“Marry you! Is that an order?” Lavinia stood up and grabbed the comb from the edge of the desk. “How absurd. You cannot be serious.”
“I thought you more sensible than most women.” He wasn’t surprised at her reaction, but he was disappointed.
She eyed him with suspicion. Did she not think it a compliment? He plunged ahead. “I was hoping you would see this as a practical solution to a bothersome problem.”
“Bothersome problem?” The sound she made was a cross between humor and disbelief. She put the comb back down on the desk, circled the room once, going nowhere near the door, and then came back to stand in front of him.
“Marriage seems an extreme solution to a problem no more than ‘bothersome.’” She looked down at the blotter and then at him. “You would be willing to sacrifice your freedom and allow me into your home?”
“Yes.” His disappointment ebbed, swamped by surprise. Was she considering it?
“You do understand that I would not leave Harry or Sara?”
“Of course not—they are welcome here.”
“You know that my brother must agree?”
“I am sure I can convince him “
Lavinia shook her head. “Despite his indifference, he does have plans for me.”
“Plans?”
“Yes. One of his friends, a man named Brocklin, has expressed an interest in marriage.”
“And do you share that interest?” He did his best to keep his voice level.
“Not at all. He is vulgar and cruel. It is only that Desmond might not be agreeable to another plan.”
“Oh, I think I can convince him.”
Her gaze flitted to his hands, one fisted in the other, and he made himself relax them. “Now you are being absurd. I will not use brute force, I promise you. Stewart has earned it, but you deserve better than scandal. It is what I am trying to avoid.”
“You know that I would make changes.”
“Yes. What woman would not? After dealing with Mrs. Newcomb’s ideas, I feel I am prepared.”
“And is that why you are proposing? To rid yourself of Mrs. Newcomb? Is she as much a ‘bothersome problem’ as the gossip?”
“This is not a teasing matter, Lavinia.” He suspected that those two words—bothersome problem—would haunt him forever. “I want to marry you. I want you to marry me.”
“But how can you want that? The last time we were alone together you called me a shrew.”
“No, the last time we were alone you held a sword and you were ready to use it. At that moment I finally understood how difficult your life has been. How your brother has forsworn his most basic responsibility: to keep you safe. How every man is a threat to you. Even me.”
Lavinia fingered the comb again but left it on the desk. “I would remove that painting immediately.” She pointed to the one with the brace of birds that she had referred to on her first visit.
He stood up and took it from the wall. Setting it on the floor, he put the image of the dead animals against the wall so they would not disturb her again.
When he turned back to her, she was seated. Her head was bent, but he could see tears on her cheeks.
When she raised her face to him he saw both embarrassment and irritation. “Ignore them.” She gave an unladylike sniff and the tears slowed.
“Ignore the tears?” He gave her his handkerchief and sat next to her so that the desk was no longer between them. “Asking me to ignore your tears is like ordering me to overtake a ship of the line in a rowboat. Impossible.”
“It is only that moving that picture was such a lovely gesture.”
“So lovely that it has moved you to tears?” he asked, unable to hide his puzzlement.
“Oh, it is not you who have caused the tears. It is not you at all. Do you not understand that tears are the only recourse of the powerless?”
“Then I wonder how you define power, Miss Stewart.”
“You see, Captain, I have insisted for so long that I am not without power. But the truth is that I am totally at the mercy of my brother’s whims, as much a dependent as the children.”
“Now that I know what those whims entail, I can see how his notion of power would distress you.”
“Yes, precisely,” Lavinia said. “Your proposal makes me realize that being powerless will be my lot in life. I have only been lying to myself if I think otherwise.”
“You think my proposal would be nothing more than trading one kind of control for another?”
“Yes, and not at all necessary if only I had my own money and the control of it. But I have no money and a single woman is rarely allowed control. But if I did, I could manage, for I assure you I am not helpless. Not feeble. Not weak.” She had leaned a little closer with each “not.” She leaned back again. “I am only powerless.”
He shook his head. “It would be a great mistake were anyone to mistake you for weak, feeble, or helpless. I saw you with a weapon in hand, ready to murder to protect yourself. That was power, Lavinia.”
“It was? Yes, I suppose it was even if born of desperation.” She considered it and a little smile worked its way through the upset. “I like the idea that I can take care of myself and that at least one person believes it of me.”
