He loved hearing her say his name, even in that starchy, wary, put-upon tone. “Your promise first.”

“I promise.”

“I believe your father, or Wilton,” Nick corrected himself, “truly wishes you harm, Leah. When I discussed your situation with your brother Trenton, Lord Amherst, he characterized Wilton’s dealings with you as not sane.”

She gave him the barest nod of agreement, and her fingers closed more tightly around his.

“I can offer you safety as my wife, but that’s all I can offer you. You will have safety, a place in Society if you want it. My family will accept you, and my title and wealth will be yours to share.”

She swiveled her head to regard him, confusion and hurt lurking in her eyes. “I don’t understand.”

“You won’t have me,” Nick said, hating himself, hating the way the hurt gained ground at those words.

“What does that mean?”

“We will have a white marriage, Leah,” Nick said gently. “I do not want children, not with you. The only way to absolutely ensure I have no legitimate issue is to abstain from relations with you.”

“Relations?” She made the word sound putrid.

“Coitus,” Nick clarified. “I will be your husband, not your lover.”

“Ever?” Leah’s expression was suffused with confusion. “I truly don’t understand.”

“I did not expect you would,” Nick said on a sigh. At the present moment, his own comprehension was dodgy at best. “And I did not want to put you in this position, but it seems the best I can do.”

“But you…” She waved a hand toward the wall, a world of accusation in the gesture.

“I desire you, yes.” Nick’s middle finger traced the edge of her hairline. He hadn’t planned to touch her, though she didn’t stop him. “I’m sorry for that. A gentleman would have kept his prurient interest to himself.”

Now she swatted his hand away. “It didn’t feel prurient.”

Nick sighed and wrapped her hand in both of his. “I am sorry for the way I acted just now. It was badly done of me.”

Terribly, horribly, egregiously badly done. Nick did not let his gaze stray to the decanter, but it was calling to him loudly.

“I am confused, Nicholas. You desire me, but it shames you. You want to protect me, but you do not want me to be your countess in truth.”

Argument was good. Argument would give her some purchase on her self-possession. “Firstly,” Nick said, “I want to keep you safe from Wilton’s schemes. Marriage will do that. Secondly, I want to keep you safe from me. Abstaining will do that.”

She folded her arms, the drawbridge going up on the citadel of her dignity. “What on earth can you mean?”

Nick took her right hand, brought it to his lips, kissed her knuckles, and then tucked her hand back into her lap—all without the least clue why he’d provoke her further.

“I did kill my mother,” he said, rising and turning his back. “No woman should have to bear my children. I’m larger than my father, and you are not larger than my mother.”

“That hardly means we’d have to abstain. We’d have to take precautions.”

Nick was quiet for a long time, wishing to hell and heaven both she’d just accept his proposal and let them get on with the business—and how did a decent woman know of precautions, anyway?

“That’s not it, is it?” Leah guessed, crossing the room to face him with a swish of skirts signaling unstoppable female determination. “There’s something else, isn’t there?”

She deserved the truth, but silence on this issue had been a habit for so long Nick couldn’t bring himself to have mercy on her. He held her gaze, willing her to see what he couldn’t tell her, knowing he was being a coward.

“You love another,” Leah decided, her tone ominously calm. “You love a woman you cannot marry, and you’ve promised her your marriage will be in name only. I’m not sure if this is chivalrous of you, Nicholas, or deranged.”

Nick blinked, realizing in an instant Leah’s hypothesis was a version of truth, and—more important—credible to her.

“I’ve promised my father a countess. I’ve promised you safety, and you’ve promised me you will think about this before you answer.” The pseudo-syllogism pleased him, bringing order to a difficult situation.

“Do you want me to hate you?” Leah asked, incredulity seeping into her words. “You offer me safety and the daily insult of knowing your promises to another woman preclude you from giving to me that which you’ve already assured yourself—assured us both—I could desire passionately.”

“It isn’t like that,” Nick said. It was exactly like that. “I cannot risk having children with you, Leah. If what you want is easing of your needs, I can do that without taking my clothes off.”

It would kill him to attempt it, and yet—

“Nicholas”—Leah’s voice was very soft—“I’ve given you my word I will consider your offer, and I will keep my word, but right now, I do not understand you. What you’ve offered, and what you just said, is the first indication I’ve had that you are capable of unkindness. I am disappointed, and will take my leave of you.”

She turned to go. Nick’s hand on her arm stopped her.

“I am sorry,” he said, searching her gaze for some hint of common ground, of understanding. “If there were another way, if you find another way, I’d offer you that instead.”

“That provides a great deal of comfort, Nicholas.” Leah’s voice was still soft, but her eyes narrowed slightly, and she didn’t give Nick time to react before she leaned up and brushed a kiss across his lips.

Her pace was dignified, her spine straight as she took her leave. The door closed quietly behind her, leaving Nick, two fingers against his lips, staring at the closed door in miserable silence.

“I’m off to the arms of my muse.” Val bowed to his companions and slipped out the door, the ladies having already vacated the dining room to retire above stairs, arm in arm.

Ethan eyed Nick from across the table. “Do we get drunk here or in the study?”

Plain speaking, for which Nick was grateful. “We’ll be closer to the piano in the study,” Nick said. “Am I that obvious?”

“Not particularly.” Ethan shoved to his feet. “But between you and Lady Leah, there was a certain lack of conversation. Did you upset the lady during that tête-à-tête you had earlier today?”

“Royally.” Nick followed Ethan out the door. “And she deserves better.”

“Has it occurred to you to offer her better?” Ethan asked as he pushed open the door of the study and headed to the decanter.

“You don’t know what I did offer her,” Nick said. “Don’t be skimping on the brandy, Brother. I have serious matters to regret.”

Ethan handed him a glass half-full of brandy. “Not you too.”

“Me too.” Nick nodded his thanks. “I’ve spoken with Leah’s brothers, and something must be done, sooner rather than later.” Nick lowered himself to the sofa.

“Speaking of Lady Leah’s brothers”—Ethan slid down on the other end of the couch—“I was out riding this afternoon and came across Darius Lindsey. The last time I saw him, he was in the company of that dreadful Cowell woman. The one who likes to rouge her nipples under her silks.”

“The lovely Blanche. I’m supposed to warn him off of her, so to speak. I didn’t realize he was rusticating, but without Leah to squire around, I don’t suppose there’s any need for him to be in Town.” Nick closed his eyes and toed off his boots, then propped his feet on the low table before the sofa. “I did something stupid today, Ethan.”

“If we’re to imitate the Papists, the proper introduction is ‘Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,’” Ethan replied easily. “Are you sure I’m the one you want to talk it over with? Windham is the nonjudgmental sort.”

Nick smiled slightly. “Val can be a bloody Puritan, and I’ll no doubt hear from him directly, in any case.”

Ethan got up with the air of a man resigned to a long-suffering fate, and brought the decanter over to the table. When he sat, he chose the center of the couch, not touching Nick, but not as far as he could get from Nick, either.