Simon's knuckles brushed against her cheek, sending tendrils of desire straight to her core. The sooner she left, the better. She couldn't trust herself alone with him at all. Who knew what she'd do next?
"I can't let you leave, Lily," his deep voice rumbled over her.
Lily closed her eyes, wishing herself away from him. Wishing this could be easier. "I won't be your mistress, Simon. I can't. It's time for me to leave."
"No," he said, his voice strained. "Not my mistress, Lily. You're going to marry me."
She must have misheard him. Simon Westfield couldn't possibly want to marry her. She would interfere with his lifestyle. Wasn't that what he'd said?
Slowly, Lily opened her eyes. His penetrating grey gaze bored into her. His brow was furrowed. A muscle twitched in his jaw. Whatever was going on, Simon was the furthest thing from happy. "Marry you?" she asked.
He nodded. Once.
A feeling of dread settled in her belly, and Lily shook her head. "Why would you ask me such a thing?"
"It's necessary."
"Necessary?"
Again, he nodded.
"Why?"
He quietly watched her, and, for the longest time, Lily thought he wouldn't speak at all. Did he really not want to lose her? Her heart expanded at the thought.
"We don't have a choice." Simon's voice interrupted her thoughts, dashing her hopes.
Unsure what to say to that, Lily blinked at him.
Simon shook his head. "If you don't marry me, Lily, you're as good as ruined."
"I am ruined," she reminded him with a whisper.
Simon closed the distance between them and tipped her chin back, forcing her to look at him. "Lily love, you are far from ruined. Last night I gave you pleasure; I didn't take your innocence."
She wasn't quite sure what the difference was. She felt the furthest thing from innocent.
"Will has a connection to the Archbishop. He'll leave for Lambeth Palace this morning to acquire a special license, and we'll be married in three days time."#p#分页标题#e#
Lily shook out of his hold. "Why don't we have a choice?"
Simon raked a hand through his black hair. "Damn it, Lily! I thought this would make you happy. You were prepared to settle for Emory Hawthorne or one of the other dolts from last night."
Not really. Not that she could tell him how much he'd hurt her with his offer. "That was different."
He glared at her. Lily had never expected to receive an offer of marriage from anyone. She didn't have lands, connections, or money to offer a prospective husband. If she had ever let the stray thought enter her mind, Simon's proposal was far from what dreams were made of. There were no declarations of love, no looks of adoration, nor promises for a happy future.
She was already a poor relation. The last thing she wanted was to be stuck in a loveless marriage. She'd seen that with Daniel and Emma, and had no desire to live in one herself. Not that there wasn't love on her side; there was. But Simon obviously didn't return the sentiment, and she didn't think she could face a lifetime with him, knowing he never really wanted her. That she was an obligation.
If her heart wasn't already broken, this would certainly have done the job.
"Look," Simon began gruffly, "I wish it could be different, Lily. Really, I do. You're better off without me, but there isn't a better solution."
She didn't believe that. "Why?" she asked skeptically.
"Because word has gotten out that you've been living here with me."
"But I only came to speak to you about Oliver, as you couldn't be bothered to return a letter."
"It's no matter. You're a young, unmarried woman staying under my roof without a proper chaperone."
"Young?" She snorted. "Heavens, Simon, I'm almost twenty-four. I'm Oliver's spinster aunt. I don't need a chaperone."
One black eyebrow arched. "You are hardly a spinster. Not one man last night thought so."
They hadn't wanted her either. They were after her funds, or Simon's funds, as the case may be. She didn't realize she was crying until Simon brushed a tear away with the pad of his thumb.
"Why would you consider marriage to that pack of fools, but not to me?" he asked softly.
Lily's eyes flashed up to him. He was the only man she'd ever wanted in any way, shape, or form. "Because you don't want me."
His arms snaked around her waist, and he pulled her length against his. She could feel his arousal through her skirts, and heat crept up her face.
"Certainly you can feel how much I want you."
"For a tumble, for an arrangement. You don't want to marry me, Simon."