“Permission? Truly, Miss Ellingham, that would have taken all the fun out of it, don’t you think?”
“Hardly.”
A devastatingly handsome smile flooded his features, heightening his appeal even more. As if that were even possible, Dorothea thought grimly to herself.
“So, where do I rank among those kisses?” he asked with an impish gleam in his eye.
“I thought that was the more polite way to phrase it.”
Dorothea’s body went still as heated embarrassment flooded her cheeks. He said that deliberately, to taunt her. Annoyed, she pulled a leaf from a nearby plant and crumbled it in her fingers.
“If you must know, I only kiss a man I am strongly considering for marriage.”
His gaze remained puzzled and then his eyes lit as the revelation struck. “After you kiss him, you decide if you will marry?”
“’Tis not as ridiculous as you are making it sound,” Dorothea insisted. “Many other factors about the gentleman have been carefully considered before that point.”
“The kiss is the final test?”
“In a manner of speaking, though I would hardly phrase it in that particular way,” she remarked in rising embarrassment, for it was precisely as the marquess described it. “I think a kiss says a great deal about the potential success of a marriage.”
“Spoken like a starry-eyed virgin.” Lord Atwood’s handsome face brimmed with knowing superiority. “A passionate kiss will not ensure a happy marriage. Over time, lust fades. Sometimes quickly, other times gradually, but it does eventually disappear.”
“Spoken like an experienced rake,” Dorothea countered. “I am not a green girl from the country, my lord. I know something of love and lust and the lack of it in marriage.”
“From experience?” he mocked.
“From observation.”
“And yet you are still eager to embrace marriage?”
“I am,” she replied. “I am willing to make sacrifices, to do my part to make my marriage a success. When necessary, I can put all my efforts into making my husband’s life easier. I will run his household efficiently, plan his social life accordingly, and be an asset in any and every way. I will not, however, be referred to as the burdensome wife by a husband who is dutifully and miserably tied to me.”
He offered her a sly smile. “How can you avoid it?”
“By ensuring there is passion in the beginning. By marrying a man whose kiss excites me beyond measure.”
He made a clucking sound with his tongue. “And you claimed not to be a romantic, Miss Ellingham.”
“That is true. I am not. I do not pine to find my soul mate, my one true love. What I require in a mate goes beyond the basics of good character, sensible temperament, and compatibility. I know I must marry a man I find attractive, exciting. Equally, he should feel an attraction for me. With that firmly in place, I believe anything is possible.”
“What happens if it does not go beyond that stage? If you and your husband never fall in love?”
“I will be content. ’Tis far more than many other couples achieve.” Dorothea glanced up at him, her face open and honest. “I do not have an overly inflated expectation of marriage. I expect my opinion to be respected, my feelings considered, my worth to be appreciated by my husband.”
“Passion will fade, and if love does not exist, why would you remain faithful?”
“A vow is a vow, Lord Atwood. There are no exceptions or codicils.”
“Even under the most trying of circumstances?”
Dorothea bit back a grimace. “I will honor the fidelity of my marriage vows and expect my husband to do the same, even though some might consider that naive and unfashionable.”
He nodded as if he understood, even agreed with her answer. That was unexpected. Many wealthy aristocrats kept mistresses while their wives kept silent.
Dorothea’s heart started beating hard. She caught the scent of his warm skin mingled with the sweet aroma of the spring blooms. It was erotic, intoxicating. His handsome face was contemplative as he stared intently down at her. What was he thinking? Feeling?
“You know, Miss Ellingham, you never did answer my question. About my kiss?” Reaching out, he lifted a stray wisp of hair and brushed it behind her ear.
Dorothea’s eyes widened. She held herself very still, concentrating on retaining her composure and ignoring the riot of emotions that claimed her at his touch. “On the contrary, my lord, I have answered a great many of your questions. Far too many questions that were far too personal.”
His eyes narrowed as he smiled. “What about my kiss, Miss Ellingham? Do you decree it worthy enough to be your husband? Or do you require a second sample?”
Dorothea swallowed the squeak that rose in her throat. He could not possibly be serious. Marriage between them? She did not dare to believe it could really happen. Lord Atwood was a man who liked to flirt and tease. Surely he was teasing her now. Still, she could not deny the thrill she felt at the thought of actually winning his regard, of becoming his wife now that she had experienced his kiss.
“A second kiss?” She tossed her head, striving to look offended. “Impossible.”
“Afraid?” he taunted in a soft voice.
“Not at all.” She lifted her chin and attempted to look calm. Yet deep inside, she feared if he kissed her again, she might very well swoon. “I am merely being practical, my lord. I have never kissed a gentleman a second time and I vowed the only occasion I ever would do so was after I agreed to be his wife.”
Chapter Eight
Carter smiled. It was precisely the type of challenging remark he had hoped she would make. Hearing it solidified in his mind the thought that had been swirling in his head ever since he had spoken with her at the Duke of Warwick’s ball and learned her progressive ideas about marriage. She would be an excellent wife. For him.
Oh, his father would not be entirely thrilled with her, given her lack of fortune and family prestige, and her limited connections. Not to mention the fact that she was not on the duke’s infernal list of potential daughters-in- law.
But those objections would soon disappear when Carter made plain his determination to take her for his wife. His lips curled in an ironic line as he realized selecting Miss Ellingham as his bride was eerily close to Benton’s idiotic plan to thwart the duke by finding an unsuitable woman and insisting she was the only one he would marry.
But Miss Ellingham was not unsuitable. She was a genteel woman, a gentleman’s daughter, raised as a lady. This was the obvious answer. He needed to take a wife. Sooner, rather than later. And thus he was perfectly sincere in his offer, in fact pleased with himself at finding such a brilliant solution.
This was no sham. They would marry. She would belong to him.
“Since it appears the only way I can procure that most desired second kiss, then obviously we must marry. My dear, won’t you say yes to my proposal so that we may kiss again?” He leaned closer, his eyes darkening with purpose. “Kiss and perhaps a bit more.”
It took a few moments for his words to register in her mind. Carter fancied he knew precisely when she had digested them fully, for she pursed her lips, shook her head, then drew a deep breath. “I fear you have drunk too much wine with dinner, my lord.”
“Only two glasses.”
“Then your head must have hit a branch or something when you jumped in the lake yesterday afternoon, for clearly your brain is addled.”
“I am serious.”
