“You are immensely talented.”
She gasped in surprise and spun on the stool to look at him. A blush heated her cheeks. She was not sure how to act after their night of excess. “Thank you. I love drawing and painting.”
“A lady of many talents.” His lips fleetingly brushed against hers, and pleasure unfurled inside of her. He cupped her cheeks, and his thumb caressed a light bruise at the corner of her lips.
“I will crush him,” he avowed. “He will not escape unscathed after such contemptible behavior.”
Her heart beat faster as he gently kissed the bruise. “Forget him. I don’t want him to spoil the day for us.”
“You’re right. He’s forgotten.”
She smiled up at him. “Your estate is beautiful.”
“Thank you. Come. I have not yet eaten.”
They returned to the breakfast room, and he strode to the sideboard, while she accepted another cup of coffee. He filled his plate and she tried not to gape at the quantity when he seated himself across from her and picked up his fork.
“My mother and sister have arrived,” he said. “My mother penned a letter to your father, informing your family of your visit, and the rain that forced your overnight stay. No one knows she and my sister only arrived this morning, and it must be kept that way. Many will still speculate, and rumors will abound, since I resided under the same roof. I will announce our engagement, and then we will wait an appropriate time and wed.”
Phillipa tilted her head up a notch, filling with rebellion. After telling him of her inheritance last night, she’d been hoping he would dispense with that line of thinking. “If your mother stands behind our tale, such a noble sacrifice on your part is unnecessary.”
“It is no sacrifice,” he said evenly. “I am happy for us to wed.”
She rose from the chair and started to pace. “But I am not.”
“Is marriage to me so undesirable?” he asked with a shade of irritation. Or perhaps hurt.
“It is not you, Anthony,” she said softly. “It just that…I do not wish to remain in London. I hate the whirl, the restrictions, and the quick condemnation. I am continuously told how a proper young lady must behave. Be biddable, do not prattle, and heaven forbid I display some modicum of intelligence. If our relationship becomes known, I will be ostracized. Better to leave now. I do not need the approval of a society I loathe, and have no intention of spending my life bowing and scraping to it.”
She stopped pacing, and sank back into her chair, trying to hold his gaze. His mien was carefully neutral, but she could see the coldness encasing his eyes.
“You know how I feel about marriage,” she pleaded. “I hate the condemnation I see blazing from you. Is it not enough that we are lovers?”
He rose and strode around to stand over her. “Is that all you desire of me? For me to be between your legs pleasuring you?” His face was bland, but she thought he sounded a little hurt.
She winced at his bluntness. “No. I enjoy your company. I love being with you—conversing with you, dancing with you. You are the most honorable man I have ever met, but I have no desire for marriage, Anthony. I would like for us to remain lovers and friends.”
His chuckle held no mirth as he folded his arms and walked over to lean against the mantel. “You do not understand the nature of the society you live in, Phillipa. This is about more than us being lovers. Orwell will undoubtedly drop hints about you, providing grist for the vicious rumor mill. He is a coward and will never act in an honorable manner. You can only benefit from our marriage.”
She clamped her jaw. Why did everyone insist they knew better than she what would benefit her? Still, the last thing she wanted was to fight with Anthony. Not after all the wondrous things they had shared together. She slowly took a few sips of coffee, composing her thoughts, trying to still the trembling of her heart.
“What benefit will being married provide to me? Pleasure? I can receive pleasure without tying myself to the whims of a man. A man who can dictate how I dress, what I do, a man who can beat me any time he so wishes. I want to travel. Africa, Egypt, Shanghai, the Caribbean. You propose to be my husband, Anthony. Will you be content with a wife who is not here, attending to you and your home? Will you be content with a wife who yearns for more than a conventional life, instead of one who gives you babies and hosts your dinner parties? A wife who will attend women’s rights conventions?” She hiked a brow. “I don’t think that is what you want in a wife.”
His face shuttered, and her heart squeezed. For some reason she desperately wanted him to say yes, he did. He wanted her with all her eccentric ways. Because of all her eccentric ways.