Then like an echo she heard him saying to the Duke of Sedgemoor, “It can’t be helped.”
Roberta’s safety was too important to risk on a man Sidonie had known a mere week. Shocking enough that Sidonie would commit herself without hesitation, but she couldn’t forget her responsibility to her sister.
She stared directly at this man who had given her such transcendent joy and took the coward’s way out. “Jonas, I need to think.”
When he faced her, he didn’t look any happier. He was wise enough to guess she’d more than half-decided against marrying him. “I have a feeling if you go away, I’ll never see you again.”
“Give me a month. Everything has happened so fast.”
“A week.”
Surprisingly, given how difficult the discussion, she laughed. “You’re so demanding. A woman would need to be sure of herself to take you on.”
His silvery eyes glittered. “You’re up to my weight, carissima.”
The tragedy was she believed she was, too. She bent her head. Her voice was a mere thread of sound. “A week.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Jonas eyed Sidonie where she sat beside him in the swaying carriage. Unwillingly he’d conceded the wisdom of abandoning her new clothes, but he couldn’t like seeing the shabby white muslin. He should have told Mrs. Bevan to burn the rag instead of merely laundering it. When Sidonie returned to him, as surely she must, he’d drape her in silks and diamonds.
And, by God, he’d burn that eyesore of a cloak.
Her posture was straight and self-contained, gloved hands linked in her lap and attention fixed on the passing countryside. For most of the journey, she’d dozed fitfully with her head on his shoulder. He’d stared into her lovely face and noted marks of weariness and care—and the indefinable air of a woman who had recently enjoyed sensual fulfillment.
She’d been unusually quiet all the way from Devon. In fact, she’d been unusually quiet since his impulsive proposal, apart from the inevitable argument after he insisted on accompanying her home. Much as he loathed referring to his swine of a cousin’s house as Sidonie’s home.
It was now late afternoon and they approached Ferney, the mansion he’d bought to put his cousin’s nose out of joint. How astonishing the difference a week made. Or a week such as the one he’d spent with Sidonie. He’d gloated, raising that gaudy monument to his worldly success at William’s front gates. Jonas had intended it as a permanent reminder that while he might be a bastard, he was a damned rich bastard.
Now his quest for revenge seemed infantile.
Jonas’s time with Sidonie sucked the infection from old wounds. Perhaps it was the beginning of wisdom that he at last relinquished his cousin’s chastisement to heaven. He cringed to recall how he’d used Sidonie’s sister in his machinations. Roberta had invited trouble, but he’d been a blackguard taking advantage. Sidonie had been too quick to forgive him for that. His intentions had been rotten to
the extreme.
More important than revenge was the need to convince Sidonie to marry him. His proposal had been impulsive but the instant he spoke, he recognized their affair could have no other outcome. She was a woman a man wanted for life. Sidonie Forsythe was a creature of fire and light. He craved that heat like he craved air. When she was with him, he rejoined the great tide of humanity. He felt like a man a woman might even come to… love.
He contemplated Sidonie’s slender form in the shadowy interior. Had he planted a child in her womb? He was a cad to trap her so dishonorably, but the prospect of Sidonie growing round and lazy was breathtakingly appealing.
She turned her head to study him. He hoped to hell she didn’t guess his thoughts. “You can’t come to Barstowe Hall. If William finds out I’ve been with you, there will be the devil to pay.”
“Hobbs has orders to head for Ferney, then I’ll walk you across the park. I’ll keep your reputation safe, bella.” He wanted to keep more than her reputation safe. He wanted her to confide her whole life to him.
Slowly, Jonas, slowly. Patience reaps its own rewards.
“You needn’t come. I doubt brigands will leap on me in deepest Wiltshire.”
“You’d deprive me of the last of your company, dolcissima?”
“You think this is easy?” she asked dully. “To leave you after what we’ve shared?”
He seized her hand. Immediately the storm in his blood quieted. Her merest touch set the world spinning in the right direction. He waited for her to withdraw. Apart from those sweet moments curled against him in sleep, she’d hardly touched him all this long day. His proposal had destroyed their physical ease with each other.
Until now.
She gripped his hand hard and he felt her desperation, even through two layers of leather. Perhaps the week apart would work to his advantage. She’d have time to realize she missed a man in her bed. Except, curse him for a sentimental fool, he wanted more from her than physical desire. He wanted the generous heart that led her to offer herself to a monster’s embrace in her sister’s place. He sounded petty and jealous and needy, but he wanted her to love him the way she loved Roberta. With that same unconditional devotion, that same clear-eyed appreciation. Sod it, selfish it might be, but he wanted her to love him more than she loved Roberta.
“You needn’t go, tesoro,” he said gently. “I can turn the carriage around and we’ll be back in Devon tomorrow. Or we’ll stay at Ferney. I won’t cavil at offering you a bedroom. Preferably mine.”