“Indeed,” she said tightly, striking out, wanting to harm him like his words hurt her. “I want to marry. That had been my goal. Only I did not want to marry you.”
“Don’t you? Weren’t you just panting in my ear and rubbing my cock? I seem to recollect you begging for it.”
He wanted to shock her with his harsh language. She lifted her chin and clung to her composure. “That was something else. Something . . .” her words drifted. She wasn’t able to put a name to it. Swallowing against the lump forming in her throat, she lifted her chin and tried again. “It wasn’t me wanting to marry you.”
“Indeed. Sex and marriage are not mutually inclusive. But have no fear, there will be at least one benefit to this . . .”
“Mistake,” she supplied smoothly into his pause, arching an eyebrow. “Is that the word you’re searching for?” She walked backward several paces. “You mean ‘mistake.’ Us. Getting married. It would be a mistake.”
He shrugged. “So it’s not what I would have planned . . .” His voice faded and his eyes clouded. It wasn’t even as though he was looking at her anymore, but something else. Somewhere else. “We shall make the best of it. And I shall at least be the mistake you can readily avail yourself of any time you choose.”
Of all the arrogant . . .
She shook her head. “You don’t want a marriage. You don’t want a wife.”
He stared at her, and his silence was all the confirmation she needed, and yet still a bitter thing to swallow.
“Nothing need change. If we must marry, don’t let a wife alter your life.”
He laughed then. “You jest.”
“Not at all.” She nodded. “Lead your life as you always do.”
His eye narrowed. “You think such a thing possible?”
“You shall have your freedom. I shall have mine. It seems idyllic enough to me.”
“Yes. It seems so.” He considered for a weighty moment. “Why not?”
She nodded again as if a simple matter of business had been resolved and not the whole course of her life. “I should leave you now. You have a special license to look into procuring.”
Without waiting for his reply, she spun and departed the room.
Chapter 18
“You looked beautiful today.”
Aurelia looked up and met her mother’s gaze in her vanity mirror, offering her a shaky smile in response to the compliment. Cecily unpinned the last curl and set to brushing the mass of crackling dark hair.
“You’re certain you were not disappointed, Mama? I know you dreamed of a large wedding.”
Her mother smiled whimsically. “I did, but my greatest dream has been for both my children to be happy. Will found that happiness with Violet.” She stopped behind her and set her hands to Aurelia’s shoulders. “And now you’ve found it with dear Maxim. Nothing brings me greater joy. Not even a grand St. James wedding could give me such bliss.”
Aurelia returned her mother’s smile, wincing inwardly at how her own lips wobbled. Fortunately, Mama did not appear to notice. Instead, she had turned to survey the rather somber and colorless bedchamber. The room that was to be permanently hers as of this very day.
“It’s a lovely room,” Mama lied. Her mother’s tastes ran to colors and frills. There was none of that in this chamber. None of that in this house, for that matter. She gestured to the midnight dark drapes in what was to be her new bedchamber. “Perhaps start with those. A lighter colored counterpane next. More pillows perhaps. I’m certain Aunt Daphne can knit you some. Once you finish in here, you can add more sconces in the halls. A bigger chandelier in the foyer, certainly. It’s much too dreary when you first enter the house.” She clapped her hands merrily and fairly bounced on her feet. She looked years younger in that moment. “But then, there is no bottom to Max’s pockets. You should not limit yourselves to drapes, although it is a fine starting place.”