Viscount of Vanity, Tammy Andresen [top reads txt] 📗

went later? I can go back inside. I just fancied a bit of air.”

His shoulders relaxed. “No. Now is fine. I’ve worn myself out anyhow.” He mopped his brow with a rag and then rolled down his sleeves, donning his jacket again. “Besides, it might be good for us to talk.”

She stood waiting for him as she fidgeted with the ribbons on her bonnet. “Of course.” How did she tell him that she needed time to think about him, not talk to him?

He held out his elbow and they started down the lane. But they’d no more made it around the first bend when her husband stopped and turned to her. “About Mr. Sharpe.”

“What about him?” she asked, frowning.

“He fancies you.”

She cocked her head to the side. “I suppose he does. He did ask my father for my hand.”

Austin jolted underneath the light pressure of her hand. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think him jealous.

“He did?”

“Yes, but my father turned down the offer. He thought he’d get more money at the auction.” Her mouth pursed as an emptiness settled behind her breastbone. All along, she’d been nothing but a commodity to her father.

“And are you glad or sad that I stopped the bidding?”

She reached out her other hand and Austin took it in his. “There’s no guaranteeing who might have won.”

His face creased. “Did you want him to win?”

Gabriella’s mouth parted as she studied Austin. He looked…pained. “If you’re asking if I have feelings for Mr. Sharpe, the answer is no. Although, I would have been grateful to marry a man who was kind to me and ran a successful business, meager as it is compared to being a viscount. But a life with him would have been better than the one I was living with my father.”

“That was honest.”

“It was.” She squeezed his fingers. “Sincerely, I don’t wish to be anything other than honest with you. Our beginning has been shrouded in fog. If we’re to find our way out, then—”

But she didn’t finish.

Because he let go of her hand and cupped her cheek. His palm was rough from the work he’d done, but somehow that made the touch even more pleasing. Austin leaned down and brushed his mouth over hers in a feather-light touch that made tingles race down her body.

Then he lifted his head, leaving her to blink up at him.

“You, wife, are the most amazing woman.”

That only added to her confusion. Did he or did he not want relations with her? If not, then why kiss her so sweetly? “Thank you.”

He leaned down again, but this time, his lips pressed to her cheek. “How someone as beautiful as you can also be so tender and sincere is beyond me but I’m glad I found you yesterday.”

That made her warm further. “Me too, I think.”

He winced. “Still having doubts about me?”

How did she answer that? “Not doubts. Just gaps. There is so much I don’t know.”

“Such as?”

She drew in a breath attempting to figure out how to delicately ask one of the many questions swirling in her head. “You’re a titled member of the gentry. You could have collected a large dowry. Why pay for me?”

His smile was easy, and his thumb lightly massaged her cheek. “Because it was in my power to do so. To save another person. And because…” His smile slipped. “I am drawn to you, even though I shouldn’t be.”

The first part of his answer sent her heart soaring with happiness. But the second part, clouded her mind with confusion again. The pieces didn’t seem to fit. “Why not?”

He shook his head. “It’s complicated. Or, I suppose, I am complicated.”

Did she share any of Madame Fleur’s theories? It didn’t seem right and yet she didn’t know how else to begin digging. “How are you complicated?”

He dropped his hand and started walking once again. Part of her wanted to repeat the question but she waited instead, falling into step next to him. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. “I was sick as a child. I have to be careful.”

Her heart thrummed and blood pulsed in her ears. Sick? Was this not the man she’d seen exercise for three hours? “I don’t understand.”

* * *

Austin let out a groan of frustration. Of course, she didn’t understand. He should tell her the truth. That he’d outgrown the disease but the fear of suffering another debilitating attack lingered.

He hated the truth. It made him look weak.

Still, she was right. They needed a solid foundation on which to build their relationship.

“I suffer from weak lungs,” he answered. “It’s been some time since I’ve had an attack, but I must guard against it.”

“Oh,” she breathed, her hand coming to his biceps. “Is that why you’re so active?”

“Exactly. I keep myself strong.” He swallowed. “But being uncontrollably amorous as a man can sometimes be when he’s with a woman could pose complications.”

Her hands tightened on his arms. “Thank you for sharing that with me. As it stands, I have a great deal of experience tending the sick and I can help you.”

That grated and his teeth snapped together. She was offering to be his nursemaid? He wished to shout that he was better. Strong, healthy, and he’d care for her, not the other way around, but it was a nettle of his own making. “That’s kind but I’m fine. Really. It’s just the physical part of our relationship I need to be concerned about.”

And not even that, really. If he truly was better, as the doctor said, then he’d be capable of the activity. But the worst attack of his life, the one that had nearly killed him, had happened in the arms of a woman. Not only had it been frightening, it had been…humiliating.

He’d been reduced to a wheezing, gasping, clutching, pathetic ball on the floor as the woman stood over him, clasping her hands until she’d finally slunk out of the room leaving him there to live or die.

That sort of vulnerability