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To a man who had no objection to taking the easy way out, this offer was a godsend.
Besides, I would never be so bourgeois as to lust after my own wife. It implies that one hasn’t the means to keep a mistress.
“It’s not a love match. It’s a marriage of convenience, and there’s not enough warmth between us to light a birthday candle.
“I’ve never had any objection to appearing depraved or villainous. But I draw the line at looking like a prize idiot.”
“Breakfast,” he muttered. “And I wouldn’t care to make you choose between my lovemaking or a hot meal, as the answer would likely be unflattering.
I doubt he could survive a life without privilege. In fact, I believe he would starve in a room filled with food if there were no servants to bring it to the table where he sat.
“Have you ever considered going into a profession?” He gave her a blank look. “What for?” “To earn money.” “Lord, no, child. Work would be an inconvenient distraction from my personal life. And I’m seldom disposed to rise before noon.”
“You said you hated work!” “So I did. But I feel that I should try it at least once, just to be certain.”
Along with the sadness came a gloomy sense of deprivation…and beneath that, even a touch of anger. Was she so unworthy of love, that she’d had so little of it in her life? Did she lack some essential gift for drawing others to herself?
Soul loss, his people called it…the essence of a man becoming trapped in some dark otherworld realm.
I’m busier than the devil in a high wind, every minute of the day.
She could be strong enough to take the risk of loving him, to make demands of him, to have expectations that he might sometimes find difficult to meet.
