Compromised Miss by Anne O'Brien Page B

if you will. Is there a library or drawing room in this establishment that we can use?’
    Sir Wallace drew himself up to his most pompous. ‘I’ll not allow it. It’s not appropriate that you—’
    ‘Sir,’ the Earl interrupted bitingly, without finesse, ‘if I spent the night with Miss Lydyard behind locked doors as you imply, luring her into my bed and proceeding to destroy her reputation by the physical demands of my bodyon hers, five minutes in a library in the full light of morning will not make matters any the worse.’
    Harriette froze at the brutal description of what had not occurred. And for the length of a heartbeat wished that it had.
    ‘Five minutes, then.’ Sir Wallace allowed Harriette to pull her wrist away. ‘Take his lordship to the library, miss, and try to keep some sense in your stubborn head.’
    They descended the stairs, Harriette leading the way into a library as dusty and disused as the rest of the house, what furniture there was shrouded in Holland covers. The leather spines of the few books on the shelves were dull, clearly unread. Immediately the door was closed behind them, a swathed form of a sofa strategically positioned between them, Harriette swung round to face the Earl. Her eyes were clear and bright and very determined. She might have been proud of her earlier reticence, but she could remain silent no longer, even if it meant rejecting the heartstopping image painted in her mind by the Earl’s savage words.
    ‘There’s no need for this, my lord. I know what my brother is about. I’ll lay odds he didn’t suggest marriage until he heard you were an earl!’ She saw her sharp cynicism cause a slash of high colour along the Earl’s magnificent cheekbones—whether from anger at her brother’s presumption or disapproval of her lack of discretion she could not tell—but she would not simper and prevaricate.
    ‘I wouldn’t take your odds, Miss Lydyard. Sir Wallace certainly saw the opportunity.’
    ‘I’ll wager the Lydyard’s Ghost he did! To get me off his hands, and to gain a connection with a man of wealth and consequence.’ Harriette made no attempt to bury the bitterness. ‘My brother is nothing if not ambitious. And Ishould tell you, I won’t do it, just to further Wallace’s ambitions. Not even if you were the Prince Regent himself!’
    ‘Fortunately for both of us, I am not!’ the Earl responded, taken aback. What was the impression he had gained not ten minutes ago? Here was no innocent, vulnerable, gently reared girl, bullied by her brother. Here was a highly opinionated young woman actually refusing his offer of marriage. And with a forthrightness that, quite frankly, he resented. His lips thinned. ‘Would marriage to me be such an anathema, Miss Lydyard?’
    ‘That’s not the issue here. What possible advantage could there be for you in such a mésalliance ? I think you must be all about in your head to even consider it, my lord!’
    ‘The blow from a club might have rattled my senses as a temporary measure,’ he snapped back, ‘but I think I am sane enough.’ What possible advantage…? The kernel of an idea began to form in his mind. That such a marriage might just bring him a glimmer of light, an unforeseen advantage….
    ‘We know nothing about each other. How would I fit into your elevated social circle in London? I have no notion how to go on there. I have never been to London, not even further than Brighton. Why would you possibly wish to marry me? A beautiful debutante? No. A wife skilled in the social mores of London? Not that. A rich wife with powerful connections? Not that, either. So why? I am no fit wife for you.’ Harriette kept her voice unemotional, ignoring the weight of regret that lay on her heart. He would never know how difficult it was to reject him. ‘I am twenty-three years old, my lord!’
    ‘And I am thirty-four, if that is of any interest to anyone but myself.’
    She saw the flash of proud temper as she resisted