need my sisters. Rose is in New York but she’s a PR whizz and Violet is the most managing person I have ever met. I bet they could come up with a plan to save Hawksley.’
He needed more than a plan. He needed a miracle. ‘My grandparents followed the rules all their lives. They looked after the estate, the people who lived on it. Lived up to their responsibilities. My parents were the opposite. They didn’t spend much time here. Unless they were throwing a party. They preferred London, or the Caribbean. Hawksley was a giant piggy bank, not a responsibility.’
Her eyes softened. ‘What happened?’
‘You must have read about them?’ He pushed his half-empty plate away, suddenly sickened. ‘If your parents are famous for their rock-solid marriage, mine were famous for their wildness— drugs, affairs, exotic holidays. They were always on the front pages. They divorced twice, remarried twice, each time in some ridiculous extravagant way. The first time they made me a pageboy. The second time I refused to attend.’ He took a swig of water, his mouth dry.
It was awful, the resentment mixed with grief. When would it stop being so corrosive?
‘Yes, now I remember. I’m so sorry. It was a plane crash, wasn’t it?’
‘They had been told it wasn’t safe but the rules didn’t apply to them. Or so they thought.’
Daisy pushed her seat back and stood up, collecting up the plates and waving away his offer of help. ‘No, you cooked, I’ll clear.’
He sat for a moment and watched as she competently piled the dishes and saucepans up by the side of the sink, rinsing the plates. He had to make it clear to her, make sure she knew exactly what he was offering. ‘Marriage is a business.’
Daisy carried on rinsing, running hot water into the old ceramic sink. ‘Once, perhaps...’
‘I have to marry, have children, there are no other direct heirs and there’s a danger the title will go extinct if I don’t. But I don’t want...’ He squeezed his eyes shut for a brief moment, willing his pulse to stay calm. ‘I won’t have all the emotional craziness that comes with romantic expectations.’
She put the dishcloth down and turned, leaning against the sink as she regarded him. ‘Seb, your parents, they weren’t normal, you do know that? That level of drama isn’t usual.’
He laughed. ‘They were extreme, sure. But abnormal? They just didn’t hide it the way the rest of the world does. I look at my friends, their parents. Sure, it’s all hearts and flowers and nicknames at the beginning but I’ve lost count of how many relationships, how many marriages turn into resentment and betrayal and anger. No, maybe my ancestors knew what they were doing with a businesslike arrangement—compatibility, rules, peace.’
‘My parents love each other even more than they did when they got married.’ A wistful smile curved Daisy’s lips. ‘Sometimes it’s like it’s just the two of them even when we’re all there. They just look at each other and you can tell that at that moment it’s like there’s no one else in the room.’
‘And how do you feel at those moments?’
Her eyelashes fluttered down. ‘It can be a little lonely but...’
Exactly! Strengthened by her concession he carried on, his voice as persuasive as he could manage. ‘Look, Daisy. There’s no point me promising you romance because I don’t believe in it. I can promise you respect, hopefully affection. I can promise that if we do this, become parents together, then I will love the baby and do my utmost to be the best parent I can.’
‘I hope you will. But we don’t need to be married to co-parent.’
‘No,’ he conceded.
‘I’ve worked really hard to be my own person, build up my own business.’ The blue eyes hardened. ‘I don’t depend on anyone.’
‘But it’s not just going to be you any more, is it?’
‘I’ll cope, I’ll make sure I do. And not wanting to marry you doesn’t mean that I don’t want you in the baby’s life. I’m here, aren’t I?’
Seb sat back, a little nonplussed. His title and the castle had always meant he had enjoyed interest from a certain type of woman—and with his academic qualifications and the bestselling history books he was becomingly increasingly well known for appealed to a different type. To be honest he hadn’t expected he’d have to convince anyone to marry him—he had, admittedly a little arrogantly, just expected that he would make his choice and that would be it.
Apparently Daisy hadn’t got that memo.
Not that there was a reason for her to; she hadn’t been raised to run a home like Hawksley, nor was she an academic type looking to become a college power couple.
‘If you won’t marry me then the baby will be illegitimate—I know.’ He raised his hand as she opened her mouth to interrupt. ‘I know that doesn’t mean anything any more. But for me that’s serious. I need an heir—and if the baby isn’t legitimate it doesn’t inherit. How will he or she feel, Daisy, if I marry someone else and they see a younger sibling inherit?’
Her face whitened. ‘You’d do that?’
‘If I had a younger brother then, no. But I’m the last of my family. I don’t have any choice.’
‘What if I can’t do it?’ Daisy was twisting her hands together. ‘What if it’s not enough for me?’ She turned and picked the dishcloth back up. Her back was a little hunched, as if she were trying to keep her emotions in.
‘It’s a lot to give up, Seb. I always wanted what my parents have, to meet someone who completes me, who I complete.’ She huffed out a short laugh. ‘I know it’s sentimental but when you grow up seeing that...’
‘Just give it a go.’ Seb was surprised by how much he wanted, needed her to say yes—and not just because of the child she carried, not just because she could solve the whole heir issue and provide the stability he needed to turn the castle’s fortunes around.
But they were the important reasons and Seb ruthlessly pushed aside the memory of that night, the urge to reach out and touch her, to run a finger along those long, bare legs. ‘If it doesn’t work out or if you’re unhappy I won’t stop you leaving.’
‘Divorce?’ Her voice caught on the word and her back seemed to shrink inwards.
‘Leave that.’ He stood up and took the dishcloth from her unresisting hand, tilting her chin until she looked up at him, her eyes cloudy. ‘If you wanted then yes, an amicable, friendly divorce. I hope you’ll give it a real try though, promise me five years at least.’
That was a respectable amount of time; the family name had been dragged through the mud enough.
‘I don’t know.’ She stepped back, away from his touch, and he dropped his empty hand, the silk of her skin imprinted on his fingertips. ‘Getting married with a get-out clause seems wrong.’
‘All marriages have a get-out clause. Look.’ Seb clenched his hands. He was losing her. In a way he was impressed; he thought the title and castle was inducement enough for most women.
It
