“Why don’t you drink it then? You should calm down. Wine might help to soothe your dour mood.”
“I don’t need wine to maneuver through this debacle.”
She was perched in front of him, but far enough away that he couldn’t reach for her. He studied her, liking her state of dishabille, how the robe was loosely belted. She was sufficiently concealed by fabric that it wasn’t exactly risqué, but then, it was extremely risqué too.
“I don’t understand why you’re so angry,” he said.
“You wouldn’t. You’re rich and spoiled, so you presume you can wallow in any sort of wicked behavior.”
“I’m merely attending a house party—as are you.”
“When we parted in London, you told me you had business in the country.”
“I did. I do.”
“You told me you were having problems at your estate.”
“I am having problems there, and I’ve been dealing with them.”
“And now, you’re here at Roland and about to get engaged.”
He frowned. “Could we stop talking about it?”
“No. Tell me why you picked her. I’m disgustingly curious. She’s so much younger than you are. What could you possibly have in common?”
He hemmed and hawed, nearly refused to clarify his motives, then he said, “Her father approached me about it. My property adjoins his. She has a fine dowry, and I’ve known Lord Roland all my life. It’s a good match for me.”
“What’s in her dowry? Will she bring you large tracts of land? Will she deliver money too? A lot of money?”
“Ah . . . yes.”
His cheeks flushed—as if with chagrin—so apparently he was capable of some shame.
“If I hadn’t stumbled on you,” Libby said, “would you ever have confided in me about your betrothal?”
He shrugged. “Probably not.”
“You’d have let me read about it in the newspapers?”
“I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”
“With you likely to wed Lady Penny, what was it you envisioned happening between us?”
“Don’t refer to it in the past tense. We should have a long, satisfying affair, and I fail to see why my pondering matrimony has to change that situation. My relationship with you would be completely separate from my relationship with Penny.”
She scoffed with fury. “That just might be the most cold-blooded comment ever uttered in my presence.”
“It’s the reality that’s vexing me.”
“If I jumped into an amour with you, then you wed Lady Penny, you’d be committing adultery.”
He sighed. “Yes, I guess I would be.”
“Have you the slightest notion how awful that sounds to me?”
“Well, what do you envision happening between us? You couldn’t have believed we would wind up married. You’re not a foolish, starry-eyed girl, so you’re aware of how the world works. A man of my station never marries a woman of yours.”
It was a true statement, but a callous one that wounded her.
She could have argued with him, could have insisted she was precisely the female he needed as his wife. Yes, Penelope Pendleton could bring him money and land, but Libby could have brought other things: joy, excitement, friendship. Even love eventually.
Yet as she tabulated the mental list, she chided herself for being ridiculous. She didn’t want to ever be a bride, didn’t want to be his bride. So why was she so upset? It made no sense.
“You’re correct,” she agreed. “A man of your station always selects a candidate who is much richer and grander than me.”
“Don’t denigrate yourself. I think you’re magnificent, but there are only certain ways you and I can be together. I’ve told you what they are. I’m bound to wed as high as I’m able, and I fully intend to do that. But in the meantime, why shouldn’t we be happy?”
“You would be happy in such a sordid arrangement, but I never could be.”
“You haven’t considered the benefits an affair could deliver.”
“There could be no benefit,” she vehemently said.
“Are you sure about that? Wouldn’t you like to be happy too?”
At the question, she was taken aback, and her initial reaction was to proclaim that she’d always been plenty happy, but that was a lie.
From the period when she was tiny and had suffered her string of tragedies, there had been a huge cloud of despondency hanging over her. With what she’d endured as a small child, then with conniving Uncle Harry glomming onto her, there’d been no chance for her to grow up perky and vivacious.
She was charismatic and flamboyant, but she practiced constantly to exhibit those traits, and she couldn’t honestly state that she’d ever been happy. She wasn’t about to debate the point with him though.
“Give me the key to the door,” she said.
“No. We’re not done discussing this.”
“Yes, we are. I’ve probed your opinion about Lady Penny, matrimony, and adultery. Much to my dismay, you are not faithful or loyal, and it indicates you’re not a person I could ever respect or esteem.”
She wasn’t behaving as he’d expected, and he was becoming annoyed. “You’re not listening to me.”
“I’m listening, and I’ve heard every word. You’re about to betroth yourself to Lady Penny. If you ultimately decide not to proceed, you’ll pick someone else just like her. You’ll be engaged very soon.”
“I suppose I will be,” he bluntly said. “I’m thirty this year. I have to get on with it.”
“But I don’t have to watch.”
Events at Roland were occurring at lightning speed, and she couldn’t keep up. If he wed Lady Penny, it would kill her with regret and remorse. She didn’t usually rue the past. She couldn’t alter or fix it, but why should Penelope Pendleton be allowed to marry him, but not Libby?
Why had Fate pushed Libby so far out of the proper path that she could never be an appropriate bride for a man like him?
He scowled quite violently. “Why are you being so aggravating? You’re acting as if I made promises and broke them. We’ve merely shared a few torrid kisses, and I’d like to share a few more. I’ve explained the circumstances by which it can happen.”
“I’m asking myself the very same question: Why am I so aggravated? I have no idea, and I concur. We shared
