“I can marry whoever I want now,” he brazenly said, crushing her a bit more.
“Bully for you. I hope you settle on a flighty ninny who makes you miserable forever.”
He was unfazed by her fit of pique. “The prospect worries me. I don’t have a parent to advise me in this arena, and it’s why I was relying so heavily on Charles to guide me.”
“Yes, and Charles thought Penny would be a stellar match for you, so I wouldn’t necessarily give him any medals for shrewd assessment.”
He snorted. “I’d persuaded myself that—since I lost out on Penny—I should once again seek out the perfect aristocratic girl.”
“Who would that be?” she snidely asked. “I can just imagine the type of paragon you’d relish.”
She squirmed away and walked to the dresser where there was a bottle of wine. She poured herself a glass and took a hefty drink, not because she was thirsty, but because she had to keep her hands busy so she didn’t strangle him with them.
Obviously, he had an issue he was anxious to get off his chest, and he wouldn’t leave until he had. He was too big for her to push him out, so there was no option but to hurry him along so he’d speak his piece, then go.
He was still leaned on the door and watching her as if she were a frightened rabbit. He was so annoyingly smug, as if he held all the cards. She’d like to bring him down a peg, but with his being such a haughty cretin, she had no idea how.
“I’m averse to scandal,” he said.
“Yes, yes, you’ve been abundantly clear on that subject.”
“My brother was such a wastrel, and I’m working hard to clean up my family’s name and reputation.”
“You couldn’t prove it by me,” she said. “You were ready to wed Penny, but have me as your mistress, which is a secret that always leaks out. It doesn’t sound to me as if you’re strolling down a moral path.”
“I heartily agree. It was mad for me to pursue you when I was about to betroth myself. With your notoriety being front and center, I couldn’t have concealed an affair.”
Yes, it had been mad, but it wounded her to have him admit it. Blithely, she retorted, “You were definitely out of control over me. It’s refreshing to see how quickly you’ve come to your senses.”
“I’ve been loafing at Barrett, feeling sorry for myself and focusing on how I like women who are modest, unassuming, and honorably inclined. I was actually writing lists of the attributes I would demand in the next candidate I courted.”
She’d never been modest or unassuming. By her growing up in the public eye, it had been impossible to acquire humble traits. She’d tried, but she’d rarely succeeded.
Her mood plummeted to the lowest level ever. Why didn’t he depart? Why continue torturing her? It was needlessly cruel.
“I’m sure a splendid bride is waiting for you out there,” she glumly said.
“I’m sure she is too,” he cheerily concurred, “but after I wrote those stupid lists, guess what I figured out?”
“What?”
“I don’t want a modest, unassuming wife. Are you joking? What would I do with a female like that? Now that I’ve met you, I’d throw myself off a cliff rather than wed someone so boring.”
At the bizarre comment, her jaw dropped in astonishment. “You’re not serious.”
“I don’t want an immature debutante. I don’t want an heiress whose only redeeming quality is her fat bank account. I don’t want an ordinary wife.”
He emphasized his point by stepping toward her until he was standing beside her. He yanked the wine glass away from her, downed the contents, then smacked the goblet onto the dresser. Then he trapped her against it.
Before she realized what he intended, he dipped down and kissed her fiercely. She hadn’t expected it, but her traitorous anatomy leapt into the fire. They carried on as if they were the last two people who would ever kiss, and the wild interlude sent shivers down her spine. She was instantly and gleefully prepared to debase herself in any mortifying way he requested.
Finally, she mustered the energy to stagger away, but she was so off balance that she had to grab the chair so she didn’t fall to the floor in a stunned heap.
“You can’t just barge in and kiss me!” she fumed.
“Really?” He was all innocence. “No one told me it wasn’t allowed.”
“I can’t dawdle while you brag about your pending nuptial exploits. You’re killing me with your stories about matrimony and the fiancée you’re about to pick. Go away! Please! Have mercy on me!”
He smirked with irritation. “You ridiculous creature! You’ve driven me insane, so I have no idea why I’m fussing with you, but I’ve decided—if I don’t resolve this with you—I might have to be locked in an asylum. You’ve left me that unhinged.”
“My condition isn’t any better. Why are you here? Will you spit it out and put me out of my misery?”
“I’m trying to inform you, but you keep interrupting. Will you listen for once?”
“I’m listening! I’m listening!”
Suddenly, without warning or preamble, he said, “I want to marry you Libby Carstairs or Henrietta Pendleton or whoever the bloody hell you are. I want to marry you!”
“You do not!” The words were out before she could swallow them down.
“I have to be clear with you, don’t I? I’m committed to making numerous personal concessions in order to have you. You’re magnificent and bewildering and the complete opposite of everything I told myself I sought in a bride, but after we’re wed, I will be the man of the family. I will wear the trousers. Not you! And you will not tell me what to think!”
She studied him, her penetrating gaze digging deep. He looked aggrieved, but very sincere too, and she stammered, “Are you . . . are you . . . proposing?”
“Yes, you daft shrew. Are your ears plugged?
