Page 109 of Not a Fine Gentleman

“I know you will.” Reliving his tenderness last night, she smiled at him. “I have every confidence in you.”

Genevieve stood and held out a hand to her husband. “Come, my love, I do believe I am in need of refreshment.”

Christian hesitated, eyeing Connor. “I’m not sure now is the right time…”

“Now is the best time.” Looking more determined than usual, Genevieve wiggled her fingers.

Christian shot a meaningful look at Connor but left with his wife. Margaret focused on Connor. What was amiss? She’d never seen him so distressed. Agitation rolled off him in waves. Was it the case? The fact that Finch had gotten away at present?

Or something more personal?

Taking care not to aggravate her injuries, Margaret stood. Pain raced over her, and she sucked in her breath. Connor was at her side in an instant, gently holding her by the elbows and guiding her. The strength in his arms, the focused expression, his very scent aroused her tenderness for him. An answering tightness in her abdomen created a sweet ache.

Once standing, Margaret gripped the backs of his arms and looked up into his face, letting the love in her heart show in her expression. “I’m glad you weren’t badly hurt. I couldn’t bear it if something had happened to you.”

Stepping out of reach, he winced. “This kind of thing happens more often than one would think. I’m in a dangerous line of work.”

“I thought I understood that, considering—” she mimed that moment when she’d hit him with a big stick and smiled ruefully.

He didn’t return her smile.

Sobering, she shook her head. “But now that I understand better what you face, I’m persuaded that I’ll fear for you every time you leave for work.”

He looked away. “You shouldn’t have to.”

Cautiously, she asked, “Couldn’t you find a different profession?”

He huffed a sad laugh. “It’s all I know.”

Despite his fierce independence and strong manliness, perhaps he would consider an alternative so many younger sons of noblemen chose. “I have a meeting in a few days with my solicitor. I’m sure my marriage settlement provided well for me, so if we…”

Despite his passionate kisses last night, he hadn’t actually mentioned marriage. He’d wanted marriage with that horrible Vivian person, so surely he wanted to marry Margaret. Didn’t he?

Before she decided on a tactful way to ask his intentions, his expression darkened. He shook his head. “I refuse to live off your money like a lazy parasite. I’m not a family man. I can’t be. I’m sorry, Meg, but this must stop. We can’t be together.”

He didn’t mean it. Clearly, his words stemmed from a defensive place inside him, the same source that protected her from heartbreak during all those years of an unhappy marriage but which others found off-putting.

She stepped closer and reached for him. “I don’t give two figs about what people might think. Not any longer. And my family will come around. I know they will. Even if they don’t, it doesn’t matter.” She shored up her confidence and confessed, “I love you, Connor.”

He flinched. “Please don’t. We have no future.” For an instant, frustration and sorrow and something akin to true grief shimmered in his overly shiny eyes.

His words stung, but she persisted. “We have a future if we claim it.” Moving in close, she put a hand on his cheek. “Connor, I know you’ve been hurt in the past, but I assure you, I am in earnest. I truly do love you, and I’d be proud to call myself your wife—if you want me.” That carefully hidden yet very vulnerable place in her opened up.

That hardened look returned. “I don’t want a wife.”

All warmth drained out of her.

“I’m sorry, my lady. Please forgive my conduct last night. It won’t happen again. Good bye.” He bowed.

A piece of her heart sheared off and fell onto the floor. She stood there, bleeding and in agony. She’d bared herself to him, but he’d returned her honesty with dismissal. Fury stepped in like a buffer to shield her from him, from further pain. Twice she’d given her heart to a man, and both times, they’d discarded it as a thing of naught.

She was unlovable.

So be it. She was better off alone. Experience should have taught her that. She left that piece of her heart there to die neglected at Connor’s feet, and walked away. From it. From him. From them.