Because of his heritage, because of the legacy his vile father had handed down to him, which was no legacy at all, just being allocated to the rubbish heap, he had a strong urge to strike something. He’d never felt so tainted, so cursed by his origins. “If I were to get you with child, it would be his blood coursing through the babe.”

She smiled wistfully. “No, it would be yours.”

Not much liking the way her words called to his pride, he gave his attention back to the hearth. Was he seriously considering striving to give her what she desired? Then what was he to do? Watch her walk out of his life? He’d always known his time with her would be brief. Would two or three more weeks of passion and a jolly good time be enough to last him a lifetime?

“Your son would be a duke,” she said with a measure of guilt coupled with an urging he understand all she was offering him. “He would hold within his hands what most men can only dream of and never attain: land, wealth, power. None of Lushing’s properties are in a state of disrepair. His ducal estate is the envy of other lords. Your son would walk those hallowed halls. He would attend the finest of schools, receive the best education. He would want for nothing. He would be ranked above your father, seated ahead of him at tables. You relish the fact that you have more power in your world than your father has in his. In your father’s world, your son would hold more power. What an incredible dodge that would be to pull off, wouldn’t it? The idea must appeal to the swindler in you, surely.”

My son would be a duke. He could never offer any son he claimed that prestige, that influence. But hidden in shadows, with a series of clandestine trysts, with secrets held close, he could give the fruit of his loins a dukedom. Power, authority. His boy, when grown, would sit in the House of Lords. While he could never publicly boast about his child, while he’d be relegated to being an observer in his son’s life, deep down he’d know he was responsible for all his son would acquire and accomplish. His son would outrank the Earl of Elverton. But even that, Aiden wouldn’t be able to toss in the old goat’s face.

Crossing his arms over his chest, he turned and faced her. “You don’t think people will question the lad not looking like your deceased husband?”