She drew a deep breath and after a thoughtful silence she spoke. “When I first met you, I thought Angus and even Dolley were in the same position as the children and me. Or even worse, for you used a switch on Angus. You used a whip on a child.” She shuddered a little. “I hated you for using your power that way.”
She stood again and put some distance between them. Was she restless or nervous? Or was it fear?
“In time I came to see that none of your staff feels threatened. They obey your commands without question, but they do not feel threatened,” she repeated. “And Angus loves you like a father.”
The edge of wonder in her voice told him that this still confused her.
“Your power is as complete as Desmond’s, but far less selfish, almost totally unselfish.”
He winced. She was making him into a model of goodness. He had only to think of his reason for marriage to know that “unselfish” was far down on his list of admirable qualities.
“You do not agree, Captain? Then I ask you, if you are not generous, why do you have a household staff unaccustomed to shore life and an energetic boy in residence?”
He chuckled. “Yes, they do not seem essential to a officer’s life, do they?”
“You use your power for good while Desmond uses it as a convenience for indulgence, gratification.”
He did not reply. For him, marriage would be convenient and very gratifying.
“A marriage in name only would relieve you of the burden of managing Talford Rise.” She stopped her pacing. “Why do you not hire a housekeeper?”
“Because I am not interested in a marriage in name only.”
“Oh.” She blushed and dropped her gaze. “Of course not. You would expect us to sleep together.” She made it a statement.
“Yes.” He took a step nearer. “There. You see? I am not the hero you imagine. Holding you and lying with you is the reward for my generosity.”
She was standing by the desk and picked up the comb again. “I had always hoped to find some romance in a courtship.”
“I am sorry, Lavinia, but this is not about love. I do believe we can deal well enough together, but if you expect undying devotion from me...” He let his voice trail off, afraid that he was sabotaging his own proposal.
She tucked the comb into her hair and shook her head firmly, “I would be selling myself.”
“Yes, you would.” When she was surprised at his frank agreement he went on. “What do you think you would be doing if you went to London? Parading your admirable self in hopes of attracting someone who will give exactly what I am offering.”
She shook her head and turned from him.
“In many ways you are better prepared for a decision than you would be in London.”
“Because?” she asked, looking over her shoulder briefly.
“We have seen each other at our worst and our best. That knowledge came unobstructed by the facade and fripperies the ton lives by.”
She remained silent, which made him think that he was making headway with this argument.
“Here we have come to know each other without the constraints of the Season. It has been unconventional, but even Mrs. Newcomb would agree that it is a courtship nonetheless.”
Lavinia walked to the window seat and sat down in the middle of it, her face turned from him so that he could only see her profile. He joined her on the seat and she moved a little so that he could fit in the space next to her. Their bodies barely touched and he judged it acceptable to her since she did not move away.
“Lavinia Stewart, I will give you a home where you are safe, where you will never be abused, where you never need worry about how to pay the butcher’s bill.”
She pressed her lips together and stared at him so intently that he could see into her heart. “A husband and children,” he whispered. “Family in every sense of the word.” He waited a beat. “Respectability.”
“Family.” She said the word as though it was her dearest wish.
“It is all possible, Lavinia.” He felt a surge of guilt for using her longing for family this way. For all of a moment he felt more selfish than Desmond Stewart on a bad day. “You do understand that there will be responsibilities as well as comforts? Your husband will be gone for months on end.”
“You would leave?” She asked the question as though he had roused her from a dream.
“Yes, I am a post captain and hope to live to be an admiral. I will take whatever command the Admiralty offers.” He could not tell if this was welcome news or not. “In fact, you may well be a wealthy widow before your first anniversary.”
“Stop.” She spoke with asperity, raising her hand as if she could physically restrain him. “You will not make light of that. Not ever.”
“Not if it troubles you,” he agreed, “but even if I live to be one hundred there will be times when you will have to manage without me.”
“Running a house? Caring for children? I have done that for more than a year with only the meanest of support.” She relaxed and her eyes lost some of their severity. “But what if we do not find each other appealing?”
“Oh, we hardly need worry about that.” He tried to keep his elation from showing. “Attraction can be so easily tested.” She did not ask, but her look was question enough.
“A kiss, Lavinia. One kiss is all we need.”
He was close to her, very close. He gathered her into his arms, drew her not-yet-yielding body to him and pressed his lips to hers. He could feel her shiver of response. Her arousal echoed through him and he lowered her to the soft cushion of the window seat, his body as much a caress as his lips.
