She sighed. “My reputation is ruined, Weston. There would be little benefit in marrying me for the sake of your children.” She paused. “Especially Charlotte.”
It did not, however, escape his notice that she didn’t say no, so he was encouraged. It appeared the young lady at least considered his outlandish proposal. “I’m the Marquess of Beaufort.”
“My how arrogant you are, my lord.” The rebuke was softened by the sparkle in her eyes. Her lips pulled at the corners in the first, real smile he’d seen on her heart-shaped face.
He froze. The smile transformed her from rather pretty young lady to stunningly beautiful woman. He trailed his gaze over the delicate planes of her face. How had he failed to appreciate the extent of her beauty before this moment? How—
Her grin slipped. “What?”
He gave his head a clearing shake. “Charlotte is just a child. When she makes her Come Out, Society will not even remember—”
Patrina burst into laughter. “You are delusional then, my lord. The ton remembers scandals such as the one I’m guilty of.”
Weston balled his hands into fists. He’d wager the totality of his holdings that the sole blame rested with the cad who’d ruined her good reputation. No, the innocent Patrina’s one crime was tossing her love away on an undeserving bounder. God, how he detested the fiend.
Patrina cleared her throat. “I thank you for your offer, my lord, but I could not in good conscience risk your children’s reputations, even if they do need a mother.” She averted her gaze. “It is quite enough I’ve ruined my sisters’ reputations.” She dipped a curtsy and turned as if to leave then started for the door.
Hell, she did intend to leave. With just that perfunctory no. Weston closed the distance between them in three long strides. He laid his hands upon her shoulders. She stiffened but did not pull away. He leaned down and brushed his lips against the elegant line of her neck. “What if I tell you I want more than a mother for my children? What if I tell you I want you?”
Her body trembled and he continued to make tender love to her neck with his lips. “I-I would say you’re mad, my lord.”
He moved his attention to the other side of her neck. “Perhaps I am, Patrina. I want you. And though you do not love me, I will give you a family of your own, I will give you children, and I will show you the pleasure to be had in my arms.” He lazily turned her back to face him.
The tendons in her throat moved with her swallow.
“Marry me.”
She studied him a long moment. He could practically see the flurry of questions in her intelligent eyes. Patrina closed her eyes a moment. When she opened them, he stiffened and braced for her rejection.
She gave a tight nod. “Yes, my lord. I’ll marry you.”
CHAPTER 11
The winter wind battered against the frosted windowpanes of her brother’s office.
Patrina stared at her brother’s bent head. Just as she’d been staring at it for…Her gaze strayed over to the mantle clock. Seven minutes now.
With a sigh, she looked over at her sister-in-law. Juliet stood at the edge of Jonathan’s desk. She frowned at her husband.
When Patrina had been a girl of six, she’d placed ink inside her nursemaid’s tea. She’d been summoned to her father’s office and stood before the very desk she now stood, shuffling back and forth upon her feet awaiting the inevitable scolding.
This moment felt remarkably similar.
In fact, the prolonged pall of awkward silence was so vast she wondered if she’d not spoken the thoughts a—
“No.” Jonathan did not pick his gaze up from the ledgers in front of him.
No, she’d spoken and her brother had heard. He’d merely not enjoyed hearing what she’d had to say to him. She cast a silent appeal in Juliet’s direction.
The other woman placed her palms on the edge of his desk and leaned forward. “Put your pen down now, Jonathan, and do not be a curt beast.”
He tossed his pen down and glared at Patrina. “Very well. You may not marry him. Thank you for asking.”
This time. He might as well have thrown those last two words dancing about the air.
She took a step closer and borrowed strength from the back of the leather chair opposite his desk. “I wasn’t asking, Jonathan,” she said gently.
Her brother leaned back in his chair with a glower on his usually affable face. “I didn’t intervene before when I should have, Trina,” he said, using her girlhood moniker. “I’m intervening now. I’ll not have you wed a man you’ve just met—”
“Six days ago,” she supplied.
“Fine, a week then. To what purpose? So he can have a mother for his ill-behaved children?”
She bristled. Though she’d held similar thoughts to Weston’s children from their first meeting, for some reason, Jonathan’s ill-opinion of them grated. She came out from behind the seat. “They’re lovely children.” Of course there was the whole business of throwing snowballs, but hadn’t her sisters exhibited far more lamentable behaviors?
He shook his head and picked up his pen. “I said no. I’ll find you a gentleman who will love you and take care of you and—”
A bark of laughter escaped her. “You are so very high-handed.”
He tossed his pen down. “I love you,” he said simply. “I failed you before. I’ll not fail you again. You deserve a husband who will love you.” Heavy regret laced his pronouncement.
“I lost the right to love when I eloped with Albert,” she said with a bluntness that made her sister-in-law wince.
Except…Patrina thought back to earlier in the day. Warmth unfurled in her belly until she fair burned with the sheer memory of Weston’s hands upon her naked shoulders, his lips on her neck. What if I tell you I want more than a mother for my children? What if I tell you I want you?
Her brother shoved back his chair and jumped to his feet.
“Jonathan,” Juliet murmured, with a pointed look.
He raked a hand through his tousled black locks and began to pace. “What manner of gentleman would ask you to give up all hope of happiness just to care for his children?”
“You did,” Juliet said gently.
Jonathan jerked to a halt. Patrina bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. He stood still, unblinking. Then a mottled flush stained his neck and cheeks. “That is—”
“True,” Juliet said arching a red eyebrow.
He cursed. “This is different.”
“How?” Patrina pressed.
Jonathan resumed pacing. “Because…because…damn it, you’re my sister and I was a worthless scoundrel. Just as Beaufort is for even daring to ask.”
Juliet made a sound of protest.
He waved a hand. “It is true. I wasn’t deserving of Juliet, but she managed to overlook the wrongs I committed against her. But you…”
“I want to marry him, Jonathan. I want a family of my own. And a home of my own.” And if she didn’t want to spend the rest of her days the sad, sorry spinster to the Earl of Sinclair remembered by her family and Society as one who’d made a great mistake that robbed her of respectability, she’d accept Weston’s generous offer.