“If you want me to trust you, then I’ll have to know your source,” she said coldly.
Ransom sipped his wine. “Not that it matters, but it was the Earl of Ruthven.”
Tessa recalled the green-eyed aristocrat who’d been kind to her at Ransom’s ball.
“He saw Kent, thought he looked familiar,” the duke continued, “and when he saw you with Kent’s sisters, he recalled the scandal concerning the younger brother. He put two and two together and recognized Harry Kent. Then he saw you and Kent sneak off to the library alone. As a concerned guest, he thought it best to inform the host of what he’d seen.”
“But how did he know that Kent was working for the police?” she persisted.
“Ruthven didn’t discover that fact; I did. After learning that Kent was lying about his identity, I hired an investigator to look into him,” Ransom said matter-of-factly. “It took less than a day; the investigator had a source on the police force who identified Kent as a new constable. He also provided a report on Kent’s family, including their countrified origins. Indeed, he was watching you when you and Kent took off from London. He guessed where you were headed; that is how I knew where to find you.”
Her head spun. “You had someonespyon me?”
“I had to keep up with the competition.” Ransom drained his glass of blood-red wine. “Now finish your supper. You’ll want to be rested for our big day tomorrow.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“I’ll have something else made up for you.” He nodded at a footman, who came forward to take her plate.
Stubbornly, she held onto it. “I’ll take it up to Swift Nick. He hasn’t eaten all day.”
“Yes. About that weasel.”
The distaste that flavored Ransom’s voice set her teeth further on edge.
“Swift Nick is aferret,” she said.
“I don’t care what he is so long as he stops baring those fangs at me. Perhaps you’d consider a more docile pet? Thanks to the Queen, spaniels are all the rage.”
It was the last straw. Asifshe would ever give up Swift Nick!
“If you wish for a docile pet or wife,” she said pointedly, “you are bound for disappointment.”
“I have no wish for a docile wife.” Ransom cocked a brow. “At least not in bed.”
His insinuation turned her insides cold. This was all wrong. She couldn’t marry this man.
Now that she was thinking more clearly, she could see her options. She would find another way to rescue her grandfather. She and Mama would put their heads together; the House of Black looked after its own. She didn’t need the help of Ransom—or any man.
I need to be rid of this blighter. To get out of here.The easiest way to accomplish her goals was to havehimcall off the wedding.
“On the topic of marriage,” she said boldly, “you may wish to know that I am not a virgin.”
She blocked out the memories of how she’d lost her innocence. All that mattered was dissuading Ransom from marrying her. Everyone knew that men valued purity in their wives.
“Another trait we have in common.” He forked a morsel of fowl.
“That’s it?” she burst out. “Don’t you evencarethat I’ve shared a bed with another man?”
“As long as you don’t come to me encumbered.” He sliced a spear of asparagus into equal lengths. “Even then, I could always pass the brat off as my own.”
What kind of manwasthis?
She shot to her feet. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m not marrying you.”
He rose, depositing his napkin on the table. “To avoid a tedious scene, let me make myself clear.” Although his tone was mild, his features were hard. “This is not a trip to the modiste; you cannot change your mind about this gown or that. We are getting married on the morrow. The experience can be pleasant—or less so. Either way, it is happening.”
“You cannot keep me here,” she bit out. “That’skidnapping.”
