Heart's Debt (Lost Lords Book 5) by Cheryl Holt Page A

family, and all the servants were down in the lower parlors setting out food and cards.
    “Are you happy now?” he inquired.
    “No, I am not happy. I asked you previously, and I ask you again: What will it take to make you go away?”
    “You can’t make me go, Miss Fogarty. I am here to stay.”
    “Well then, aren’t I lucky?” she hissed.
    He walked over to her, and for a moment he figured she’d run away, but she didn’t. She glared, evidently assuming a fierce glower could dissuade him from mischief. He nearly rolled his eyes in exasperation. Women were strange creatures, and he never tried to understand them, but she seemed particularly asinine.
    Still though, he was fascinated by her. Perhaps it was simply the fact that she wasn’t afraid of him. Or if she was afraid, she refused to let it show.
    He stepped in until they were toe to toe, and an unusual energy sparked. Earlier he’d noticed it when she’d stormed into the estate agent’s office. Clearly their proximity charged the atmosphere, and he’d never felt anything like it. Was he attracted to her? A Marshall? Perish the thought!
    “The servants won’t come to your rescue. This is a house of idiots and cowards.”
    “They might come.”
    “They won’t. Desist with your fantasies.”
    He grabbed her wrist and tugged her into the room, a rude act that had her sputtering with affront. Before she could respond or scold, he slammed the door and spun the key so she couldn’t escape. No one would exit until he decided someone could. Most likely it would be himself after she’d aggravated him beyond his limit.
    “Unlock that door,” she said. “At once.”
    “No.”
    “Give me the key. I’ll unlock it.”
    “No.”
    “Are you planning to ravish me? Is that your ploy?”
    “I can’t abide innocent women, Miss Fogarty, so your virtue is safe with me.”
    “Safe? With you? I think not.”
    He shrugged. “Think what you will.”
    “Apparently you want something from me. Tell me what it is so we can move beyond it and get you out of here.”
    “I told you I don’t know why I’ve come.”
    “If you don’t know why, how am I to make you depart?”
    “I don’t believe you can.”
    “I’m not dressed, Mr. Drummond.”
    “No, you’re not.”
    “It’s obvious you’re not aware of manners and customs.”
    “I’m aware of a few.”
    “Let me remind you of one you’ve forgotten. It is not appropriate for you to visit a young lady’s bedchamber, and it is most especially not appropriate when that young lady is not dressed.”
    “Why aren’t you?”
    “Why aren’t I what?”
    “Dressed.”
    “In case you haven’t noticed, we have guests about to arrive.”
    “I noticed. I consented to your holding the party, remember?”
    “Yes, you’ve been extremely benevolent, and I need to get ready so would you please go? You’re making me late.”
    “You amuse me, Miss Fogarty. Have you any whiskey up here?”
    “Whiskey? No. Why would I have?”
    “How about wine?”
    “I’m not a secret tippler.”
    “Too bad. I could use a drink.”
    “Then head downstairs. The butler will be happy to pour you a glass.”
    “Maybe he and I could sneak down to the cellar and imbibe together.”
    “Maybe you could.”
    She stopped her tirade, studied him, then threw up her hands. “I’m busy, and I don’t have time to deal with you.”
    “Don’t let me keep you from doing whatever it is you’re doing.”
    “You can’t barge in as you have.”
    “You’re repeating yourself.”
    “You pretend to be deaf so I have to repeat myself. Go away.”
    “It’s my house.”
    “So you say.”
    “Yes, so I say.”
    “Just so you know, we’ve written to the magistrate to have you arrested. We’ve sent letters to our neighbors and to friends in town too. You’ll be taken into custody very soon.”
    “The letters were never sent. I have them all in my room.”
    “Why would you have them?”
    “Your messengers asked if I minded their being