“I’m sorry for your trouble, my lord, but despite what you told Lord Barnaby, I didn’t either ask or expect you to come here, nor was I in any great need of your company.”
It was as crushing a speech as she’d ever dared deliver, but he only laughed. “Well, you can’t suppose I came all the way to Oxfordshire for Cross’s company, eh? No, indeed. It’s time you and I discuss the unfinished business between us, and come to an understanding.”
“Forgive me, my lord, but I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Nor did she choose to discuss whatever it wasnow, in a darkened stairway at midnight, without another soul in sight.
“No? Thatisa great pity, my dear, but I’m rather, ah… eager to come to an agreement. I thought I’d been plain regarding my intentions toward you, but you slipped through my fingers before I could declare myself, you wicked girl.”
Wicked girl?For pity’s sake. “I don’t have the pleasure of understanding you, Lord Boggs.”
“I think you understand me very well, Miss Templeton. I’ve been enamored of you from the moment I laid eyes on you, and I wish to make you mine.”
His? Dear God, what an appalling thought.
Yet, was she really in any position to scorn such an offer? If Lord Melrose was back in London, as Lord Boggs claimed he was, Emmeline may have already refused him. If so, then her family’s situation remained as dire as it had been before she and Emmeline ventured to London for the season. Worse, in fact, now they had a fresh scandal hanging over their heads.
All their worries would vanish if she made such an advantageous marriage.
Lord Boggs, though! She didn’t love him, would never love him, and despite his flowery speech about being enamored of her, he didn’t love her, either.
A marriage between them would be… how had Miles once put it?
An exchange of favors.
She wished to save her family from destitution, and he wanted a young bride with a pretty face to wear on his arm—a mere trinket, nothing more—and a marriage between them would mean a lifetime of being at the mercy of his every whim.
The very idea made a shudder of revulsion dart up her spine, but since her father’s death, her life was no longer about what shewanted. Helena had already gone out to work. Soon enough, they’d all be obliged to go into service. They’d lose Hambleden House, and would only rarely see each other then.
Wasn’t it time she gave up the girlish hopes she’d been foolish enough to cherish at one time? She was no longer a child, and this wasn’t a romantic novel destined for a happy ending.
Yet it wasn’t a tragedy, either.
She squared her shoulders, and met his smug gaze. “I thank you most sincerely for the great honor you do me, my lord, but I cannot accept—”
“Honor?” He stared at her, then threw his head back in a laugh. “Oh no, my dear! I’m afraid you’ve misunderstood me. A marriage between us is quite out of the question. Your scandal put an end to any plans I may have had of making you a countess. No, I’ve another arrangement in mind.”
Arrangement? What did he mean, anarrangement? What other arrangement was there, aside from—
Oh, dear God. DearGod, was he asking her to become hismistress?
“Need I remind you of your pitiable circumstances, my dear? Your family is a scandal, your coffers are empty, and your reputation is in tatters. Melrose isn’t going to save you, and you have nothing but your pretty face to fall back on. I’m prepared to be quite generous if you please me, so think carefully before you refuse my—”
“Howdareyou?”
She didn’tplanit, or even realize she’d done it until his head snapped back, and then her palm was stinging like it had caught fire, and his face was turning red, then redder still—
“How dareI?” He seized her arm, a curse on his lips, and jerked it behind her back. “You’re a bloody little tease.”
“Release me this in—”
“You’ve been tormenting me forweeks.” He wrenched her closer, his fingers biting into her flesh. “You’re a slippery little bit, but I have you now.” His face was a mere inch from hers, the stench of cigars and port on his breath. “Now be a good girl, and do as I say.”
He wrenched her off her feet as if she weighed no more than a feather, the toes of her slippers dragging silently over the thick carpet as he pulled her from the landing into the dark hallway beyond.
“Let go!” A scream was building in her throat, but before she could give it voice, he slapped a hand over her mouth. “Quiet,” he hissed, his other hand fumbling with her bodice.
Her stomach lurched, and bile flooded her throat, hot and acrid, choking her, and she couldn’t breathe… she couldn’tbreathe—
“Umph.” There was a gasp or a grunt, low and pained in her ear, and in the next breath the grabbing hands were gone, and she was swaying on shaking legs in the middle of the dim hallway, and Lord Boggs was at her feet, doubled over and holding his stomach.
