This visit was not turning out as he had expected.
“May I take your hat, gloves, and coat—that is, unless you’ve changed your mind and need to leave?” She held out her hand to him, palm up. “No doubt a gentleman such as yourself must be quite busy.”
Miss Prim was still talking nicely, though he knew there wasn’t an ounce of sweetness in it. It was as if she could see his reluctance to stay and was feeling quite sure she was going to win and send him running from the house with his coattails flapping in the rain.
And once again, he was very tempted.
But Bray hesitated. He didn’t want to become involved with such a strange household of females. He was no nanny, and he certainly wasn’t a keeper of innocents.
The first sour notes on the pianoforte sounded, sending a shiver up his spine, and for a moment, he thought Miss Prim had the victory, too. But then the fighting spirit rose up in him, and—much to her regret, he was sure—he handed her his damp hat.
That wiped the victory off her face rather quickly and put one on his. He pulled on the fingers of his gloves and asked, “Do you not have a servant to attend to the door?”
“Not at the present,” she said defensively.
That was odd.
He thought about asking why but the determined set of her full, lusty lips and frown told him she didn’t care much for him questioning her. He handed her his gloves and then removed his sodden coat and gave her that as well.
She laid them on a side table and said, “This way, Your Grace.”
As he walked behind her, he saw that she kept her shoulders stiff and her back straight, but that posture didn’t keep her long tresses from sweeping lightly across her shoulders and making him wonder how the soft waves of her hair would feel against his bare chest. But her thoughts clearly were not in the direction of his. He had the feeling that, just in case he was still unsure about her, she wanted to make damn sure he knew she was not happy he was there.
He wondered if he should tell her he wasn’t keen on it either.
The drawing room was a respectable size, and thankfully the pianoforte was on the far wall in front of a window. Miss Lillian looked up at him when he walked in and promptly lost her place on the ivories and made a devil of a mess of the tune.
“Please sit down,” Miss Prim said coolly.
She could hold a gaze steadier than most men. “Only after you,” he said.
“If you insist.” She took a seat on the edge of the settee.
Bray made himself comfortable on a green upholstered armchair opposite the small wide-striped sofa, looked at Miss Prim, and said, “Your sisters are rather—”
“I don’t believe you came here to talk about my sisters, Your Grace,” she said, interrupting him without a hint of apology. “Why don’t you save us both time and get to the reason you’re here?”
Miss Prim had cut him off without blinking an eye as if he were behaving like an errant schoolboy. Her demanding tone set his teeth on edge, and the silence between them made it easy for him to hear haltingly played notes that didn’t resemble any score he’d ever heard. She had no respect for his title, forcing him to listen to the poorly played melody and not even letting him finish his sentence. It was hard to believe that this rigid young lady before him now was the same one who had been frolicking through the house with such vigor and happiness only a few minutes ago.
But she didn’t know that Bray didn’t mind ladies with spirit; he welcomed them. A wayward grin lifted the corners of his mouth again. No innocent young lady had ever had the nerve to openly test him, and it appeared Miss Prim was just itching to be the first. Oddly, he felt like laughing, perhaps in relief, perhaps at the thought of this young lady standing up to him. Either way, if he had to marry, the idea of marrying her didn’t seem so dreadful.
“You’re right,” he finally said. “I didn’t come to discuss your sisters. I came to talk about you and me.”
She shook her head slowly. “That won’t happen. ‘You and me’ would imply there is anusand there is nousto talk about.”
He gave a short laugh. “But there is, Miss Prim. I never heard back from you on my offer of marriage.”
Her shoulders relaxed a little for the first time since hearing his name. “I have not received an offer of marriage from you or anyone else.”
“Really?” That was odd. “I know it was a long time ago, but I know my messenger said he delivered my letter directly into your hands.”
A deliberate fake surprise brightened her features. “Oh, you’re referring to the admission-of-guilt letter you had delivered to me a couple of years ago? That was hardly a proposal, Your Grace. And it wasn’t even a halfway decent condolence message. It was an insult, and I dealt with it as such by tossing it in the fire.”
His mood darkened. “You don’t mince words, do you, Miss Prim?”
“I see no reason to.” She rose. “I will further not mince words by adding that we have nothing else to say to each other. I’ll show you out.”
She walked to the doorway without looking back, as if she expected him to obey her orders as quickly as her sisters had. When it was clear to her he hadn’t, she turned to him. Bray kept his seat, calmly watching her. He didn’t care for the notion that she thought she’d gotten the best of him. He’d prove to her he hadn’t by staying a little longer.
