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Dominic rolled over on his back and repeated, “I was infuriated.”

Her silence did a good job of conveying incredulity.

“I don’t take ultimatums well,” he admitted. “My father was dictatorial, and I find it very difficult to obey commands.”

“I deliberately did not issue an ultimatum,” Torie said.

He tried again. “I have a temper.”

She snorted, reminding him of the Duchess of Huntington. “More people know of your temper than your former mistress—and she is known throughout polite society.”

“When I feel my temper slipping, I leave the room. It’s a hard and fast rule.”

She cast him a skeptical look. “May I remind you that you’re famous for bellowing insults in the House of Lords?”

“That doesn’t count. I must catch their attention, or they just wallow in complacency or fall asleep, especially after lunch. They serve too much port in the Lords dining room.”

Torie came up on her elbow. “You could have come back to me that evening, after you’d calmed down, and explained. Did you want me to jilt you?”

He glanced over and found her eyes narrowed. “No!”

“Poppycock. You did, didn’t you? Why didn’t you simply break the engagement?” Her eyes took on a bruised pansy color that he’d never seen before.

“I did want to marry you!”

She rolled to her back. “You should have been honest, Dom. You’re stuck with me now. I could be married to a duke, and you courting a docile lady.”

Fuck.

“I was afraid,” he said, the words coming roughly from his throat.

She didn’t look at him, but her lips shaped the word poppycock.

“I didn’t want you to jilt me, but I thought you had the right.” The words came deep and rough from his chest. “I was horrified to think that you were humiliated by my being with Gianna. That I had inflicted that pain. I’m not used to being wrong.”

She propped herself on her side again, close enough to him so that her legs almost touched his. “Hmmm.”

“I know you’ve been thinking about jilting me ever since you put that emerald on your finger. Half the time you don’t even wear it. Why do you think I paid the Duke of Queensberry to leave London? I wouldn’t have bothered if I wanted you to jilt me, would I?”

“Once again: Why not just tell me the truth?”

“I was about to tell you, but you interrupted me by announcing that you cheerfully would take a lover. After you left, I decided you had the right to jilt me at the altar. Your father’s wager seemed proof that you planned to.”

“Did you care?”

“God, yes.” The word was fierce. “I had made an ass of myself at Vauxhall, and I would have deserved it if you fled before the wedding or left me at the altar. But make no mistake, Torie: I would have come after you. Even before that night, I got rid of Queensberry to give myself time to persuade you.”

He paused, and then added for the sake of honesty, “Or seduce you, whatever it took.”

A knee nudged his leg. “You truly don’t have a mistress? Any mistress?”

“No. No one.” He took a deep breath. “I dismissed Gianna the night after we first spoke about her. I didn’t think twice about having a mistress when I spoke to Leonora about it.” He turned his head and met her eyes. “Then you told me that you would have kicked me out, and it made me rethink the kind of marriage I wanted. I gave Gianna enough money to return to Italy in style, which allowed her to snag the conte.”

A smile touched her lips. “I like that.”

“I thought you would.”

“You still should have told me earlier.”