is your objection to me speaking to her?’ Edmund pressed on. Even a decent gentleman, like Glenville, could not help but wish for a better man than Edmund for his sister’s husband, apparently. Edmund was disappointed, but not surprised. ‘I am perfectly willing to withdraw if she should refuse me.’
Glenville’s expression, however, seemed filled with kindness. ‘I do not object to you speaking to Amelie, Edmund. I do not object to you at all. I am merely taken aback.’
‘That is all I ask,’ Edmund said. ‘To speak to her.’
‘By all means. And I wish you well.’ Glenville walked to the door. ‘Wait here. I will send her to you.’
He left the room, and Edmund pressed his fingers against his temple. No one would think this viscount’s daughter should marry a mere bastard. Even Edmund did not think himself worthy of her. Her marriage to him would cause talk. More talk when a baby was born too soon, but this was the respectable solution, the honourable choice.
A few minutes passed before the door opened again.
Amelie walked in. ‘Edmund?’ She looked surprised and less than happy to see him. ‘What are you doing? My brother said you wanted to speak to me.’
She also looked unwell.
‘Are you ill?’ he asked, taking a step towards her.
She halted him with her hand. ‘Mornings are bad for me. Tell me what you are about, though. My brother looked uncertain. You did not say anything to him about—about—?’
About Brussels? ‘Never,’ he responded. ‘I gave my word.’
‘Well, my guess is that my brother is going to pound me with questions after you leave. Why would you wish to speak to me? Marc and Tess are going to want to know. When the truth comes out about—about me, this might make them think you were involved.’
‘I was involved,’ he said. ‘I am involved. Stop talking and listen to me.’
She clamped her mouth shut and crossed her arms over her chest.
‘You ran off last night before I could make plain to you what we must do—’
Her eyes flickered, but she did not move.
‘There is only one solution, Amelie. We must think of what is best for the child, not for you or me.’ He was not coming to the point. He took a breath. ‘We should marry. Marry me, Amelie.’
‘Marry?’ She looked shocked.
He hurried on. ‘The baby will have my name instead of no name. He or she must never know the scandal of being a bastard or of growing up not knowing who his parents really were. The child will be able to grow up respectably.’
‘You cannot truly wish to marry me!’ she cried.
He’d never dreamed it to be possible. ‘You cannot wish to marry me, but our wishes cannot matter in this. We must do this for the baby.’
‘For the baby,’ she repeated, glancing away.
He strode up to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. ‘I know what it is to grow up a bastard. It is an albatross one must carry all one’s life. It is the fact against which everything else one does is judged. I do not want that for our child. I cannot allow what I have done to so burden a child.’
‘It was my doing, Edmund,’ she said sadly. ‘You should not have to pay the consequences of what I have done.’
‘What we have done,’ he corrected. ‘I accept my part in it.’ Indeed, he knew he bore the lion’s share of the guilt. ‘But the child. He or she should not have to pay the price.’
In so many ways Edmund had been lucky. He’d not been abandoned to the streets of the Rookery. His mother had loved him. His father had acknowledged him and raised him as a gentleman, sent him to school and purchased his commission. But, even so, never, in any situation, had he been allowed to forget he was a bastard.
‘What say you, Amelie?’ he went on. ‘Will you marry me?’
* * *
Amelie glanced away, at war with herself.
The idea of it made her immediately feel safe, when before she’d been consumed with fear. To face this problem with Edmund at her side dispelled the fear.
She winced inwardly. How awful of her to think of her baby as a problem. Edmund was right that they should think of the baby, not as a problem, but as a child who would grow into adulthood. What they decided right now would affect the rest of the child’s life.
But marrying Edmund would affect his life, too. Could she rob him of his future? All his wonderful plans?
She walked over to a chair and lowered herself into it.
She lifted her gaze to him. ‘Yes, Edmund, I will marry you.’
A relieved smile crossed his face, and he sat in the chair adjacent to hers. ‘We are in agreement, then.’
‘What shall we do now?’ she said.
‘We should marry right away,’ he said. ‘I will procure a special licence.’
‘Yes, right away,’ she murmured. ‘People will still talk when the baby comes early.’
‘But not so much. All is forgiven if we are married.’ His tone was subdued.
They were both resigned to a fate neither would have chosen. They sat in silence together while the mantel clock ticked away.
‘Marc and Tess will want to know what we discussed here,’ she said finally.
‘We will talk to them together,’ he said. ‘If you desire it.’
‘Yes. I do agree.’ They might be strangers discussing how to reach a destination.
‘What do they know about that night in Brussels?’ he asked.
‘Why, nothing,’ she responded, more energy reaching her voice. ‘My family still believes I walked back to the hotel with Captain Fowler.’
‘You did not tell them he broke the engagement?’
‘There was no reason to,’ she explained. ‘Especially when he was injured. When his parents wrote that he had to withdraw from the betrothal because of his injuries, it was easy to accept it and say nothing.’
‘You were not sorry?’ Now his voice showed some emotion.
‘Not at all.’ She’d be pleased never to face Fowler again. Ever. ‘Although I was sorry he was so grievously hurt in the battle.’
‘Your brother thought I was daft to ask to court you,’ he said with some humour.
‘You told him you wished to court me? He did not say so.’ No wonder Marc had acted so strangely. She could not help but laugh. ‘He must think we are strangers!’
He
