She took another large gulp of air, as though articulating this had taken all her energy. Although this declaration came as a surprise—and no small inconvenience—he had to admire her spirit in coming here at all.
He motioned to his armchair. “Sit,” he said curtly. “You seem out of sorts.”
Her fingers gripped her skirts. “Please, Your Grace. You must?—”
“Take a drink before you go.” He poured another Scotch and handed it to her, observing her again.
She truly looked like a work of art, as though fine hands had carved her in the image of Eve, the first woman.
The perfect woman.
If he were to marry her, she would no doubt prove a distraction. And one he was unwilling to countenance. Desire had no place in a marriage; she had one purpose and one only: to provide him with heirs.
Anything else would be a source of irritation.
“Please,” she said, looking at him through her lashes. “I know it is unfortunate timing, but?—”
“If you had so many objections to the match, my lady, you might have approached me before now to make such a request of me.”
Her eyes flashed. “If I had the ability, I would have done so, Your Grace.”
As much as he admired her spirit, he despised her presumption. “And what will you offer in exchange for requesting your father drop the marriage nearly on the day of the wedding?”
“Offer you?” Her hands crossed over her chest. “I have nothing to offer you.”
“Allow me to recapitulate, then.” He paused to think. “You require me, at significant personal cost, to extract myself from this wedding when it is not generally considered acceptable for a gentleman to break an engagement the very day of the wedding? And you expect me to do so out of the goodness of my heart?”
Long lashes fluttered over defiant chocolate eyes. “I had heard you had no heart, but this…cold-heartedness. Can you truly be so cruel?”
“Ah, so your true motive arrives. If you had heard such terrible things about me, it is a wonder you came all this way by yourself. Foolish too.” He nodded at the glass in her hands. “Drink that.”
“Why, so you might get me drunk?” Her eyes narrowed.
“So, you might be warmed and ready to venture back into his hellish night.” His temper snapped at its leash. He held it back with difficulty.
For all his irritation, he would not go ahead with this marriage if she were adamantly against it. Aside from his inconvenient attraction to her, he would not trap a woman in a loveless marriage if it were not of his choosing.
He may be a cold-hearted monster, but he was not that flavor of cruel.
“I have no intention of keeping you here,” he said, striding to the window. The books felt almost as though they glared at him.“And if you are so fixedly against the match, then I have no desire for an unwilling wife. You have spared yourself that, at least.”
A pause. Then a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
“In the future, I would recommend you do not travel alone to a gentleman’s house in the night.” He turned back to face her, noting as he did so the delicate way she sipped from the glass. “Not all gentlemen are as honorable as I.”
She made a slight choking sound but raised her head with what appeared to be a valiant effort. “Indeed not, Your Grace,” she said with some difficulty. “I shall keep this advice under consideration. But you see, I had no guarantee that I might get this message to you otherwise, as my father would not allow a letter written to you to pass the confines of our house.”
“And yet,” Maxwel said dryly, “you were able to find a way to leave the house yourself.”
Another delicious blush flooded her cheeks.
Yes, it was certainly a good thing that he would not marry her. The last thing he needed was a passionate, intense marriage, and she certainly stirred passion in him.
If he were a different man, and she were not a lady… He’d relish seeing more of that pretty flush of hers.
Fortunately, he was not a different kind of man, and she was a lady, and they were not to be married.
She finished the Scotch and placed the glass down. “Please do not tell my father that I came here.”
