Delilah Marvelle - Prelude to a Scandal

She wished he would turn so she could look into his eyes and assure him how much he’d always meant to her. “Ever since I’ve known you, Bradford, you’ve always been very generous and supportive of my father. Even whilst all of London chose to mock him. You’ve always believed in the value of his work and treated him with respect. And for that reason alone, I would marry you. Without question.”

He was quiet for a very long moment. He swung back toward her. Hissing out a breath, he shifted his weight from one bare foot to the other. “If we do marry, I wish to buy you a wedding gift. What is it that you want?”

“Pardon?”

He waved a hand toward her. “ What is it that you want? Aside from your father’s freedom, that is. What would make you happy knowing you are settling for a man with half a face and half a heart? Do you want jewelry? Clothing? Name it and it is yours. I genuinely wish to make you happy.”

Abashed, Justine stepped back. Where on earth was this coming from, and what did he mean he only had half a heart? “Happiness isn’t something that can be readily bought. Unlike most women, I’ve never been overly fond of trinkets. I prefer more nostalgic things.”

His hand fell to his side as black eyes captured hers. “Assure me you aren’t about to demand sentimental rubbish I cannot give. I am not that sort of man.”

Ah. But she had faith he would eventually be that sort of man. Until then, there was only one other thing, aside from courtship, romance and love, that she, as a woman, would ever want from him. “All I am asking for is your respect, Bradford. The sort of respect London has never given me, my father or my mother. I don’t want any more of this throwing-me-into-the-tub nonsense or you treating me with agitated disdain I do not deserve. I also humbly ask that your respect not be limited to public display, but to our own personal lives, which hopefully will include you having no other woman in your bed but me. In the wild, it may very well be acceptable to be promiscuous or polygamous, but I have witnessed first-hand how badly that can end if any of those partners feel threatened.”

He stared at her and then belted out a hearty laugh that crinkled the edges of his eyes and shifted the mangled skin on the side of his face.

Oh, for heaven’s sake. He really was hopeless.

“You speak with such conviction,” he guffawed. “It’s marvelous. Absolutely marvelous.”

She supposed this was what happened when a monogamous female tried to pair up with a full-blooded libertine. “I suggest you set up a harem in the east wing of the house,” she tossed out in complete disgust. “At least then I’ll know where all the women are coming from and where to find you should I require attention.”

His laughter and grin slowly faded as his features settled back into a tight, grim mask. “Forgoing associations with women will require no effort on my part. I am rather concerned, however, about the obligation that would fall upon you as a result of it.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t mock me, Bradford. It’s beneath even you. I know full well what those obligations are, and I can assure you, I am more than capable, not to mention willing, to meet them.”

He lowered his chin, challenging her with a hard, burning look. “I don’t doubt your capability. Or your willingness. I do, however, doubt your stamina.”

Her … stamina? What on earth was that supposed to mean? “What are you saying? That it takes a full eight hours of copulation for you to reach completion?”

He choked and raked both hands through his damp hair. “Your father bloody exposed you to his observations a bit too much. No. For God’s sake, I …” He dropped his hands to his side. But said nothing more.

She blinked. “What, then?”

He shook his dark head but still said nothing.

She stepped toward him, oddly compelled, not to mention genuinely concerned. “I should hope that if there is something that will affect our marriage, you would find the decency to tell me now. Before we marry.”

“I … yes. You are right in that. You deserve to know beforehand.” He nodded, as if struggling to comprehend his own thoughts. Taking in a deep breath, he let it out and blurted, “Forgive my own tongue for even saying it, but I am obsessed with sex. I think about it all the time.”

Justine pulled in her chin, startled by the admission, and laughed. “Forgive me, Bradford—and my father would agree with me on this—but what male of any species isn’t obsessed with it?”

“Justine — ” He squeezed his eyes shut, as if wanting her to understand something he simply could not put into words, then eventually reopened them and said in a cool, low tone, “Allow me to better explain this. If I gave in to every lewd thought and every lewd urge that ever possessed me—the way I used to before I ended up with this face—in time you would only learn to despise me and my advances. And I don’t want that. I genuinely wish to lead a normal life by controlling all physical interactions to the best of my abilities.”

Her brows shot up. Why … he appeared to be forthright.

He swiped a hand over his face. “If you haven’t noticed, I have no female servants. It was necessary to eliminate any temptation that would have caused me to stray from the self-governed control I’ve adhered to these past eight months. As such, you will have no lady’s maid. I’ve already enlisted an excellent French man for you, who is trained in all matters of female dress and hair. I can assure you, Henri is far more female than any lady’s maid you’ll ever have. My hope is that despite him being male, he will exceed your expectations.”

Oh. Dear. God. Her lady’s maid was going to be a … man? Whilst she was to be the only female in the entire house? Were Bradford’s urges that uncontrollable?

Though, yes, she was looking forward to bedding him, she was somewhat concerned about what his definition of stamina really meant. Daily advances she could easily take on. But what if he meant hourly advances for the rest of her life?

Justine swallowed, trying to fend off the burning heat consuming her face. “Did you plan on disclosing any of this to me?”

“Yes. On our wedding night.”

“Lovely. Why do I not feel comforted by that admission?”

He stared her down. “Rest assured, Justine, I have never forced myself upon a woman and I would never force myself upon you. Your submission would be entirely voluntary.” He continued to intently hold her gaze. “Do you have any further concerns? Because now would be the time to name them.”

Justine wet her lips and wondered what under heaven and above hell she was about to agree to. But then again … the man was a rake. That was what rakes did. Obsess about copulation and women. Everyone in London knew that. And no one, not even all the upper prudes, seemed all that concerned, aside from the moral aspect of it.

She eyed him. “I suppose I wouldn’t be so concerned if I knew you weren’t going to demand hourly performances for the rest of my life. Or involve other women.”

“It is my duty and honor to alleviate those concerns.” He held up his right hand beside his head and set his left on his chest. “I solemnly swear to never demand hourly performances or involve other women in our lives.” He dropped his hands back into place. “There you are. You have no further concerns.”

Justine couldn’t help but stare at him. “Do you find yourself amusing?”

He pointed to himself. “Do I look amused? I am being quite serious. Now. I recommend we get you home.”

Without sparing her another glance, he strode over to the braided bell pull and yanked on it a number of times as if he were worried Jefferson wouldn’t respond. “If all goes well with your father’s release, as I am hoping it will, I expect to see you in church next week at the appointed time. I will see to it all of your wet clothes are laundered and returned before then. Jefferson will fetch those cloaks for you and personally see to it you arrive home. Good night.” He offered a curt nod, departed into the adjoining room and quietly closed the door, leaving her to wait for Jefferson alone.