“But…Mary…” Gareth gasped. “I can’t marry Mary!”

One of his father’s bushy brows inched toward his hair-line. “You can, and you will.”

“But Father, she’s…she’s…”

“Simple?” the baron finished for him. He chuckled. “Won’t make a difference when she’s under you in bed. And you don’t have to have anything to do with her otherwise.” He walked toward his son until they were uncomfortably close. “All you need to do is show up at the church. Do you understand?”

Gareth said nothing. He didn’t do much of anything, either. It was all he could manage just to breathe.

He’d known Mary Winthrop his entire life. She was a year his elder, and their families’ estates had bordered on one another’s for over a century. They’d been playmates as young children, but it soon became apparent that Mary wasn’t quite right in the head. Gareth had remained her champion whenever he was in the district; he’d bloodied more than one bully who had thought to call her names or take advantage of her sweet and unassuming nature.

But he couldn’t marry her. She was like a child. It had to be a sin. And even if it wasn’t, he could never stomach it. How could she possibly understand what was meant to transpire between them as man and wife?

He could never bed her. Never.

Gareth just stared at his father, words failing him. For the first time in his life, he had no easy reply, no flip retort.

There were no words. Simply no words for such a moment.

“I see we understand each other,” the baron said, smiling at his son’s silence.

“No!” Gareth burst out, the single syllable ripping itself from his throat. “No! I can’t!”

His father’s eyes narrowed. “You’ll be there if I have to tie you up.”

“No!” He felt like he was choking, but somehow he got the words out. “Father, Mary is…Well, she’s a child. She’ll never be more than a child. You know that. I can’t marry her. It would be a sin.”