The Lady Who Drew Me In. Thomasine Rappold
He’d resorted to humor to mask his fear, but he was clearly terrified.
“Will you?”
All amusement drained from his face. “Yes.” His blue eyes pierced her like daggers. “I will do the honorable thing. But let me make something straight.”
She swallowed at his somber tone as he stepped closer. She’d never seen him wear a more dire expression.
“There’s much you don’t know about me,” he said. “But what you do know is true. I am a rogue, and I live a roguish life. So as you consider this warning, consider this as well. Are you certain you want to marry me?”
* * * *
While Josephine showed Daisy to one of the guest rooms upstairs, Jackson poured himself a brandy, dreading Dannion’s arrival. Jackson could almost hear the censure in his brother’s booming voice, the smug “I told you so.”
Married. Damn Jackson’s foolish idea to take Daisy to Barston, and damn the stubborn woman for insisting she go. That she’d conspired with his brother made him angrier. She’d run to Dannion first, enlisting his support to ensure Jackson did the honorable thing. Not that he could blame her for securing reinforcements. She was too smart not to formulate a solid plan of attack.
Even so, their lack of faith in Jackson was like salt in the wound. Would his reputation as a rake always supersede all? He stiffened, clenching the glass in his hand. If so, perhaps his future bride was not as bright as he thought for binding herself to “someone like him.”
He knew she’d succeed with her plans for a day home somehow. Then there was the matter of her late husband’s estate. He sighed, unconvinced. Money was not the motivation behind their marriage but merely a fortunate benefit. She cared about children. She was protecting the boy by remaining silent, as he was. Jackson shook his head, his thoughts tangling into knots. None of this mattered now; the damage was done.
The whole point of solving the Morgan case was to pave his way to St. Louis. The urge to leave town right now to escape this debacle was hard to resist. A few short weeks ago he wouldn’t have thought twice about shirking a case—or a scandal. He dragged around that damn promise he’d made to Morgan like he’d now drag the shackles of a wife.
But it could be worse.
He had to admit, somewhere deep in his anger, thoughts of marriage to Daisy Lansing stirred a certain amount of excitement. Since she’d kissed him that night, soaking wet from the rain, he’d had one hell of a time keeping her out of his mind. His admiration of her remarkable ability was part of the attraction, and the intellect behind her lively eyes appealed to him as much as what lay beneath her skirts. He couldn’t remember ever being so affected by a woman. Even Miss Swootz hadn’t managed to divert his brain from thoughts of the beautiful widow.
Be careful what you wish for…
The phrase rang in his head almost as loudly as his mother’s words. Her constant reminders that he wasn’t a marrying man. According to her, he wasn’t a working man, either, and Jackson had made sure that most people agreed. He forced away thoughts of his mother and took a long sip of his drink. “To hell with them all,” he muttered.
The calming warmth of brandy flowed like blood through his veins, clearing his head. He was wrong to blame Daisy for their predicament. She’d wanted only to help. He’d brought this trouble to her, and she didn’t deserve it. It was all his own fault.
For once, he was involved in a scandal that wasn’t caused by his lust, and yet he would pay the price for the rest of his life. By this time tomorrow, he’d be a married man.
Proving Randal Morgan’s innocence had damn well better be worth it.
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