He used his mouth to entice her and his hands to woo her. Within seconds, any plan he might have had to beguile her with the promise of pleasure was forgotten as he was seduced by the softness of her breasts, the generosity of her response, the warmth of her.
He touched the edge of her lips with his tongue and her small gasp gave him the entry he wanted. Teasing her tongue with his, he felt her whole body melt into his. When she sighed in surrender, he raised his head to look into her eyes.
His longing was made bearable by the promise of triumph, but the languid yearning in her eyes faded as she stared at him. She moved her hands from around his neck to the front of his shirt. She lay very still beneath him. “You must promise that you will never use a whip on me.”
“Use a whip on you? No, never.” He sat up and she did too, edging away from him until she was crowded into the corner of the window seat looking more trapped than entranced.
“Where did you hear of that, Lavinia? Is it something Desmond told you?” He took her hand, but moved back to give her more space.
“No. Why would Desmond tell me?” Her hand was restless in his and he let it go. “I have heard stories of it from Dolley. You used it on Angus that first day we met.”
“Oh, that sort of whip.” He adjusted his own understanding to match hers. “I already promised never to abuse you, Lavinia. My word is my best and only pledge. You will be my wife and always deserving of my respect.”
“But can you control yourself?” She seemed uncertain. “It has been the way punishment is given for almost your whole life.”
He laughed, short and hard. “By the stars, Lavinia, control is one thing I excel at. I have spent a lifetime learning to control myself in every way you can imagine and some you cannot.”
She lowered her head. “Yes, I suppose that must be true.”
“Besides, a gentleman would never punish his wife.”
“Even if she is a shrew?”
He kept his silence until she looked at him.
“Not even if she is a shrew.” He raised her hand and, before he kissed it, he promised. “I will never force you. I promise I will never use a whip on you.” He waited until she nodded and added. “Unless you ask me too.”
“Unless I ask you? To whip me?”
Her dismay made him wonder why he was teasing her like this.
“Some find it a way to increase pleasure.”
“Pleasure?” Her blush told him the minute that she took his meaning. “Do you...?”
He shook his head and leaned closer and kissed her again. This time she was at least as willing as she was curious.
He touched the corner of her mouth, moved to the sweet spot below her ear and then found her lips with his. The tantalizing touches drew a deeper, more fervent response than he had expected. She was not so passive and he smiled against her mouth when she ran her hands down his back and then under the wool of his jacket.
He let her taste and explore until she stopped with a sudden movement that brought him back to time and place in a maddening instant.
“How can anyone need more than kisses?” she asked, her breathing a little ragged, her mouth as red as any rouge could make it.
“Oh, I promise you, Lavinia, in time you will beg for more.” She straightened and stood up, looking down at him. “But never a whip.” She pressed her lips together.
“Never, I promise you.”
“Captain?” She already had his undivided attention, but she waited a moment before she went on. “What will you beg for?”
She blushed a little once the question was out, but she waited for his answer. This was not some coquettish tease, but a serious question.
“I am begging now, Lavinia.” He knew he did not sound at all lover-like. He rubbed his forehead, annoyed and not nearly as certain as he had been before their kisses. “And, my dear, I have never begged for anything in my life.”
“Then perhaps I will marry you.” She turned and hurried across the room, as if he would run after her. “I will consider it.” She was out the door on the last word.
He let her go, suddenly not as determined to draw an answer from her at this moment. The passion in their kisses might have made her consider his suit, but it had pushed him in the opposite direction. Was marriage the wisest course of action?
He had a house and a boy, the beginning of a family that had come to him in an unorthodox way. He needed a wife to share his bed, keep his house, and make his life more simple.
He stood up, went to his desk, and sat down.
The last thing he needed was a wife who would complicate it and, worse yet, a woman whose welcoming arms would make it difficult to leave for months at a time.
He put his elbows on the desk and rested his forehead on his folded hands, considering the problem.
No, he decided, straightening again. Once they were married, once they were together every day and in every way the frustration would be over—familiarity would make parting easier—because this was not about love. It was an offer designed to give two people what they wanted. Family for her and for him. Though they both would define that need differently, it was what they both wanted.
It was only that their last kiss had ended too soon, leaving him frustrated. It was some consolation that she was as enthralled as he was. That could make for some long, delightful hours of lovemaking.
If she said yes. When she said yes.
He leaned back and opened his desk drawer and stared at the second of the two combs he had slipped in his pocket that evening when he helped untangle her hair.