“And that’s what you want for me?” The thought palled.
“No. No, darling. Of course not. But don’t you see… It is because of that marriage that I live the way I do now.” She took Tildy’s hands in hers. “I know it seems unfair, and it is, but the rules for women in our world are inviolate. And you have violated them. The consequences are horrific.”
There had not been any consequences yet, other than a deep regret that she’d left Dev’s bed without another go. “What do you mean?”
“Where will you live? Who will take care of you?”
“I thought I could live here.”
Her aunt stared at her for a long long while, which made her a trifle twitchy. She finally broke and said, “Of course you can live here, but think what you will be missing.”
“I will be missing a marriage to a man I do not love.”
“Bah! Love. That is nonsense. But I am not talking about that. I am talking about the companionship of a man. Security. And mostly…children.”
Tildy blinked. Children? She’d never even thought about children.
“I know it seems unimportant now, but trust me, a woman reaches an age where she feels that lack. It’s an emptiness inside her. A dark hole that seems to swallow up her soul…”
“If you want children, why don’t you marry again?”
Elizabeth turned away. “My life is complicated. But my life is hardly the point. We need to figure out how to fix yours.”
“Fix mine?”
“You need a husband. One you choose. Doesn’t that sound lovely?”
“But what about my virginity?” She’d gone to great lengths to lose it. Didn’t searching for a husband seem counterproductive after all that?
“No worries. Nothing a touch of pig’s blood on the sheets cannot remedy.”
Really? As easy as that?
“But I don’t want to marry.”
“Of course you do. You just don’t want to marry Charles’ choice. Am I right?”
She stared at her aunt. She had gotten the right of it, or part of it. She did want to marry at some point. Did want children. But now the only man she could envision as her husband was the man she’d given herself to…and marriage was the last thing on his mind.
“So take my advice. Attend the Season. Go to balls and masques and infernal musicales. Meet the gentlemen of the Ton. Vet the candidates. Choose one and marry him at once.”
“But I don’t want any of them.”
“How can you know? Until you meet them?”
Because they wouldn’t be Dev.
He was a soldier.
Soldiers did not attend society events.
“Promise me you will at least try.” And, when it looked as though Tildy would refuse, she added, “I insist.”
And so it was settled.
Tildy would attend the Season and look for a husband.
What a dismal thought.
CHAPTER EIGHT
SHE WAS GONE.
Something cold walked along his spine. He sat up in the bed and felt around the covers, which was ridiculous, because he could tell the instant he awoke…she was gone. The emptiness of the room was stultifying.
Still, he got out of the bed and searched the suite, hopeful he was wrong.
But when he found nothing, not even her clothes, he knew the truth of it.
He should not have fallen asleep. It had been foolish of him.
She was gone.
It wasn’t as though he didn’t know where to find her. She’d mentioned an aunt and, no doubt, Paddington would know where she lived. The trouble was, he could never ask Paddington. The man was his enemy, for God’s sake. Aside from which, Paddington would want to know why he wanted to know and then, of course, he’d kill Dev on the spot.
He’d debauched his baby sister, after all.
Hell. He’d debauched her utterly.
He sat on the bed and dropped his head into his hands.
What had he been thinking? The thrill of revenge did nothing to counterbalance the seething regret.
Oh, not that he’d had her. Or even that he’d ruined her so exquisitely.
But that she was gone.
He’d lost her.
His door burst open and his head snapped up. Hope, tantalizing and fleeting, flickered like a weak flame in his chest. And died.
“Good morning!” Wickham crowed as he sauntered in, without so much as a knock. Granted, it was his house, but really. Dev was bare-assed naked.
But he did come bearing gifts. A tray of breakfast foods and—thank God—coffee. He set it down on the table and shot Dev a glance. “You look chipper,” he said, grinning through the lie.
“I didn’t sleep well.”
“Nothing wrong with the bed, I trust.” Wickham tossed himself into a chair and snagged a rasher of bacon, which he proceeded to inhale.
“The bed is fine.” Dev pulled on his breeches. “I’m surprised to see you here,” he said as he joined Wickham by the hearth and poured a cup of steaming black brew. “I thought you were staying in the country for a while.”
“I was, but a problem arose that I need to deal with.”
“Nothing cataclysmic, I trust.”