There was clearly no path open to him other than marriage. He had compromised Verity through no fault of her own and there was only one outcome to that. Of course, she was temperamentally unsuited to be a duchess, but she was an intelligent woman who would soon come to terms with the situation if he was firm enough in his directions. And, given her breeding and upbringing, she would adapt and shed those bluestocking theories about independence. A lady obeyed her husband in all things and she knew that. There was only one problem—she did not appear to want to marry him, which was baffling.
Will nudged some more dry wood into the base of the fire and tried to read some answers in the flames. Verity did not find him repellent physically, not judging by the evidence of two kisses. She did not appear to have an attachment to any other man, she liked his brothers and sisters and there could not possibly be anyone of higher rank she could aspire to marry. So, what was there to object to in him? He examined the man inside the Duke, attempting complete honesty and objectivity. His reputation was spotless, his appearance was passable, his health was good. He had no eccentric habits and his wealth was considerable.
Was she simply being coy? But that seemed unlike anything he had observed in her behaviour. Or perhaps—
Will reached for the mug and looked up as he drained it. From the beech woods on the slopes down to the lake on the far side from the house there were smudges of smoke rising in the still air. For a second his brain could make no sense of it, then he recalled his Steward saying that the charcoal burners were due to start a new cycle of coppicing and burning that week. He counted—two, no, three columns of smoke now—and calculated the angle they would be seen from the house and gardens. His own fire would be in a direct line.
‘Hell and damnation.’
‘What is wrong?’ Verity emerged from the scrub behind him. ‘Oh. The charcoal burners? Oh, no.’ She sat down abruptly on the rock beside him as the realisation of what it meant hit her. ‘Now what are we going to do?’
‘Wait,’ Will said grimly. ‘Wait and hope my repellent siblings come to their senses and confess what they have done before nightfall.’
Nightfall and that tiny cottage with its one, narrow bed. Verity would be inside and he would be outside, of course. Not that that would make any difference to the situation they found themselves in, but things were bad enough without his willpower being put to the test by the proximity of a bed and an attractive young woman in it. It would stand the test, obviously—he was a gentleman—but he could do without the physical effects of ignoring the messages his body was sending him.
It was bad enough with her so close now, warm and relaxed, leaning on her hands braced behind her
and with her head thrown back. Will risked a sideways glance and turned back to stare at the fire. The column of her throat, exposed, white, taut as though inviting a kiss, a gentle bite, a lick. What would her skin taste like?
‘It is going to rain.’
The words were so at odds with his erotic musings that it took Will a second to take them in. He looked up at the sky, saw the heavy thunderheads building to the south, registered the way the air had become hotter, breathless with a quivering intensity. The birds had stopped singing and it felt as though the world was poised, waiting for the first clap of thunder.
‘In fact,’ Verity said prosaically, ‘I do believe we are going to have a storm.’
Will stood up. The day was getting better by the minute. Now he had a wet night to look forward to. ‘There is no point in persisting with this fire. I had better spend my time building a shelter for the night.’
‘We have a cottage.’ She stared at him as though he had said something incredibly foolish. ‘Not much of one, to be sure, but there is no sign that it has let in water in the past.’
‘Which means that you will be dry and warm. But, clearly, I cannot share it with you overnight.’
‘Why not?’
Has the woman no modesty?
‘It would be most improper.’ Will knew he sounded like his grandfather, but that was what he intended.
‘Could you please explain what we might do during the hours of darkness that would be more improper than what we might be doing now?’ Verity enquired.
Immodest and sarcastic.
And, unless a miracle occurred, he was going to have to marry this stubborn woman. ‘That is not the point. If we were rescued now there is some hope that the scandal might be contained and your father might accept that your reputation is untarnished. But even the most neglectful of fathers—and I refuse to believe a bishop could be such a man—would draw the line at a night spent together.’
Will got up and walked back towards the cottage, looking for some sheltered spot, some hollow tree or a patch of low-hanging foliage that might form the framework to make a rough shelter such as he had seen the Romany use.
‘That is complete hypocrisy.’ Verity spoke close behind him. ‘You are not going to attempt to ravish me, are you?’
‘Certainly not!’ Will stopped so suddenly that she walked into him and grabbed at his shoulders to keep her balance. The pressure of curvaceous femininity imprinted itself on his back for a moment that was both far too long and achingly brief. He turned, steadying her with one hand under her elbow. ‘Whatever can you mean, hypocrisy?’
‘There are three possible scenarios,’ Verity said. She held up one finger. ‘Firstly, neither of us has any wish to, shall we say, misbehave. Our word as a lady and gentleman of good reputation should be adequate for any reasonable person in that case.’ She held up another finger. ‘Secondly, one of us wishes to, but the other doesn’t. Again, as well-bred people with consciences, the wishes of the reluctant party will prevail. Or, thirdly, we both wish to...’ She waved both hands as words apparently failed her.
The first time that has happened, Will thought grimly.
‘Anyway, if we did, neither of us, surely, would intend merely a passing affaire, so we would have no reason to object to marriage as a consequence. The point I am attempting to make—’
‘Is that we are not going to indulge in any untoward behaviour and a reasonable person would accept our word for it,’ Will finished saying for her. One did not interrupt a lady but, as the alternative was to kiss her to stop her discussing all the things that were occupying his imagination, he was prepared to be blunt. ‘Unfortunately, the truth never outweighs the assumptions of society, even in the eyes of the most reasonable persons. You will be compromised, your reputation will never recover and your chances of a respectable marriage will be severely curtailed.’
He did not wait for an answer, but he got one nevertheless, once Verity had caught up with him outside the cottage.