thought much beyond getting his hands on Paget? Touching her, kissing her, tasting her? He certainly couldn’t admit such a thing to her father—a bloody vicar, no less.
“I will not leave Paget to weather this. Naturally. I’ve come to offer marriage.”
The vicar studied him thoughtfully for several moments. “I appreciate your sense of responsibility, my lord. Very honorable. But I’m afraid that is not enough for my daughter.”
Jamie jerked slightly, certain he had misunderstood. “Begging your pardon, sir, but you are denying my suit?”
The vicar nodded. “I’ve always thought my daughter’s heart was bound to your brother.”
A growl rose up in his throat. For the first time, he felt a surge of violence toward his absent brother. Since the last night, he had grown quite accustomed, even gratified, with the notion that Paget was his now. He squashed the sentiment, disgusted himself for it.
“Have you asked your daughter? I think she would tell you that her heart is quite unattached when it comes to my brother—”
“I’ve come to gather that.” He nodded, pushing his slipping spectacles back up his nose. “I’ll grant you that she wouldn’t be so susceptible to your . . . charms if her heart were engaged with your brother.”
He sighed, relieved he did not have to persuade the vicar that Paget was not bound to Owen.
“That said, it’s your heart that concerns me.”
“My heart?”
“Yes. I’m not convinced your affections for my daughter run deep enough.”
He stared at the vicar, quite dumbfounded. “You realize I compromised your daughter. You both stand to become social pariahs? Your very livelihood could be threatened. Even with my support, empty pews on Sunday would be harmful to your position here.”
The vicar nodded. “Yes. That would be a shame, but there are greater tragedies in life.”
Jamie stared at him blankly. “Such as . . .”
The vicar continued, “Such as finding yourself married to someone for whom you feel nothing more than a fleeting attraction. The desires of the flesh are ephemeral. Only love lasts.”
He opened his mouth to object, but could not find the words to persuade the vicar, short of claiming he was in love with Paget. His throat tightened as the very possibility seized him. In love? With Paget? Could it be? The image of her filled his mind and his palms prickled with the overwhelming urge to find her. Hold her close until her father approved of his suit.
He visualized her perfectly. Heard the echo of her voice in his mind. I want passion. Desire. She had no qualms, no shame, admitting it to him. Like a siren’s call, her request was something he’d been unable to ignore. Even if she had not issued it directly to him. And yet she wanted more than that. She wanted it all. Everything. Passion wrapped up in love. The most alarming thing of all was that he couldn’t help thinking loving her would be the easiest thing in the world to do.
Perhaps he already did. Clawing panic swept over him. How could he let that happen? He’d never been good enough. Not even for his own family. What made him think she wanted his love?
Vicar Ellsworth stared at him as if waiting for his admission of love. When it didn’t arrive, the older gentleman stood. “Thank you for calling. I feel much better now that we’ve had this talk.” The vicar smiled as if he had not just denied the earl’s offer of marriage.
Feeling as though he had failed some sort of test, Jamie allowed himself to be led from the office. Upon departing the house, he stopped in the yard and turned. A flicker of curtains in an upstairs window caught his notice. He thought he saw a flash of pale, moonbeam hair.
His panic evaporated. The vague, unsettled feeling lifted from his chest. Resolve stole over him. He felt as though he were back in India, with fresh orders in his hands and a mission to complete.
He had not failed. This was not over.
He and Paget were not even close to being