“Oh, Nicholas.” Reggie laughed softly. “Am I supposed to call you a foul, despicable creature, and swear tearfully that I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man and so forth?”
Nicholas glared furiously. “You mock me, madame?”
“What makes you think that?”
She said this with such an innocent expression that he put his hands on her shoulders, ready to shake her. But her magnificent blue eyes widened in surprise as her own hands came up to brace against his chest, and Nicholas flushed red hot.
He stepped back from her, nearly trembling. “The press of time forces me to be blunt, Regina,” he said coldly. “I asked you before to end this farce of an engagement. I am asking you again. Nay, I am begging you. I do not want to marry you.”
She dropped her gaze, staring fixedly at the high polish of his Hessian boots. “You don’t want me…in any way then? Not even as a lover?”
His honey-gold eyes flashed at the turmoil the question caused, but he said only, “You would no doubt make a fine mistress.”
“But you are not interested?”
“Not any longer.”
She turned her back on him, her shoulders drooping, a dejected little figure. Nicholas had to restrain himself with every ounce of will from reaching out and gathering her into his arms. He wanted to take it all back, to show her what a lie it had been. But it was better for her to be disillusioned for a time, and then to forget him. He could not let this lovely woman marry a bastard.
“I really thought I could make you happy, Nicholas.” Her words floated to him over her shoulder.
“No woman can, love, not for any length of time.”
“I’m sorry then. I really am.”
He didn’t move. “Youwilljilt me then?”
“No.”
“No?” He stiffened, disbelieving. “What the devil do you mean?”
“The word no means—”
“I know what the bloody word means!”
She finally turned around. “You don’t have to shout at me, sir.”
“Formal again, are we?” he cried, his temper cresting.
“Under the circumstances, yes,” she answered curtly. “You have only to absent yourself from London next week. I assure you I am quite strong enough to bear up under the humiliation of being jilted.”
“I gave my word!” he exclaimed.
“Ah, yes, the word of a gentleman—who is a gentleman only when it suits him to be one.”
“My word is my bond.”
“Then you must stick to it, Lord Montieth.”
She started to walk away, but he caught her arm, his fingers hard. “Don’t do it, Regina,” he warned darkly. “You will regret it.”
“I already do,” was the whispered reply. It took him aback.
“Thenwhy?” he asked desperately.
“I—I must,” she replied.
He let go of her arm and stepped away, his face a mask of fury. “Damnation take you then! I will be no husband to you, this I swear. If you persist in this farce, then that is what you will have, a mockery of a marriage. I wish you happy.”
