“I have the choice of who I will marry.”
“And you’ll choose one of these?” Alex waved the list at her angrily. “One of these fops or old men? For God’s sake, Sophie, Mr. Colton is seventy years old if he’s a day!”
“He’s three-and-sixty, and he has—” she cut off abruptly.
“Has what?”
She squirmed uncomfortably in her seat.
“And he has what?” Alex repeated.
“A very nice disposition,” she offered lamely.
Alex didn’t even bother acknowledging that pathetic attempt at evasion. “What does he have, Sophie? What does he possess that makes him such a fine catch?”
She really didn’t want to embark on a conversation with Alex regarding her desire not to beget an heir. She couldn’t envision it leading into anything that wasn’t either vaguely insulting or blatantly embarrassing.
“One more time, Sophie—”
God, but he was stubborn.
“An heir,” she snapped. “He possesses an heir. Almost all of them do. Are you quite satisfied?”
Alex didn’t answer her at first. He just looked over the list again to confirm her statement, then said, “I see,” in such a way that Sophie knew she would have to explain.
She took a deep, and she hoped calming, breath. “I wish to marry a gentleman who is not concerned with the production of an heir. I plan to return to my father.”
She watched Alex’s face for a reaction, but aside from the muscle twitching in his cheek, which had been going on all night, his expression was unreadable.
“Sophie.” Alex’s voice was soft and calm, meant to lull. Naturally, it immediately put her on edge. “Do you really believe any of these men will be willing to abandon a pretty young wife to the other side of the world?”
“Yes,” she replied firmly. “It is to be part of the marriage contract, or at least agreement. It will be a marriage in name only.”
Alex set the list down and took a few steps toward her. “And is that what you really want? A marriage in name only?”
“Yes.” Her voice was a little less firm this time around so she added, “I believe I’ve made as much clear.”
Alex shook his head slowly. “No. What you made clear is what you need. I’m asking you what you want.” He stopped in front of her. “What do you want, Sophie?”
He took one of her hands in his and gently pulled her to her feet. “Do you want to live the rest of your life alone?”
She wanted to tell him she wouldn’t be alone. She’d have her father, Mrs. Summers, and Mr. Wang. She’d have her friends. But the words never reached her lips, partially because he was standing so close she could feel the heat of him, and partially because she knew that wasn’t what he meant by alone.
“Don’t you want a family of your own, Sophie? Don’t you want children?”
She nodded. She couldn’t help herself. She did want those things. She wanted them so much she could smell them, feel them, taste them in her mouth.
Alex gave her a small, sad smile and brought his other hand up to cup her neck and tilt her head toward him.
“And what about passion, Sophie?” he whispered, leaning closer. “Don’t you want this?”
His lips met hers softly, gently, a question.
Sophie wanted to say yes. She wanted to marry Alex and spend the rest of her life kissing him. Just like this.
She wasn’t sure how long they stood there. As always, when Alex kissed her, she lost all awareness of her surroundings, and when he finally pulled away she might have said only a minute had passed or she might have guessed an hour.
“What is your answer, Sophie?”
It took a moment for her to remember what he was asking. He still had his arms about her, and she still felt curiously warm and heady.
Eventually, she gathered her scattered thoughts well enough to ask, “Why?”
She wasn’t certain why that question was so important to her at the moment, or even if she knew what response she wanted to hear. She only knew it seemed necessary to ask, and to know.
“Why should you marry me?” Alex asked.
She shook her head. “Why do you want to marry me now? You’ve never shown the least bit of interest—”
“I’ve shown an inordinate amount of interest in you.” He pulled back a little to look at her in bewilderment.
“Yes, as a possible mistress—”
“What?” He dropped his arms in shock. “Where in God’s name did you hear that?”
“I didn’t,” she said, growing a little confused herself. “I merely assumed—”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because you speak quite plainly to me, make advances of an intimate nature, and you were most emphatic about not sending flowers or writing poetry. I was under the impression that was how one wooed a mistress.”
Alex stared at her for a long time, his expression unreadable.
“Was I wrong?” Sophie asked to make him talk.