if she did not quite know why, so she would be upset anyway, and I might just as well have told her to begin with.” She frowned. “That did not make any sense, did it?”
Tristan leaned farther back in his chair. She wondered if it would be possible to feel the beat of his heart beneath his heavily brocaded waistcoat. His glance drifted towards the ceiling. “Actually, I think I understand very well, although I still can’t imagine any secret you could have that would so worry your sister. A longed-for lost love, perhaps? Is that what you don’t want your mother to know? And won’t your sister be worried if you simply disappear?”
“My mother and my sister rarely communicate. Mother will not confess that she has lost me. I will have time to write my sister and say that I am off with friends. She will understand my wish to escape my mother.”
His gaze moved back down and pinned her. She knew he would not forget the rest of his questions.
It felt like he was pulling the secrets out of her soul. His eyes were quicksilver; they caught and held, offered no release. She’d been prepared to lie, to spin some tale of loss or hardship, but as he perused her, she found the truth fleeing its containment.
She held the words tight for a moment, refusing to legitimize the truth their utterance would force her to accept. Her lips parted and the words sprang free.
“I am also with child.”
The deep pupils in the midst of the silver tightened, then grew large. There was no other movement, no hint of the shock she must have given him. He kept his gaze on her, waiting to drive any further secret from her depths. When no additional words came, he dropped his glance to his fingers, the tapping increasing in tempo.
Her shoulders sagged the moment his eyes released her. A great emptiness spread through her, as the truth settled unpleasantly, like dry, fallen dust. She had said the words. She could no longer hide from the facts. If not for a hurried, brief confidence from her sister, months ago, she might never even have known before the whole world knew. It might have been too late, if it was not already too late.
His silence surprised her. She did not know what she had expected, but not this unceasing quiet. She stared at the pattern on the rug, wondering how many knots were in each inch. How many hands had tied those knots? How many years ago? Why was he so quiet? No, think of the rug. Would it be soft or scratchy to the touch? Were those flowers or leaves? Who would make the leaves red? Why didn’t he talk?
She lifted her gaze and found him staring at her, his lips pursed, his brows drawn together. She could almost see the thought behind his eyes.
Finally he spoke. “We can marry by special license. It should not be a difficulty. I will have to decide how to proceed in the meantime.”
His low-pitched words shocked Marguerite from her stupor, a great chasm opening in a wasteland.
She gasped, “You do know the child is not yours, do you not?”
Chapter Two
Tristan watched Marguerite’s brow pucker and relax. Her breath quickened and he found his gaze drawn to the rapid rise and fall of her small, high breasts. He felt his own pulse speed. She continued to stare at him. He could feel heat in her gaze, but also a question.
You do know the child is not yours, do you not?
With every second that passed the question echoed again between them, though not a sound was whispered.
Tristan focused on her slender fingers as they rubbed against a frayed spot on her skirt. Fingers that were the only part of her he’d ever given into the longing to touch. “Well, yes, I did realize that.”
She blushed at the irony that filled his tone. His ready wit had supplied the words while his still mind raced. He let his gaze rise to settle again on her refined features, those full lips. He considered her pedigree.
Was she the key that would unlock the door? Was there a drawing room anywhere that would be shut to her? “I do know something about how these things work, you know, and then there is the fact that we haven’t seen each other for over a year.” He focused again on her mouth. “And, I don’t believe we’d progressed as far as a single