“No, Julian, I have not.” Her fascinating mouth twitched. “You accepted my proposal, so I shall hold you to it—till death do us part.”
“Very well, then,” he declared, matching her playful solemnity. “You have just sealed your fate.” He executed an exaggerated bow complete with a Continental flourish. “Your canary carriage awaits.”
“Lady Cheswick’s carriage?” Henrietta asked in surprise. “What of your phaeton?”
“I sold it two days ago,” he replied. “I had set out to hire a vehicle for our journey when Lady Cheswick offered hers.”
“I thoroughly approve of your economy,” Henrietta said. “I am confident that together we will weather the storm.”
“I pray you don’t drown with me instead,” he remarked dryly.
His heart lightened, Julian handed Henrietta into the carriage as the footman secured the baggage and then assisted Millie onto the driver’s seat. A moment later, he joined her inside the cavernous conveyance. He gave a sound rap on the roof and the vehicle jolted into motion. They set off at a brisk pace, but even Achilles’ Balius and Xanthus wouldn’t have been fleet enough to satisfy his eagerness to reach their destination.
Julian stretched out his legs and settled back against the crimson velvet squabs while Henrietta sat across from him rigid and upright, nervously plucking at her gloves. “Is something on your mind, Henrietta?” he gently prodded.
She heaved a martyr’s a sigh. “It’s just that I despise long journeys. I hate the confinement. I think I would have preferred your phaeton.”
“Even though I didn’t let you drive it?” he teased. Her mouth gave another twitch that suddenly made him want to kiss it. He briefly fantasized about doing precisely that—pulling her onto his lap and kissing her senseless. It would surely be more diverting to her than staring out the window at London traffic.
She glanced up, caught him looking at her, and hastily averted her gaze again. It had always been so comfortable and easy between them. Why this sudden damnable awkwardness? It seemed strange to him to be conforming to the code of proper conduct knowing they would soon be joined as one—at least in the legal sense.
He wondered if, in time, she might be gently persuaded to accept conjugal relations with him. When he’d broken with Muriel, he’d vowed to be faithful to Henrietta. He prayed that weakness of the flesh, one of his chief failings, would never cause him to falter. He’d rather cut his own heart out than hurt Henrietta.
“Julian?” she almost whispered his name. “There’s something important we need to discuss. I’ve had time to consider the terms of our . . . arrangement.”
Bloody hell! The hollow sensation in his chest returned with a vengeance. “If you are having second thoughts, Henrietta,” he managed a bland reply, “I will not hold you to our bargain. I have no qualms about turning the coach around.”
“No! I’m not having second thoughts about wedding you, Julian.” She licked her lips and once more gazed down at her hands. “I speak of the terms we agreed upon in regard to consummation. I think I may have spoken rashly.”
“Go on,” he encouraged, his pulse accelerating.
“It’s just . . . we really didn’t discuss children. I think now that I would very much like to have a child.” She glanced up, her expression uncertain. “That is, if you do not object.”
“Object? Why the devil would you think I’d object?” Coming from a large family, he’d assumed that she would desire to have children but had feared she didn’t wish to bear his. “I lost my entire family, Hen. I’d give you a dozen brats if it would please you.”
“You would?” she replied with a look of surprise.
“Yes,” he replied, his gaze holding hers. So she was willing after all? Thank God he no longer had to face the prospect of a celibate marriage. Yet his joy was tempered by the knowledge that she desired his seed rather than his passion. “You do understand exactly what is required to conceive them?” he asked, watching her intently.
Her gaze flitted to him and then darted to the window. “Of course I do.”
“Procreation does not always occur quickly, Henrietta. It can require substantial effort.”
“I’m aware of that as well,” she said.
“Then you are willing for us to share a bed?”
“Yes, Julian. I am,” she whispered, a flicker of wistfulness in her eyes that incited a sudden ache in his chest. “But only if I am the only one you share it with.”
Her words were a knife that twisted deep in his gut. Did she really think so little of him? “Do you think I intend to be unfaithful to you?”
“I don’t know what to think,” she said. “We never discussed it.”
He shut his eyes on a stream of mumbled curses.
“That’s why I had to speak up,” she continued, “and why I had to go . . .” She bit her lip with a guilty look.
What the devil had she done? “Go where, Henrietta?” he prompted her softly.
“You won’t like it if I tell you.”
“I already don’t like it,” he growled. “What are you keeping from me?”