“I was going to say—”
“And I shall be forced to choose between a man who smells of cabbage and collects his own toenail clippings,” she continued furiously, “or some aging earl whose last wife died of boredom and whose idea of passion is falling asleep during the marital act! Oh yes, that is my future. I shall be expected to lie back and think of England, while Lord Wretchington groans and wheezes and perspires over me in the dark!”
“I beg you to stop.”
“Oh, I have barely begun. And afterwards, I shall be handed a congratulatory cup of tea by a housemaid named Prudence and be expected to smile about his rotting seed inside me!”
“Lottie,” he said slowly, holding up a hand, “you are being—”
“If you sayhysterical,I swear to all that is holy—”
“Hysterical,” he said calmly, and dared to smile.
“Oh, you absolute bastard.”
He held up a finger. “Now, hear me out—”
She was already storming across the room, hands clenched into fists and hair falling from its pins in furious coils.
He backed towards the door, his eyes widening as if he had a terribly wicked idea. “Wait here.”
“What?”
“Do not move,” he said with maddening cheer. “Stay right there.”
“Jasper, I swear—”
He was already at the door, pulling it open. Before she could reach him, he stepped out, shut it again, and locked it. She heard the click and nearly screamed.
“Jasper Deverell! Unlock this door at once!”
“Give me five minutes,” came his voice from the other side. “Ten, if you insist on being difficult.”
“I am going to murder you!”
“You are going to thank me.”
“I will never!”
After a beat, clicked back again. “There,” he called. “It was tempting, but I value my life. Stay there anyway.”
The sound of his boots retreated down the corridor, as casual as if he were off to fetch a biscuit and not evading the wrath of an unchaperoned Tolliver at midnight.
Lottie paced once, twice, then caught sight of the writing desk and the mess upon it. Papers were strewn across the surface, but it was the fireplace that drew her, where a half-curled scrap of parchment had failed to burn entirely.
She hesitated, then, very slowly, she reached for it.
The paper was still warm to the touch. When she smoothed it open, she saw his handwriting, messy at the edges where his thoughts clearly outpaced his hand.
Charlotte,
You are, quite possibly, the most marvellous disaster I have ever invited into my life. And if I have any hope of surviving you—
Her heart was thudding again, but not with anger. Lottie read the line twice more. She could not help it.The most marvellous disaster…
She swallowed hard, suddenly unsure what to do with her hands, before folding the scrap gently—far more gently than such a phrase deserved—and tucked it into her cloak pocket.
“Marvellous disaster,” she muttered. “I ought to throw you out the window.”
