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“Yes.” He moved to the bureau, if only to have something to look at that was not her face lit by firelight. “I will be at the archbishop’s office by mid-morning, and I’ll handle Penhurst after that.”

A short silence followed his pronouncement before she asked, tentatively, “How will you convince him to back down?”

Adam looked at her over his shoulder. “He will have no choice but to back down.”

Juliet smiled—a true smile that made him pause, his pulse kicking in his throat.

Oh.

Adam cleared his throat again, feeling his own face heating up. “Grieves,” he called toward the corridor, and his butler appeared almost immediately.

“Take Lady Juliet to the east room, please. Mrs. Priscilla has seen it is ready?”

“She has, Your Grace.” Grieves nodded somberly.

“Good.” He stepped back from the doorway to let the lady pass.

“Goodnight, Your Grace.” She bowed her head as she passed, and he nodded in turn.

She stopped just on the other side of the threshold, and turned again.

The candlelight in the hall fell differently on her than the fire had. It was less amber, and more direct. It threw the line of her cheekbones into a seductively soft curve that the parlor hadn’t provided.

“Thank you again. Truly,” she said.

“Goodnight, Lady Juliet,” he said, realizing distantly that his voice sounded strange to his own ear.

She held his gaze for far longer than was necessary. “Y—yes…of course,” she finally breathed and turned away.

Adam felt as though he’d been released from a spell.

Chapter Four

“You cannot be serious.” Penhurst’s laugh was short and incensed, though Adam could not possibly fathom why.

He had been in the room for eight minutes. He’d spent almost two hours riding down to this vapid man’s house, and he already wanted to leave.

Adam stared at the man with a straight face. He noticed there was a ring on the viscount’s right hand that he turned at intervals, a small unconscious movement of which Adam did not think he was aware. The room was designed to announce a man’s prosperity before he’d opened his mouth.

“Lady Juliet is my betrothed,” Penhurst continued. “Her father has given his full consent, and I hold a license, Your Grace⁠—”

“The wedding will not take place.”

“I heard you the first time, Your Grace,” the viscount replied, which made Adam raise an eyebrow.

Is he still confident enough to think that he can win this?

“What I am explaining is that the matter is already settled. Lady Juliet is a spirited young woman, and I know she has had some difficulty accepting the advantages of the match…” Penhurst continued. “She is young—and young women of spirit sometimes require time to come around to the sense of things.”

A slight smile spread his thin lips wide.

“She has clearly made an impression on you, Your Grace. I don’t blame her in the least. She is a very handsome creature. But she has a marked tendency toward the dramatic. If one considers the facts of the situation—” Penhurst spread his hands, “I am a man of very considerable means. A title holder. Well-regarded in commerce and in society. Her father understands the value of what is on the table, and I have every confidence that once she has had the opportunity to settle, she will come to understand it too.”

Adam looked at him for a moment, even as disgust churned in his stomach. The man genuinely believed he was presenting himself favorably. He was more of a fool than Clarkston.

“I do not care about your means,” Adam said as he moved to the writing desk, where he’d placed the document when he was shown in. He lifted it, crossed the room, and set it on the table between them. “I don’t care about your license, your arrangement with the earl, your assessment of Lady Juliet’s character, or your confidence in anything whatsoever. None of those things are relevant.”

Penhurst looked at the paper, his expression tightening at once. Then, he took it, and as he read the first lines, his hands started to tremble.