It was his turn to blink. She’d been telling him this all along. Surely, she didn’t really mean it?
He’d expected her to resist the notion, to argue with him and negotiate. He’d not expected her to refuse him outright.
“I would think that you, more than anyone, would see the benefits of securing a title for yourself.” He enunciated his words carefully.
“And why is that?” Her eyes narrowed.
“Because…” His eyes drifted to her bodice, which she’d not yet returned to rights. He cleared his throat, momentarily distracted.
“Do, please, take a moment to explain.” Diana’s sarcasm carried a nasty bite.
He pushed himself off the ground with a groan. He’d prefer not to spell it out for her, but since she did not seem to understand, he would make himself perfectly clear.
“You would realize this importance because of the circumstances surrounding your very existence—Because of who your mother was. Because ofwhatyour mother was. Don’t you think she would have been more content as Baroness Chaswick? If she’d been your father’s wife? Do you genuinely believe she preferred beingMrs. Jones,not only to him, but to the world?” It wasn’t even her real name. And as far as he knew, she’d never come close to being anyone’s missus.
“Have you met my brother’s mother? Have you spent more than a moment in her company?” Diana returned. “My mother, even in her weakest moments, finds joy in life. She has always been content knowing the man she loved returned the sentiment. In contrast, the dowager Chaswick has so separated herself from reality she believes Collette and I are her sister’s children. In the grief of her husband’s betrayal, she’s lost her sanity. Why would I ever choose a life such as that?”
Diana was breathing hard, her eyes bright, and the roses in her cheeks darkened in her argument.
“The Dowager baroness has never had to worry about having a roof over her head.” Greys didn’t mean for his words to come out in such clipped tones, but was she seriously trying to convince him she’d rather be a mistress than a marchioness?
“Neither has my mother,” Diana said. But they both knew she was lying.
Greys folded his arms across his chest. “Lady Chaswick’s existence has never been kept secret, and her child is the legitimate heir to his father. All your mother had was the delusion that a man who paid for her services loved her.”
Diana jerked backward as though he’d struck her. That delightful pink drained out of her face, leaving her complexion an almost startling white.
He was almost of a mind to take it all back, but he did not. They were words she needed to hear.
She stared at him as though he’d turned into some sort of monster. And then. “Stop,” she said. “I’ve heard enough.”
“Diana—”
“No more.” She stared straight ahead, not meeting his eyes now.
Diana herself had told him the late baron had not provided for his second family after his death. So she could not seriously believe she’d prefer to be a kept woman.
“I cannot take you to be my mistress.” He pointed out. “I will not.”
“We are in perfect agreement there.” She closed her eyes before opening them again to meet his gaze. “Because you and I are finished. Good day, My Lord.”
She swept around him, holding herself with the bearing of a queen, but before she could march away from him, a menacing but familiar voice sounded from behind her.
“What the hell is going on here?” Chaswick brushed forward, baring his teeth. In all the time Greys had known the man, the baron had never looked so furious.
Stunned by this sudden turn of events, Greys failed to see the fist that came flying out of the darkness.
He felt it, though. And the last thought he had as his knees gave out beneath him was that marriage proposals were not the walk in the park he’d imagined they would be.
