Page 101 of A Perilous Passion

“Charlotte, are you listening, my love?”

“Um, yes. You’ve found employment for Justin. Thank you. That was very generous.” Assuming he’d done it from philanthropic motives, not selfish ones. But then, if he’d really wanted Justin out of the way, he could have sent him further afield than London.

“You won’t miss him?”

“Of course not.” She shifted her mental focus back to what Rafe was saying. Or rather, what he was not saying.

“You think I still care for him? No, I love him only as a friend.”

Rafe’s gaze raked her face. There was a vulnerability in them that belied his smile. “But you do love him.”

Realization washed over her. She leaned forward and seized his hand.

“Not as much as I love you,” she said, blinking away an unexpected tear of happiness. “Nowhere near as much.”

Rafe’s smile turned brilliant. “Truly?”

“Truly.”

All the gloss of wealth, and the façade of nobility, had fallen away from him. He was just a man, craving a woman’s love.

Her love.

But was there enough to sustain a union between the two of them? A union that would not be an easy path for either to tread?

She turned to him. “Are you quite sure you still want to marry me?”

“Of course I do. Why would anything have changed?”

“Won’t your family think you’ve married horribly beneath you? Especially when they learn who my father was…”

“Perhaps you’re not aware—” He stripped off his gloves and took both her hands between his. “I’ve been researching your pedigree, in case anyone should ask. You may inform those who threaten to look down their noses at you that you’re descended from no less a personage than Charlemagne.” He grinned. “On your mother’s side, naturally. As to my family, with the exception of my cousin Lilith, they’ve long since put me down as an eccentric whom they’d only visit if overcome by penury or ennui.” He grimaced. “Even before the unfortunate Sneezing Incident.”

“How very alone that must have made you feel!” Charlotte murmured.

“Believe me, I find my own company easier to bear than that of most others of my class. You’re an exception. I find I can tolerate you quite well. Most of the time.”

That required an admonishing slap on the wrist, which made him smile engagingly, which aroused, once more, the yearning she felt for him—an attraction so potent she’d felt it from the very first moment of their meeting, though she hadn’t recognized it for what it was at the time.

He was looking at her with a fierce possessiveness that only added to the heat she was already feeling. The urge to sit in his lap and nuzzle against the thick tumble of his hair made her dizzy.

Only one thing stopped her from doing exactly that.

“Rafe, I love you,” she said. “I can’t deny it. And, believe me, I’d like nothing better than to take you for my husband. But there’s one obstacle I fear remains insurmountable.”

His expression was impossible to read. “Tell me.”

“You know who my father was. When word gets out that you’ve married the daughter of Abraham Cutler, you’ll be a social outcast. I couldn’t live with myself if I turned you into a pariah.”

“Ah.”

He released her hands and produced a folded paper from his inside pocket. With a flourish, he offered it to her.

“What’s this?” she asked, as she took it.

“It’s the reason I couldn’t come to you yesterday. I had to await its arrival.”

She broke the seal and scanned the writing, then stared back at him in stunned amazement. “It’s a pardon! For Papa!”