A Lady of Persuasion (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy #3)

“What an ass I’ve been,” he said. “I’ve treated you so ill. Can you ever forgive me? I know I don’t deserve to be forgiven.”


“No, you were right,” she said, wiping at her eyes. She was only too glad to share the blame for their arguments. Perhaps now they could be friends. “I know I should be more feeling with my patients, with their families, but…” She made an impatient gesture with her hands, indicating her red, swollen eyes. “But it’s difficult. Just look at me.”

“I am looking at you.”

He thrust a finger under her chin and tilted her face to his. Oh, how unfair that he should be so composed and handsome when she was a teary disgrace.

“I am looking at you,” he repeated, “and I can scarcely understand—how can this tiny, delicate woman possess so much strength, so much intelligence and courage?” His hand lifted to her cheek, brushing away a tear. “All this, and such lovely eyes.”

No. Surely he wouldn’t be so cruel as to tease her again.

His hand caught her chin. “No, don’t dare look away now. Do you know how those eyes have haunted me?”

Hetta shook her head, suddenly afraid to blink.

The corner of his mouth curved. “At first they annoyed me, no end. They were always staring at me, asking me questions I didn’t want to answer. Then I found myself wanting to stare back, ask questions of my own, and that irritated me even more. Then Bel recovered, and suddenly you weren’t coming around anymore, and I found myself”—he sighed heavily—“missing them. Intensely. That made me angriest of all.”

“Because you felt disloyal to her.”

“God, no.” His arm tightened around her waist. “Because I felt alive. Suddenly, painfully alive, when I’d invested so much time and effort, making myself dead to the world. Because I began to yearn for things I swore I’d never seek again. You can’t know how I resented you for it.”

She choked on a laugh. “I think I have some idea.”

“I’m sure you do, to my shame.”

“I never thought you a curiosity,” she told him, needing him to understand. “I tried not to stare at you, really I did. But you’re so handsome and attractive and … and I just couldn’t help it.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Hm.”

Hetta held her breath, waiting. Then she said, “I hate it when you say that, with that smug, enigmatic expression! I don’t know what it means, and—”

“Shh.” His thumb covered her lips, then brushed over them in a tender caress. “It means I’m going to kiss you now. All right?”

“All right.”

And he did. He kissed her gently, sweetly—and then Hetta kissed him back, with every ounce of passion she possessed. She felt uncertain and vulnerable and suspected she was doing everything wrong—but since she’d reached the age of three-and-twenty before receiving her first kiss, and since her first kiss stood an excellent chance of also being her last, she wasn’t about to hold anything back.

When his hand fisted in the back of her gown and a little growl rumbled through his chest, she hoped it meant she’d done something right.

And then it was over, and he held her in his arms again.

“You’re trembling,” he said.

“Yes. I’m afraid.”

He squeezed her tight. “Don’t be. I mean to marry you, Hetta.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“Why? Don’t tell me you’re worried what people will say. I know it wouldn’t be easy, but we’re both of us accustomed to—”

“No. No, of course it’s not that.” Pulling away, she met his questioning gaze. “You’re very kind, Joss, but you don’t have to offer. I’m not expecting—”

“I’m not kind in the least. I know I don’t have to. I want to.”

“But…” Tears pricked at her eyes again. “But you can’t possibly want to marry me. I’ve no money, for one thing. I’m prickly and preoccupied, for another. I won’t give up medicine. I’d make a terrible wife. And you have a child …” She shook her head. “I’ve no idea what to do with a child, once the cord is cut. I’d make a horrid mother.”

He laughed.

“Why is it you only laugh when you’re laughing at me?”

“I don’t know,” he said, “but you’d better marry me, Hetta. Or I may never laugh again.” He planted a quick kiss on her lips. “First, I couldn’t give two straws whether you have a dowry. I’d never ask you to give up medicine, or anything that meant so much to you. And I’m certain you would make a terrible housekeeper, and a perfectly horrid nursemaid. But I don’t need either of those. My son needs a mother who believes he can do anything, who won’t accept the restrictions society will place on him. And as for me … I hardly know how to put words to what I need, but I know I’m holding it here in my arms. I need not just a wife, but a partner. A strong, intelligent woman who expects no less of me than I expect of myself. I need to laugh, and often. And you need all those things, too.”