“I do.” She kept her voice firm. As firm as her intention to end the betrothal the moment Aylesford received Tyre Abbey. “There is nothing I like about Lord Aylesford at all.”
Except for his handsome face.
Those sensual lips.
The way he made her feel.
And she could not forget his bare chest.
But she banished all those thoughts, for she could not afford to entertain them. The sooner her betrothal was announced, the sooner she could be done with this silly scheme and with Viscount Aylesford both.
If the notion sent a tiny pang of remorse through her, she chose to ignore it.
Facing Mr. DevereauxWinter and asking to marry the man’s sister was rather a troublesome affair, Rand discovered. Perhaps it was because he had been seeking out Mr. Winter’s sister without the benefit of a chaperone. Mayhap it was because he had spent the previous evening imagining all manner of wickedness concerning her after she had left his bedchamber.
Or, it was because he had no intention of actually marrying Miss Grace Winter.
Either way, he was having a difficult time refraining from shifting in his seat as he met Mr. Winter’s gaze.
“You requested an audience with me, Lord Aylesford,” Mr. Winter said, his countenance unreadable.
Well, perhaps not entirely unreadable.Grimmight be one word Rand would choose to describe the fellow.Murderouswas another. Though Winter was a massive beast of a man, Rand was strong. He had well-hewn muscles and practiced boxing regularly at the famed Grey’s Boxing Salon in London. He could defend himself fairly enough in a match.
He cleared his throat. “Thank you for taking the time out of your hosting duties to meet with me, Mr. Winter.”
“Excusing myself from a game of Bullet Pudding is no hardship,” Mr. Winter said, unsmiling.
Christ.Rand had chosen his timing well, for he could not abide by most parlor games in general, but Bullet Pudding in particular. Anything that involved searching for a bullet in a pile of flour using only his face was not his idea of fun.
Still, to say as much would be unpardonably rude to his host and a slur upon his hostess, Lady Emilia Winter.
“Lady Emilia’s entertainments have proven remarkably diverting,” he offered politely. “I am sorry to be missing Bullet Pudding.”
Mr. Winter tapped his fingers on the polished surface of the massive desk in the Abingdon House study. “Spare me the ceremony, my lord. Get to the heart of the matter, if you please, but I must warn you that if you claim to want to wed any of my sisters, I will find myself hard-pressed to believe you.”
That revelation rather left Rand speechless for a moment.
He caught himself and carried onward. “I cannot fathom why, Mr. Winter. Your sisters are all ineffably lovely ladies. Any gentleman would be pleased to take one of them as his wife. Myself included.”
Mr. Winter’s lip curled. “Your reputation precedes you, however, Aylesford. You are a notorious rakehell.”
Devil take it.
He had not envisioned such outward hostility. Of course, he had never before asked for a lady’s hand in matrimony, either. He had never supposed he would, until Grandmother had decided to use her power over him as if he were a mongrel she must bring to heel.
“I am not a rakehell, Mr. Winter,” he defended himself. “Nor, surely, am I notorious.”
Mr. Winter eyed him dispassionately. “Do not argue with me, my lord. It will not aid your cause.”
He decided to try a different approach. “Mr. Winter, during the course of this house party, I have been charmed by Miss Grace Winter. I am determined to make her my wife, with your permission.”
“No,” said Mr. Winter flatly.
“No?” He sat up straighter, outrage stiffening every part of his body. “Mr. Winter, I am a viscount in my own right and the heir to the Duke of Revelstoke. What fault do you find with me?”
“There is much to find fault with from where I sit,” Mr. Winter told him, his lips compressed, jaw tight. “However, the reason I do not give you my immediate permission is that I must hear from Grace herself that this is what she wishes. Contrary to what some may believe of me, I am not simply seeking to obtain titles for my sisters. I am wishing to find them husbands who will care for them and who will lift them up rather than bring them low.”
“I am confident Miss Winter returns my feelings of deep esteem,” he said, wisely refraining from mentioning the reason for his confidence.
