Taking in a deep breath, he asked, “Am I to believe you?”
Her fingers slipped out of his grip. They stepped away from each other and bowed before coming together again. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep, my lord. The question is, do you?”
With his gaze locked on hers, he vowed, “I keep my word, Mrs. Feld.”
“If that is true, I will marry you. But first, you must prove you’re capable of becoming a proper gentleman.”
“That should be easy enough,” he murmured as they walked in a tight circle. He’d been properly trained in how to be a gentleman.
“Will it?” she asked.
That’s when Zane knew all wasn’t as it seemed.
“During the remaining weeks of the Season, you must give up wine, brandy, ale, and all spirits of any kind.”
Zane gave a little snort as he clasped both her hands possessively and they twirled under each other’s arms. “Most gentlemen have a drink or two each day,” he said as her fingers slipped from his grasp again, but not before he let his thumb trace up and down her wrist a couple of times. “If you’d rather I not, I’ll give it up for you.”
Surely, he could manage not to take a drink for a few weeks. He’d never had a reason not to but was certainhe could. Since that was all she was asking, it seemed a small price to pay for what he would get in the end.
“You must also give up cards, dice, and all forms of gambling and wagering of any kind and for any reason.”
Zane’s body stiffened. They continued to move through the painstaking steps of the complicated dance. Her courage was unbelievable. To even ask such a thing of an earl or any man was daring. Not only that—he’d just been invited to join the most sought-after card club in all of London. This demand wasn’t something he could take lightly.
He was finding out he couldn’t take her lightly either. The trouble was that he was falling for all of it.
“Again, Mrs. Feld,” he said from stiff lips, unable to suppress his disagreement in his tone. “Most gentlemen play cards, whether or not they gamble. It’s a way of life that’s not usually questioned.”
“But you do both to excess,” she informed him, lifting her chin, making it clear she wouldn’t give an inch on this point. “The wager you placed at White’s is proof of that. But if you aren’t willing to try, I’ll withdraw my offer.”
She was as cool as an early autumn morning. What she asked wouldn’t be easy. Yet. Everything about her was compelling. He considered once again what he would be giving up and what he would be getting in return.
“All right,” he finally said and could see from the tension around her eyes that she hadn’t expected him to agree to the second term of her agreement. Good. It was about time he got the upper hand in this matter, or at least caught up with her.
“You don’t think I can do it,” he offered.
“Maybe for a night but not until midnight of the last ball.”
What a lovely spitfire she was turning out to be. He’dheard she was a nurturer. She enjoyed helping people. Taking care of them. Apparently, that didn’t include him.
“And there will be no swearing or cursing.”
“What?” he snapped. “Blast it, Mrs. Feld,” he whispered, missing a step. The man next to him bumped his arm and gave him a foul look. Zane paid him no mind. His eyes were set only on his partner. “You go too far.”
“No, you did that.”
“Swearing is in a man’s nature and there’s no getting around it.”
Her expression became more determined than ever, and she leaned in toward him. “A well-educated gentleman such as yourself can find words to say other than swears, curses, and cusses whether he’s with men, ladies, or horses.”
Obviously, she could be fierce when she wanted to be. Zane bit back an oath and several vile bloody cuss words he wanted to say and simply ground out, “Fine. Consider it done. Are you finished now?”
“No,” she said as he lifted his arm for her to walk under.
“What more could there be? I refuse to be in church every Sunday morning. I go on Christmas Day like most respectable people and that’s enough.”
“No women.”
No women?
