He had to admit there had been good women he’d taken to his bed. Women he hurt. Women who offered him their hearts, and he had refused them all like so many unworthy objects.
Will had probably begun counting the days until Aurelia began increasing with child.
That thought chilled him. The idea of being a father was a bloody terrifying thing. Of course, the making of that child had been a fantasy for him for weeks now. Perhaps even longer. He scrubbed a hand over the back of his tightening neck.
In the far back of his mind he had always gravitated toward Aurelia. He told himself it was because her caustic wit amused him, but what sane man subjected himself to such abuse if he wasn’t a little aroused by the woman serving such abuse?
A child would be the end of him. He would not be able to withhold himself. He would love a child. His child. His and Aurelia’s. He dragged his hand around to his face, covering his eyes for a moment. That couldn’t happen. Ever.
He realized that Will was still staring at him, waiting for him to say something to his comment about him and Aurelia making sense together.
“It’s kind of you to say.”
“There’s nothing kind about it.”
Max winced, imagining a scenario where he was in Will’s shoes. If he had caught someone trifling with his sister. Julia had only been seven years old when she left this world. Still an angel in his memories. She’d never had the opportunity to grow up, but he could not imagine reacting with similar tolerance to any man, friend or not, who dallied with her. Just further evidence that Will was a far better man than him. “I don’t know if I could be so understanding.”
“Well. Initially, I was angry.” Will laughed darkly. “Yes. I’ll not lie on that score. But I thought about it long and well. And Violet . . . well, my wife helped shed light on matters, too. What we all witnessed these many years and assumed was animosity—” He gestured to himself and Dec, who sat near the fire, as though speaking for the both of them. “Well, Violet viewed it differently. Perhaps with more objectivity since she only recently entered into the family.”
“Oh? And how did she view me and Aurelia?” Max lifted his glass to his lips for a drink.
“All the bickering and squabbling . . . it was . . . you both were . . . well, in a manner . . . flirting and seducing each other, as much as it pains me to say it.” He winced.
Max coughed as the fiery burn of brandy went down the wrong pipe. Will moved to clap him on the back. He focused tearing eyes on his friend. “That’s certainly an interesting theory.”
“What I’m saying is that you have my blessing, Max. You and Aurelia . . . have my blessing.”
Will’s blessing. He didn’t deserve it. If he could promise that he was going to make Aurelia happy . . . then, yes. He would perhaps not feel the utter cad sitting before Will. He’d just wed his sister with no intention of making her a wife in truth. He had no intention of being a real husband to her. He would not make Aurelia happy. He knew that. Whatever happiness she found would be at her own instigation. That’s what leading separate lives would entail. He leading his life. She leading hers. Separately.
He inhaled a breath that felt too heavy, too blistering for his lungs to hold. It would be a sham of a marriage. Aurelia had laid the groundwork. They would be married, but in name only.
A bitter laugh threatened to overtake him. Had he actually agreed to such a thing? Was he deluding himself? He could scarcely keep his hands off her when they weren’t married. And now they were. He didn’t have to hold his desires back any longer. He could march upstairs and take his husbandly rights.
Only it wasn’t that simple. Even if they were going to try to make a genuine marriage out of this union and she was agreeable to sharing his bed, it wasn’t in him to make any one woman happy.