Rumours in the Regency Ballroom: Scandalising the Ton / Gallant Officer, Forbidden Lady. Diane Gaston

marry me.”

      She still could not speak.

      He shook her. “For God’s sake, Lydia.You must marry me.”

      She gasped and admitted her greatest fear. “You will be able to take my child away from me.”

      He released her. “Yes, as your husband I will have that right. I do not expect you to believe me, a mere rake, if I tell you I would never be so cruel to you.”

      “I cannot believe you, Adrian.”

      He recoiled. “Then I will not waste time trying to convince you of my character. Make your decision.”

      She sank back into the rocking chair and tried to soothe herself, rocking back and forth. He stepped away from her and stood, arms folded over his chest, waiting.

      His words offered so much. Comfort, safety, respectability. For her and their child.

      Their child.

      Would the child have his smiling mouth? The cowlick in his hair? His amber-coloured eyes?

      She had no choice.

      She took a deep breath. “Very well, Adrian. I accept,” she whispered. “I will marry you.”

      It seemed a long time before he nodded. “I will go to Lambeth Palace today and procure the special licence. If I can snag a clergyman I will return here and we will be married right away.”

      As easy as all that, it would be done, and her life and the life of her precious child would be his to dictate. She felt as if she was giving up everything.

      He had not professed love, as Wexin had done. He’d not professed devotion. He’d promised to do his duty to their child. Theirs would be a marriage of convenience—of necessity, rather.

      She shivered.

      He stared at her, so distant, so filled with an anger she could not begrudge him. All the fault in this situation was hers and hers alone.

      “Have we come to an understanding, then, Lydia?” His voice actually shook.

      She was not the only one overcome with emotion.

      She extended her hand. “We have an agreement, sir.”

      He walked back to her, a masculine stride of grace and power. “An agreement, madam.”

      He grasped her hand. His hand was warm, his grasp strong, and, at his touch, her body again tingled with awareness of him. She wished she could be immune to this carnal yearning for him. It made matters worse.

      He released her. “I will call upon you later today. May I suggest that your staff be prepared to allow me entry at your garden gate?”

      To avoid the reporters who were certain to return. “I will have the gate attended after noon.”

      “After noon, then.” He bowed.

      He continued to gaze at her, but finally turned and walked towards the door.