“And you think I should just give it to you.”
“I could pay you for it.”
Her head tipped to the side. Nothing in her demeanor said he’d gained an inch of ground, as she didn’t appear at all motivated by his offer of money. “What’s so special about this ring?”
She held the whip hand—and she knew it.
He was going to have to tell her the significance of the ring. “The ring belonged—belongs—to my father.”
She scrunched back into her corner and considered him for a long, uncomfortable moment. “And you gambled it away?” It was a question—but only technically.
Just one answer to that question would suffice… “Yes.”
Her head tipped to the other side. “You’re a nob. Can’t you buy him another ring?”
“It’s his signet ring.”
“Signet ring?”
“The sort of ring passed down from father to son.”
“So, your pa gave it to you, then?”
“It would’ve gone to my eldest brother.”
Rhys was leaving a great deal unsaid between the lines here, but this woman looked as if she heard every last unspoken word loud and clear—he’d taken the ring without permission, then lost it in a card game.
Like any wastrel lord would.
He saw no option but to divulge yet more information. “My father is an earl.”
A faint, possibly cynical smile curved the blonde’s mouth, then she whistled. “So, you’re a right, proper nob, then.”
“Proper might be shooting wide of the mark.”
A knowing glint shone in her eyes that Rhys didn’t like. That glint said she’d seen his type—the wastrel lord—and didn’t think much of him.
He cleared his throat and aimed for authoritative with his next words. “So, it would be best if you and I came to terms, and you returned the ring.”
The reality of the words emerged altogether differently from his intent. He’d been aiming for authoritative, but what hit the air sounded distinctly…entitled.
And within that note of entitlement lay an implication of class imbalance and of the power of an earldom and, for that matter, the entire English aristocracy at his back.
Again, her mouth curved into a little smile, this one, however, holding no trace of humor. She didn’t flinch when she said, “Would it now?”
Immediately, Rhys saw his mistake.
And he saw it was too late to right it.
5
Tilly had awakened this morning at her usual time thinking today would be an ordinary day like any other.
Only much better, as it was December and the Christmas season was now fully upon them. She adored Christmas—the anticipation…the merriment…the food…the gifts. Now, she enjoyed receiving a gift as much as the next person, but what she loved most was observing her folk through the year and finding the perfect gifts for them.
So, today was to have been split between lady’s-maid errands on Old Bond Street and picking up gifts in Burlington Arcade that she’d ordered special.
The point was she’d had a fun day ahead of her.
