For once the man looked lost for words. Artemis congratulated herself on that small victory. She hoped the threat of having to wed her would make the alternative, of merely employing her, more attractive.
Before he could recover his voice, she rattled on with counterfeit eagerness, “Such an arrangement would answer all your objections, would it not? I would be a perfectly respectable married woman with a husband working abroad. No one would raise an eyebrow over my living arrangements. And you would not have to worry that I might marry anyone else in your absence. Since neither of us is inclined to wed in future, it would create no encumbrance.”
As she spoke, Mr. Northmore’s dazed stare tensed into a scowl of profound concentration. Or perhaps it betrayed his deep aversion to the idea of marrying her.
Given their vast differences and mutual bitterness, that was quite natural and all to the good, Artemis told herself, disregarding a foolish pang of humiliation. She did not want to marry him either, not even as a pure formality. The greater his distaste, the more anxious he would be to accept a less drastic alternative.
Hadrian Northmore sprang from his seat and began to pace in front of the hearth, one hand tucked behind his back while he rubbed his chin with the other.
“You know, that may not be as daft a scheme as it sounded at first.” His words stumbled out in a disjointed mutter, as if he were trying to persuade himself.
Good heavens! He wasn’t actually considering it, was he? For the first time in her life she’d acted on an impulse and look where it had landed her.
“You are too polite, sir.” Artemis endeavored to undo the damage. “It is a ridiculous idea. I see that now. Let us think no more of it, I beg you.”
He seemed too lost in his own thoughts to heed her. “I could adopt the lad as my heir. If we married, you and he would both bear the Northmore name. By the time he is old enough for school, the scandal of his birth may be forgotten and people might assume he is our son.”
“Perhaps so, but—”
“Say no more, Lady Artemis. You have persuaded me.” Hadrian Northmore strode toward her. Seizing her by the arms, he raised her to her feet as if she weighed no more than a feather. “For the sake of our nephew, you must marry me!”
Chapter Four
If anyone had predicted he’d ever consider marriage again, let alone to the daughter of a marquis, Hadrian would have laughed in his face. Yet, here he was, not simply considering marriage to Lady Artemis, but quite determined to go ahead with it. His hands clamped around her slender arms as he awaited her answer.
“You and I marry?” Her eyes darted anxiously. “Surely you cannot mean that. We only met yesterday and we did not get on well.”
Her reluctance only strengthened his resolve. “We have our differences, I’ll admit. But we have one vital interest in common—the welfare of our nephew. Besides, it is not as if we will have to share a home for the rest of our lives. After a mere eight months, we will have no need for any contact beyond an annual exchange of letters.”
Before she could reply, the footman called out from his place by the door, “Begging your pardon, my lady. Do you need any help?”
With a guilty start, Hadrian realized how it must look to the servant—him looming over Lady Artemis, holding her so close. He might appear to be threatening her, or perhaps taking liberties. Both notions unsettled him in different ways.
Abruptly he released the lady and stepped back.
“Thank you, Roger.” Her answer sounded calmer than she appeared at close range. “I am in no danger from Mr. Northmore. If I require your assistance, I will not hesitate to call.”
Lowering her voice, she directed her next words at Hadrian. “Would it not be easier to provide me with a house and money for Lee’s expenses?”
Her reluctance reassured Hadrian. If she’d been eager to accept, it would have put him on his guard. “Think of the gossip and the harm to your reputation if anyone discovered you were living at my expense out of wedlock. I do not wish to bring more scandal upon your noble family. So it must be marriage or we will have a fight on our hands. Which do you choose?”
Expectant silence stretched tighter and tighter as he waited for Lady Artemis to make her decision. Hadrian felt a strange rush of danger and exhilaration, as if he were teetering on the brink of a high cliff above treacherous blue-violet waters. Though the lady’s delicate features remained impassive, Hadrian fancied he could hear the low hum of her thoughts as they raced through her mind.
Then her chin tilted a trifle higher and she announced, “I suppose I must choose marriage.”
“Excellent!” Only two days ago he had glimpsed his family and all his plans laid waste. Now they seemed to rise from the ashes.
The force of that dizzying turnabout pushed him toward Lady Artemis, his lips seeking hers as if to claim the spoils of victory.
The fine contours of her features, her flawless alabaster skin and her cool, detached manner all gave the impression she was not a real woman at all, but a classical statue that had somehow gained the power of movement and speech. It surprised Hadrian to find her lips so soft and warm beneath his. The unexpected pleasure tempted him to press it further. Then he remembered to whom those sweet lips belonged.
Before Lady Artemis could sputter with indignation, or slap his face, he drew back, speaking as if nothing had passed between them. “Now that you have consented, shall we set the date?”
“Soon.” Lady Artemis sounded dazed by his sudden kiss. “As soon as you can procure a special license.”
Her insistence on haste seemed odd, given her prior reluctance. Perhaps she wanted the wedding over with quickly, before she could change her mind.
Hadrian did not want to risk that happening. “Soon it shall be. I will go up to London at once to make the necessary arrangements.”
“Lee and I will await your return.” Lady Artemis made a formal little bow. “Send a carriage to Bramberley to collect us for the wedding.”
As she swept from the room with majestic grace, Hadrian’s mouth fell open just enough for the tip of his tongue to emerge and swipe over his lips, as if he expected the elusive flavor of her kiss to linger.
As she finished packing during Lee’s nap, Artemis caught herself gazing into space, lost in the memory of Hadrian Northmore’s swift, bewildering kiss.
For all its abruptness and vigor, it had not been rough or possessive. Indeed, the smooth heat of his lips had been a far more agreeable sensation than she would ever have anticipated. Not that she’d anticipated a kiss from Mr. Northmore in her wildest dreams.
Was this how his brother had ensnared her sister—luring Daphne to defy her family and risk ruin for the sake of a few fleeting moments of pleasure in his arms?
That thought rekindled the outrage that had smoldered in Artemis’s heart for more than a year. How could she have agreed to wed into the family of her brother’s killer? Not only agreed, but proposed the preposterous idea in the first place! No matter how desperate her circumstances, no matter how businesslike an arrangement it was meant to be, such a union could not be right.
Tiptoeing into the nursery, she gazed down at her nephew, asleep in his cot. A sweet, brooding ache swelled in her bosom.
“I would do anything for you,” she whispered. “But this feels like such a betrayal of your mama and uncle.”
She could still picture her brother’s handsome face, contorted with reckless rage, on the day he’d discovered Daphne was with child. “Damned if I will let that ill-bred scoundrel marry into