poured over her, freezing her in place. She hadn’t said yes. Why would he announce an engagement she hadn’t agreed to? But she already knew. He’d done it to force James’s approval. If the engagement was announced, there was little James could do without humiliating her.
Daphne fought off a wave of nausea. Two years of making her wait, and he couldn’t wait five minutes for a proper answer? Nausea and shock slowly bled into anger.
Several guests gathered around them, gushing congratulations, asking for details about the wedding. Daphne smiled tightly and turned to Edward. “May I have a quick word with you?”
“Yes, of course.” He smiled and made excuses to the other guests, then led her to down the hall to a small parlor for privacy. His brows drew together in concern. “What is it?”
“What gives you the right to announce our engagement? I never said yes.”
He chuckled and threaded his arm around her waist. The intimate contact made her jerk back. “You want to say yes, Daphne. You’ve been trailing after me like a lovesick puppy for two years.”
A lovesick puppy!
Her anger ignited and she balled her hands into fists at her sides. “You’re mistaken, Lord Wallingford. I don’t wish to marry you. It was wrong of me to allow you to believe otherwise.” She forced herself to remain calm. “You must tell everyone this was all a horrid mistake.”
His eyes darkened. “It’s far too late for all that. The announcement has been made. To withdraw it now would invite scandal.”
Daphne pressed her lips together. Exactly his plan, she gathered. Marry him or live with the scandal of refusing his hand. “Why are you doing this?”
He smirked. “Come, Daphne, surely you must know. A woman like you couldn’t possibly ensnare a man of my station without the lure of ten thousand pounds.”
Mortification, anger, and heartbreak all swept over her at once. What she’d mistaken for love had actually been affection for her fortune, nothing more. His marked attention had come around the time James had not-so-discreetly leaked news of her dowry into high society. She’d always thought it was the idea of losing her to another man that had spurred Edward’s attentions, or perhaps that’s what she wanted to believe. But Ashton was right: if Edward loved her, he would have claimed her long ago. With the same determination Ashton had to claim her now.
“All you want is my money.”
He chuckled. “Is that any great surprise? Money and connections are what make marriages, Daphne. You’re a simple-minded romantic if you believe otherwise.”
There it was. That insult again. Ashton’s words echoed in her mind: You deserve far better than the likes of him , and for the first time, she believed him. Lifting her chin a notch, she glared at him. “Well, you can hunt down another dowry. I’m not marrying you.”
“Yes,” he said. “You are.”
When she took a step back, his hand darted out, grabbing her by the upper arm. His fingers bit into her skin painfully as she tried to jerk away. Her heart thudded hard against her ribs. “I will scream.”
He yanked her close, his face an inch from hers. “Try it.”
On instinct, she slapped him hard across the face, the sound echoing off the walls of the small room. His head whipped to the side and to her satisfaction a large, red handprint appeared high on his cheek.
He glared, hand raised, and she flinched, expecting a hard openhanded blow across the face.
“Do it,” a familiar voice drawled, “and you’ve killed yourself, Wallingford.” Daphne turned to see Ashton leaning against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. “Let her go.”
Edward glanced between Ashton and Daphne. He was shorter than Ashton, by a few inches, at least. If it came to blows, there would be no contest. “Why, so you can get a clear shot at me?”
Ashton shrugged, his gaze lingering on Daphne’s arm. “You’re going to have to pay for the bruise you’ve
Daphne fought off a wave of nausea. Two years of making her wait, and he couldn’t wait five minutes for a proper answer? Nausea and shock slowly bled into anger.
Several guests gathered around them, gushing congratulations, asking for details about the wedding. Daphne smiled tightly and turned to Edward. “May I have a quick word with you?”
“Yes, of course.” He smiled and made excuses to the other guests, then led her to down the hall to a small parlor for privacy. His brows drew together in concern. “What is it?”
“What gives you the right to announce our engagement? I never said yes.”
He chuckled and threaded his arm around her waist. The intimate contact made her jerk back. “You want to say yes, Daphne. You’ve been trailing after me like a lovesick puppy for two years.”
A lovesick puppy!
Her anger ignited and she balled her hands into fists at her sides. “You’re mistaken, Lord Wallingford. I don’t wish to marry you. It was wrong of me to allow you to believe otherwise.” She forced herself to remain calm. “You must tell everyone this was all a horrid mistake.”
His eyes darkened. “It’s far too late for all that. The announcement has been made. To withdraw it now would invite scandal.”
Daphne pressed her lips together. Exactly his plan, she gathered. Marry him or live with the scandal of refusing his hand. “Why are you doing this?”
He smirked. “Come, Daphne, surely you must know. A woman like you couldn’t possibly ensnare a man of my station without the lure of ten thousand pounds.”
Mortification, anger, and heartbreak all swept over her at once. What she’d mistaken for love had actually been affection for her fortune, nothing more. His marked attention had come around the time James had not-so-discreetly leaked news of her dowry into high society. She’d always thought it was the idea of losing her to another man that had spurred Edward’s attentions, or perhaps that’s what she wanted to believe. But Ashton was right: if Edward loved her, he would have claimed her long ago. With the same determination Ashton had to claim her now.
“All you want is my money.”
He chuckled. “Is that any great surprise? Money and connections are what make marriages, Daphne. You’re a simple-minded romantic if you believe otherwise.”
There it was. That insult again. Ashton’s words echoed in her mind: You deserve far better than the likes of him , and for the first time, she believed him. Lifting her chin a notch, she glared at him. “Well, you can hunt down another dowry. I’m not marrying you.”
“Yes,” he said. “You are.”
When she took a step back, his hand darted out, grabbing her by the upper arm. His fingers bit into her skin painfully as she tried to jerk away. Her heart thudded hard against her ribs. “I will scream.”
He yanked her close, his face an inch from hers. “Try it.”
On instinct, she slapped him hard across the face, the sound echoing off the walls of the small room. His head whipped to the side and to her satisfaction a large, red handprint appeared high on his cheek.
He glared, hand raised, and she flinched, expecting a hard openhanded blow across the face.
“Do it,” a familiar voice drawled, “and you’ve killed yourself, Wallingford.” Daphne turned to see Ashton leaning against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. “Let her go.”
Edward glanced between Ashton and Daphne. He was shorter than Ashton, by a few inches, at least. If it came to blows, there would be no contest. “Why, so you can get a clear shot at me?”
Ashton shrugged, his gaze lingering on Daphne’s arm. “You’re going to have to pay for the bruise you’ve
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