had such a difficult time knowing how much of myself to trust others with, and how much to keep to myself. You make it seem so easy to simply exist without caring about the thoughts and opinions of anyone else.”
His cheeks went pink, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he wanted to smile. He seemed rather shy about accepting praise, which only made her angrier at his father. What sort of man made his own son feel worthless?
“I cannot promise you a grand title, or a spotless reputation. But, very shortly I’ll have everything else. All of it is yours, if you want it. If you can bring yourself to overlook that before you came into my life, I was nothing more than a degenerate and a whore. But, I’ll do my best to be better for you, Callie.”
Taking his face in her hands, she smiled, feeling as if she might burst with the emotion that overwhelmed her. It wasn’t the flowery proposal she had dreamed of as a girl, but it struck her as being far better. It had been so honest and true that she couldn’t help but think it the most romantic thing she’d ever heard.
“I don’t care about any of that. I just want you.”
“Then I’m yours,” he declared, leaning his forehead against hers and closing his eyes. “Christ, I cannot believe it. I never thought you would choose me over Lewes.”
“I’ve come to see that what I felt for him was infatuation, and I never really knew him. Besides, if someone is going to pursue me, I’d like to think he actually wantsme, not my inheritance.”
He opened his eyes. “I’m sorry. I knew of his financial troubles, but …”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“If you were ever going to choose me, I didn’t want you to do it because of that. It didn’t seem right, winning you that way.”
Which was exactly why he had won. She couldn’t fathom how they had arrived here from that first disastrous meeting, but chose not to question it. There was still an unsettling anxiety, her lingering fears reminding her of all the reasons she had avoided romantic entanglements. But, as she stood and urged him to join her, she pushed them aside. Fear had held her back for too long, and she was weary of it. This felt far too good to run away from, and now she would choose to embrace it instead.
“Come with me.”
He frowned when she tugged his hand, stumbling along in her wake. “Where are we going?”
