“None at all.”
She made for the door, but his touch on her shoulder stopped her.
“Yes?”she asked.
“You have nowhere to go?”
“I havehereto go, my lord.”She shrugged away from his touch and made it another few steps toward the door.
“Miss Chester,” he called out.
She looked at him over her shoulder.“Yes?”
“Marry me?”
She laughed.“You are amusing, my lord.”
In two long steps he was right beside her once more.“I’m serious.I need a wife.And you need a home.”Hewasserious.Quite so.His stormy eyes had gone molten metal.“I think I was in more possession of my faculties that night at the ball than I first thought.”
“You were not.You were mad for me.And you’re mad now.”
“Some men need excuses to give in to their wildest impulses.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
The tiniest half smile, his white teeth flashing.“I’m entirely clearheaded now.Think of it as a business arrangement.”
She shook her head.“All the benefit would be on my end.”
“It would not.The king has demanded I wed, and I, as you well know, was not born to this title, this life.I need a woman who can help me navigate the ton.I would benefit more than you can know from a marriage with you.And”—he reached into the cave of his coat and found her hand in the warm darkness, brought it into the light and folded it between his own—“I would protect you.From your cousin.If you are married to me, you cannot be married to him.”
If that were her only problem, she might well be tempted to say yes.
“Marry me,” he repeated.
“Again?”she huffed.“A third time?”
“Well, that’s twice now you’ve refused to answer me.I suppose I’ll keep asking until I get a yes.Or a no.”
“No answer is an answer, my lord.”She pulled her hand from his, slipped his coat from her shoulders and handed it to him.Cold now.She missed the safety of that silk lining, of that high collar, of being wrapped tightly in the smell of the man—rich soil after a spring rain.
“No answer is a maybe.”
“You are wrong, my lord.”
He took his coat and leaned down to meet her gaze on a level field.“Do it, then, Miss Chester.Say one word.One syllable.Easy to shape with those pretty lips.No.”
“N—”
“Never mind.Do not do it.Let me court you.”He swept toward the door.“A fortnight.I’ll prove to you what a good idea it is.”
“Or…” And this was a good idea.“I’ll teach you in that time how to navigate the ton and you will not need a wife to help you.”
“I suppose so.But the king will still require it.And I have a feeling I’ll still want you.”
“Oh, you must be potion mad.”She pushed past him and into the stairwell.A man like him courting her?If she weren’t a dangerous anomaly, she’d be… breathlessly flattered.Precariously proud.And a little bit at risk for falling for his charms.
He followed closely behind.“I’ll return tomorrow.”
