He felt a wash of relief. He didn’t know why his mother’s death in childbirth had affected him so much—it appeared not to have affected his brother, Alex, at all. But Patrick was terrified by the idea of watching a wife go through childbirth. Even after nearly losing Charlotte when she gave birth to Sarah last year, Alex was still happily counting on having a boy the next time. But Patrick didn’t ever want to put a woman at risk of death simply to produce babies. Children weren’t worth it—not by any measure that he could think of.

Patrick gathered up Sophie’s hands and trapped them just under his chin. “Would you like to take a trip in my clipper for our wedding trip, Sophie? I fear that Napoleon has precluded our making a civilized journey to the Continent.”

Suddenly Sophie remembered something and snatched back her hands.

“Aren’t you going to marry Daphne Boch?”

One of Patrick’s eyebrows flew up. “The French girl? Well, I compromised her, but I compromised you more, don’t you think?”

Sophie stared at him in shock.

“Oh for God’s sake,” Patrick half shouted. “Of course I didn’t compromise Daphne Boch! The girl was stung by a bee and had to be taken off to get a mudpack. If I were affianced to Daphne, I certainly wouldn’t have stayed in your room last night, Sophie.”

She quirked an uncertain smile. She was glad to hear that Patrick wasn’t supposed to marry Daphne. But she discounted his other reason almost entirely. Of course he would have stayed in her room. She had practically thrown herself at him, hadn’t she? The details of last night were beginning to filter through her mind. What on earth was she thinking, welcoming a gentleman into her bedchamber? She must have been deranged!

Although, to be fair, she was expecting Braddon to climb the ladder, and Braddon hadn’t even wanted to kiss her. Braddon wasn’t a likely candidate for the event that had happened last night.

Patrick stared at his wife-to-be in frustration. Sophie obviously saw him as unhesitatingly eager to compromise two young ladies in a single week.

“Sophie, you are the only young lady whom I have ever compromised in my life, either with a kiss or a longer encounter.”

Sophie smiled at him reassuringly, but Patrick was no fool. Her eyes revealed a complete lack of trust. Well, she could learn to trust him after they were married.

“How does Thursday fortnight sound to you as a wedding day?” he asked.

“So soon?”

Patrick was a little startled himself at the suggestion. There would be no harm in waiting a month or even six weeks. But he found a deep impatience inside him at the idea of nights spent without Sophie.