“And that makes you want to marry me?”
He laughed. “It is of more value than some conformable creature who will behave perfectly and drive me to the point of unutterable tedium. That, you know, is why I have resisted all Angelica’s efforts to plant on me whatever creature she happens to think suitable.”
Felicity pounced on this. “She won’t think me suitable. She knows everything.”
His brows rose. “What gives you the idea I care tuppence for Angelica’s opinion? Besides, she likes you.”
“That is beside the point.”
“I agree. What matters is that I like you.”
Felicity’s temper rose again. “Indeed? What I like has no bearing on the case, I take it?”
“Don’t be ridiculous!”
“It’s not ridiculous! What matters is whether you like me? I’ve never heard such arrogance. As if your wishes are paramount!”
“Well, they are.” His voice was a snap. “You could hardly propose to me, could you? And in my position —”
“Thank you, I understand your position, Raoul. You are a marquis. You can’t marry just anybody. You’ve already said so. Well, I am nobody and I prefer to stay that way.”
“Then you’re a very silly girl! Improvident too. Have you forgotten that until a day ago, you were penniless and wholly dependent on my charity?”
In one swift movement, Felicity was up, heading for the door, too furious to think what she was doing. It opened before she could reach it and one of the ceremonial processions of servants entered with the tea.
Veering off, she crossed to the nearest picture on the wall and stared at it, blinking back tears and struggling to contain the sobs choking in her throat, her thoughts chaotic.
How could he taunt her? How dared he use her poverty against her? Did he think that would make her yield? Stupid, arrogant man! How she hated him! She must leave here at once. Not one night would she remain in this terrible museum of a house. With its monster of a master! Marry him? She would rather throw herself in the lake!
The clink of crockery and murmurings of the servants began to penetrate. She recalled that Raoul was still in the room. What was he doing? She was not going to look. Then he spoke.
“That will do. You may leave now.”
There was an edge to his voice that cut through Felicity. She felt quite sick, dreading the exit of the servants. She heard the door close and a hasty footstep behind her. His hands were on her shoulders and she turned perforce at his urging and looked up.
He was pale, his face taut. “Felicity…” His eyes appeared to burn with something she did not recognise. His finger came up and brushed gently under her eyes. “Don’t weep! Forgive me. I should not have said that. It was cruel of me. I didn’t mean it.”
She could not speak. There was a tender note to his voice that struck at her heart. Realisation crept into her mind and the secret longing she had not recognised took form. God help her, but she had fallen in love with Raoul! At once she knew why she was resisting his truly very flattering offer and the words escaped without will.
“You are proposing a marriage of convenience.”
His hands dropped from her shoulders and his face changed. “Yes, of course. Did you suppose it could be anything else? One cannot command affection at will, I realise that.”
But one could slide irrevocably into it without will or realisation. Felicity did not say it. She had no words. Deflection was all that was left. “I would like that tea now, if it is not too much trouble.”
Without a word, he crossed to the table which had been opened out, the tea kettle, steaming now, placed upon it along with the rest of the accoutrements required for the beverage. Someone had evidently made the tea already. Felicity watched him pour, all too aware now of why his movements had that disturbing effect upon her.
She crossed to one of the chairs that had been set near the table and sat down.
“Cream and sugar?”
His very voice set her trembling, the words too ordinary for her to bear. She hardly knew what words she wanted to hear — but cream and sugar?
“I will take it with one lump of sugar, if you please.”
He obliged and passed her the cup. She stirred absently, watching him pour his own, which he took without either addition. He sat on the other chair and drank without looking at her.
Felicity’s gaze devoured him, as if she saw his features anew. He looked abstracted, frowning. She wanted to smooth the frown with her finger. She wanted to tell him he had already commanded her affection without even trying. She wanted…
