Lady Rosabella's Ruse - By Ann Lethbridge Page 0,83

self.’

Tears clung to her eyelashes; her almond-shaped eyes were huge and accusing as she stared at him. ‘You don’t believe in love at all?’

God, what a little innocent she was.

‘Don’t smile at me like that,’ she said fiercely. ‘I hate it.’

Startled, he stared down at her. ‘Smile like what?’

‘Cynical. Mocking. As if I am stupid and only you know the truth.’

Anger sparked hot in his blood. He forced calmness into his voice. ‘When you spout about love and promises, I know I am the only one in this room who understands the way of the world.’

‘So you are saying I am stupid to believe my father loved my mother or us?’

‘I am saying you are putting your hopes in the wrong man.’ Damnation, was he jealous of her dead father? ‘For whatever reason, he didn’t leave you anything in his will. I am sorry he didn’t. Clearly it is important to you. But people do what suits them. There is nothing you can do about it.’

She sat up and moved away from him, pinning the sheet to her chest with her folded arms. There was something in her eyes he didn’t understand. Disappointment. Hurt.

He wanted to hit something. He pulled himself up against the pillows, put his hand on her cheek, turning her face towards him. ‘So he forgot to leave a will. What difference does it make? I will make sure you and your sisters have everything you need.’

‘I made sure we have everything we need.’ She jerked her face away. ‘It is part of my bargain with you. After all, we will not marry for love.’

Inwardly he flinched at the rejection in her voice. It laid bare an emotion he did not want to feel. He replied with cold logic. ‘Things will go on a lot better because we both have realistic expectations.’

A flash of a question passed across her face.

‘What is it?’

‘Why do you?’ She bit at the inside of her lip. He wanted to nibble and suck at the outside. He could see from her expression that would not be appreciated. Not right now.

‘Why do I what?’

‘At the end. You do not stay with me. You pleasure yourself, I think. You did not do it the first time, but since then…’

He huffed out a breath. He had not expected to have this conversation so soon. ‘It’s a precaution. Nothing to worry about.’

‘A precaution against what?’ If anything, she looked more concerned.

‘You might already be carrying my child.’

‘Oh, I see.’

He breathed a sigh of relief. He’d sidestepped that midden.

‘And if I’m not?’ She frowned. ‘You do want children, don’t you?’

‘I haven’t given the matter thought.’ Not about having one.

She frowned. ‘You need an heir, surely.’

‘It isn’t of any great concern at the moment. And besides, aren’t we having a good time? Wouldn’t a child spoil our games?’ He waggled his brows suggestively.

She stared at him. ‘You prefer to wait?’

‘Yes, I prefer to wait.’ He smiled and kissed her lips. ‘You taste of strawberries.’

‘So do you,’ she whispered, desire softening her eyes.

He kissed her again until she moaned with pleasure and forgot her questions.

Since Rosa could not go riding with Garth until after they were married, she dressed leisurely in one of her new gowns. She wanted to look her best when he returned. In a few days she would be a married woman. It hardly seemed possible.

She had barely sat down in the drawing room when the butler popped his head through the door.

‘I’m to ask where you wish to put the trunk and the desk, my lady,’ the butler said. ‘The carter is below. His lordship suggested the trunk should go in the attic and the desk in here.’

Of course he thought her mother’s chest should be relegated to the attic. In life, her father had hidden her mother away in Sussex.

Oh, now she was allowing her disappointment in her father to flow over into thoughts about Garth. Unfair. Garth had made a suggestion, that was all. ‘The desk will do very well in here.’ She glanced around and pointed to a low cabinet containing assorted pieces of porcelain. ‘It can go there.’ The light would be good for writing. ‘Perhaps the cabinet can go in the downstairs drawing room. If not, it can go up in the attic. The chest goes in my dressing room.’

At least it could remain there until she had time to go through it properly. Some of the costumes might need wrapping in paper. If she had a child, a girl,