“No one knows what we did,” she pointed out. “Ergo, no harm done.”
“You know, and I know. As a gentleman, I must abide by my conscience. And my honor dictates that, since I divested you of your virginity, I must offer you my name.”
“Will you please stop talking about my dashed virginity?”
He raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize the subject offended you.”
Her head felt like a corked champagne bottle that had been thoroughly shaken. “You made me an offer, and I don’t accept. Let us leave it at that. Your obligation is fulfilled.”
“The circumstances are regrettable. But as I said at the masquerade, you could never be an obligation, angel.” He cocked his head. “Why won’t you consider my proposal?”
Good God, where would she begin?
“Clearly, we,”—she flicked her fingers at him, then herself—“are not a match.”
He regarded her steadily. “Why?”
He wanted to make her spell it out? Her cork popped.So be it.
“You’re an Adonis. In the eyes of society, I’m hideously scarred.” She was proud of how matter-of-fact she sounded; the truth couldn’t hurt her if she didn’t let it. “We’re as mismatched as two people could ever be.”
A crease deepened between his brows. “You cannot be serious.”
“I see things as they are, sir. Of course, I’m serious.”
“Then you’re also deluded,” he said brusquely.
She bristled. “I beg your pardon?”
“When I first saw your scar, I was surprised.” His tone was as no-nonsense as hers. “But it’s just a scar. It doesn’t change the fact that you’re a singularly beautiful woman.”
Just a scar?she thought incredulously.He has to be lying.
The memory flashed. Six months after her injury, her parents had forced her to attend an intimate soiree hosted by her then-fiancé the Duke of Croydon. She’d been looking for Croydon in the garden when she overheard him and Arabella, whom she’d believed to be her friend, having a whispered conversation on the other side of the hedge.
“She used to be so beautiful. Perfect.” Croydon’s voice had been hoarse, ravaged. “To look at her now…”
“You cannot blame yourself,” Arabella’s silvery tones had replied. “It’s difficult to see what Lady Beatrice has become. You’ve been very honorable to stand by her side when everyone has been calling her Lady Beastly.”
Lady Beastly.The name no longer felt like a javelin to the heart but the twinge of an old injury. The last thing Bea needed was to re-open the wound.
She faced Murray. “You strike me as a man of the world. As such, you ought to understand that society judges a woman’s worth by her beauty. When her looks are damaged, she has as much value as a cracked vase or a torn painting and might as well be relegated to the rubbish heap.”
“Surely you are not classifying yourself asgarbage?” He sounded incredulous.
“Of course I’m not. That is society’s belief, not mine.” She gave him a scathing look. “Being rich, I have the privilege of deciding my own destiny, and I have no intention of accepting proposals motivated by pity.”
“I don’t pity you,” he said with a hint of impatience.
“Please.” She didn’t fight the urge to roll her eyes. “A man like you would be interested in a woman like me?”
“Well…yes.”
His voice deepened, causing a ruffling up her spine. Seeing the flare in his hazel eyes, she acted on instinct, retreating as he followed her step for step. Her spine collided with something—the fence. He didn’t touch her, his spice-tinged nearness setting off thrills of panic.
“I proved my interest during our night together. Several times,” he said in a dangerous growl.
Her bosom rose and fell in rapid surges, mere inches away from his chest. What he was suggesting…she knew it was not possible. Maybe once upon a time, but not now. A man like him could have any woman; why would he choose one who would forever be shunned by society? Who would make him a laughingstock?
