“Nothing, really.” She shrugged. “But neither did it appear very appealing.”
“That’s because you don’t understand the pleasure to be had.”
He sounded completely bored now, and she had to keep from clenching her firsts in irritation. For someone she had long admired from afar, he was turning out to be a conceited ass. “Oh, yes. Forgive me for not seeing the fun to be had in riding someone around the parlor as if they were a pony.” She tapped her chin in consideration. “But now that you mention it, he was hung particularly well. Perhaps I should have offered my kiss to him instead.”
She waited to see if her bluff would work.
It did, but not in the way she’d hoped. “I wish you had so it would have saved me the trouble of being here this morning.”
She batted her lashes at him. “My, Your Grace. How you flatter with your charming words.”
He exhaled heavily. “Let’s cut the pretense, shall we? I’ll secure a special license to marry from the archbishop this morning and by tomorrow we can start our life of wedded bliss.” He started for the door.
It wasn’t until he’d passed her that she said, “Don’t bother, Your Grace, because I don’t intend on accepting your proposal, however lovely it might have been.” She offered him her most brilliant smile. “Now, if you will excuse me—”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he snapped. “Your grandfather already gave his consent.”
“Yes, he did.” She walked right up to him and lifted her chin. “But unless he wishes to haul me to the altar kicking and screaming, there will be no ceremony. Good day, Your Grace.” She backed away and swept out of the room without another glance back.
Chapter 4
Cortland had never had the misfortune of meeting such an irritating female in his life. If he had, he would have certainly taken care to steer clear of her.
He walked in the front door of White’s and barked an order for a glass of Scottish whisky. He had told himself not to drink any more of the stuff, but after the meeting he’d just had, he needed the fortitude to calm his temper.
Who was she to decline such a generous offer? He was the one making the sacrifice to ensure she didn’t suffer any ill treatment from attending his gala, and yet, she would make it appear as though he was the villain. Truly, she was the most ungrateful wench he’d had the discourtesy of ever meeting.
He tossed back the first dram of whisky and ordered another, and then a third, until he finally requested the entire bottle to be placed at his table. Hopefully, by the time he’d finished with it, he could get the sour taste of Lady Genevieve out of his system. No doubt the Duke of Cranbrook would support his suit and they could be done with this madness sooner, rather than later.
“Rough morning?”
Cortland glanced up and had to reach out a hand to steady himself, because the room abruptly began to spin. He narrowed his gaze and eventually, the Earl of Uxbridge’s face came into focus. “Ah. Join me. Join me.” He kicked out a chair in invitation and Griffin shook his head.
With a rueful smile, Uxbridge murmured in return, “Are you sure it’s safe?”
Cortland couldn’t help but bark out a laugh. “I can’t guarantee anything, old chap. Especially after this morning’s fiasco.”
“Do tell,” the earl said dryly, as the waiter came over bringing his usual port.
Leaning forward, as if imparting a great secret, Cortland spoke with a bleary-eyed stare. “I dared to try to do the right thing by the St. Giles chit, and do you know what she did?”
“I am all agog,” Griffin murmured.
“She declined my proposal of marriage when I was only doing it to salvage her reputation.”
Griffin snorted. “No doubt you approached her with your usual aplomb, so I can’t imagine why she refused you.”
Cortland pointed a finger at him. “Exactly my point! She should have been on her knees, grateful that I was making such a sacrifice on her behalf, but instead, she had the nerve to turn her back on me and walk out of the room! Can you believe that?”
“Indeed. It is difficult to imagine such a scenario.”
Cortland nodded his head, satisfied that someone could see how unreasonable the gel was being. “With a snap of her fingers, she could hold her own duchess title, and yet, she had walked away. I daresay I am finished with trying to do any further good deeds if this is how I am to be treated.”
“You mean, like a man who expects the lady to be grateful for your proposal?”
“Yes.” Cortland frowned, as his statement pierced the fog surrounding his pickled brain. “No. Wait. I’m confused. What are you saying?”
“Merely that you might have better luck with the lady if you tried a bit of courtship.”
