Read Online Jo Beverley - [Rogue ] by An Arranged Mariage - Free Book Online Page B

we can arrive at a rational decision. Though that may be expecting too much of both of us at this moment." There was a sudden note of weariness in his voice that touched her heart. She felt a strange urge to reach out and smooth his golden hair away from his brow.
    He turned away and the leaping flames gilded his profile. "Firstly," he said, like a teacher laying out a lesson, "as I have said, your reluctance springs from a very natural fear. I doubt, however, if your fear will lessen in the near future by itself. The best cure would be for you to fall in love with me, but that seems unlikely." She saw his lips curve and his eyes crinkle in what appeared to be genuine humor. "For a start, I'm sure you have far too much sense. Perhaps I could win your regard if I were to woo you thoroughly, but I have a great many matters to attend to during this visit to England and much of my time is already spoken for. In view of this, I think it would be better for us to conquer your fear together."
    He paused for a moment and glanced at her, but Eleanor had no intention of speaking.
    "Secondly," he said, "you may already be carrying a child. If this is so, I will accept it and try to be as good a father as circumstances allow. But I must admit my attitude to it might be different if I could believe it to be my own."
    Eleanor felt shock like a blow. " What?"
    He looked at her, alerted by the outrage in her voice. "If we confuse the paternity at this point," he explained, speaking more quickly, "then I will be free to delude myself if I wish. If you have reason to believe there will not be a child."
    "I don't believe this!" she gasped. "Of course it is your child, you wretched man. What kind of a woman do you think I am?"
    He focused completely on her. " My child?"
    When she would have spoken he held up a hand and took a deep breath. Even through his tan she could see he had paled. "Oh, my God."
    He sank his head wearily on his knees. There was such devastation in him that Eleanor wanted to go to him, to hold him and soothe him.
    It was as well she did not try, for he surged to his feet so violently she would have been sent flying. He strode to the dark window. She turned slowly to follow him with her eyes, wondering. Some coals settled, crackling and spitting, and there was a sudden flare of light.
    At last he turned, his face altered by a strain she did not understand. "Eleanor," he said, "I have not been in England for over six months. Three weeks ago I was in Paris."
    She studied him in confusion. It was impossible to doubt words spoken with such certainty. "Then what? Who?"
    "Your ravisher was my brother."
    Eleanor struggled to make sense of it. Was this further manipulation? If so, it was skillful beyond her powers of detection. She could swear he had paled to sallow.
    She believed he had not been in England. But her attacker had looked like him... or Lord Stainbridge.
    She swallowed hard. "You haven't by any chance a mysterious brother other than the earl, have you?" she asked faintly.
    He shook his head.
    Eleanor tussled with this switch in reality while her husband stood silent, wrapped in his own thoughts yet watching her with concern. It took time, but she came to recognize the feel of truth in this new scenario. Lionel had said her attacker was Lord Stainbridge and Lionel did not make mistakes of that kind. Lord Stainbridge, not Nicholas, was the one her brother could have manipulated into such a predicament.
    But she liked him. She had trusted him.
    "Do you know why he did it?" she asked, her voice a little thinner than she wished.
    His lids shielded his eyes. "Not exactly, but it was out of character, I assure you." When she saw them again, his eyes were as cold as winter earth. "I am quite anxious to meet your brother, Eleanor."
    His anger raised prickles along her nerves even as she recognized that none of it was directed at her. Eleanor began to savor the fact that Lionel might finally have tangled with more than he could