Page 96 of The Viscount and the Vixen
“They all love you.”
“I wouldn’t go that far. But my tragic life has made them more willing to make exceptions for me than they might for others.”
“I suspect a good many of the single ladies were hoping to drag you to the altar one day. Was there one you fancied?” She didn’t know why she’d never thought to ask before—perhaps because his popularity on paper had seemed distant—but having finally witnessed it in person, she found it impossible to ignore. He could have had anyone.
“Bit late to be asking that.”
He had sworn to never love but that didn’t mean that he hadn’t liked. She angled her chin. “You’re right. I daresay you couldn’t have cared for her very much if you were willing to give her up so easily and quickly for me.”
He grinned darkly, wickedly. “Trying to ease your conscience?”
“I possess no conscience to ease.”
“I don’t believe that. And no. There was no one I fancied enough to want to marry, and if I did fancy a lady, I walked in the opposite direction.”
Faced with the reality of his lack of interest in love, she found it rather sad. “Would you have really chosen someone you could never love?”
He arched a brow, gave her a pointed look.
“I don’t count. You didn’t choose me. I was forced on you. I simply can’t imagine you purposely seeking out someone who would make you miserable.”
“Marrying someone I loved would have made me miserable, worrying that I might lose her, might follow my father’s path toward lunacy.”
“You can’t judge love by your father’s experience. Or maybe you can. I believe while your mother lived that they had an incredibly happy life.”
“And when she died, he went mad.”
“I’m not so certain. He misses her, imagines she’s still with him. Is that so awful?”
“You had love in your first marriage and chose to give it up for the second go-round. What you sought for a second marriage isn’t so different from what I sought in my first. I was simply pragmatic and recognized the value of a loveless marriage sooner than you did.”
The final strains of the song lingered on the air as he brought them to a stop. “Ready to face the hordes again?”
She released a long sigh. “I suppose.”
“I’m not.”
The music started up and she again found herself in the circle of his arms, held tighter and nearer this time. She tossed back her head and laughed. “You’ll have people speculating that you’re madly in love with your wife, that you can’t stand the notion of giving her up.”
He didn’t respond, merely studied her intently, his green eyes boring into hers. “You enjoy dancing.”
“I love dancing.”
“Tonight others are going to want to dance with you.”
“I’ll politely decline.”
He shook his head. “No need on my account. I shall dance with other ladies. Out of politeness only, of course. As our arrangement requires that we show respect toward and for each other, especially in public.”
Their arrangement. She wanted their arrangement to go to the devil. But she had accepted the terms. The gift of the jewelry, the pride with which he introduced her, had caused her to think that perhaps he had begun to love her. How would the ladies of London feel to know he was a man with no heart? No, he had a heart. He just refused to open it to the possibility of love.
“If I dance with anyone else, it will be only out of politeness as well.” She moved the hand that rested on his shoulder slightly, just enough so she could skim her gloved finger along his jaw. “But I’ll save the last dance for you.”
And until she was in his arms again, she knew she’d be miserable.
He wasn’t jealous. He’d known men would want to dance with her and had encouraged her to dance with other partners. So this irrational need coursing through him to rip off limbs whenever a man took her in his arms was not jealousy. He didn’t know what it was other than dark and irritating.
“Here, drink this,” Ashe ordered. “You look as though you are on the verge of murdering someone.”
