Jo Beverley - [Rogue ] by An Unwilling Bride Page B

quailed. She had never been treated so in her life.
    Lord Arden, however, appeared oblivious to the man as he added, "And if you will not make any effort to consider my feelings, then I perhaps will see no reason to consider yours."
    Shocked back into consideration of her main problem, Beth stared at her husband-to-be.
    "Truce?" he asked.
    That wasn't what Beth wanted at all. "Am I never to say what I think?"
    "It depends, I suppose, if you want me to say what I think."
    All too aware of the host, still bobbing and bowing, Beth carried on into the private parlor. When they were alone she challenged him. "Why would I not wish you to speak your mind? I am not afraid of the truth."
    He shrugged off his riding cloak and dropped it over a chair. "Very well," he said coldly. "I find you unattractive and this whole situation abominable. Now, how does that help?"
    "Since I already knew that," she shot back, "it hardly changes matters at all." But it did. Beth was foolishly hurt by the very disgust she was seeking. And if the situation was abominable, why was he tolerating it?
    He was leaning against the mantel, looking at her as if she were an intrusive stranger—an intrusive, ill-bred stranger. "Except now it is spoken," he said, "and before it was decently hidden. Spoken words assume a life of their own, Miss Armitage, and cannot be unsaid. However, in the cause of sanity I am quite willing to pretend if you will join in the game."
    "Pretend what?"
    "Contentment."
    Beth turned away, her hands pressed together. "I cannot."
    There was silence, a chinking, then she heard his boots on the floor as he walked towards her. "Here, Elizabeth." He sounded nothing so much as weary.
    She turned and took the wine he offered, sipping cautiously. It was a rare indulgence at Miss Mallory's, and it encouraged her to resist the peace offering it represented. She forced herself to meet his disdainful eyes. "I have not given you permission to use my name, sir. I would ask you to remember, Lord Arden, that this matter—which is a minor disturbance to your life—has destroyed mine. I have been taken from my home, my friends, and my employment, and forced into a way of life in which I can expect no pleasure." She put her glass down with a snap. "It will take me a few days longer, I am afraid, to be able to pretend contentment."
    His eyes sparked dangerously. "I am not generally considered to be repulsive, Miss Armitage."
    Beth's response was swift and tart. "Nor is a baboon, I'm sure, in its proper milieu."
    Any retaliation from the outraged marquess was forestalled by the arrival of servants with their meal. He turned away sharply and went to stand by the far window until the meal was ready. When the innkeeper obsequiously encouraged them to partake of his best, Beth and the marquess approached the table like wary opponents and took seats at the opposite ends. By silent agreement they ate in unbroken silence.
    Beth kept her eyes on her plate. Her heart was pounding, and the delicious food formed lumps in her dry mouth. For one moment she had faced leashed fury such as she had only ever imagined. She had feared him, had feared that he might hit her, throttle her even. But she couldn't be terrified of him. Not if she was to turn him so totally against her.
    It was beyond her at the moment, however, to attempt more taunts, and there were no further words before the journey resumed.
    Beth opened her book once more but used it as a blind for thought. Her plan was not as easy as she had thought. Could she provoke him sufficiently to give him an overpowering antipathy to her without driving him to the violence she had sensed? She shuddered. She had never encountered such a man before. There was something about him, something coiled tight, able to be unleashed for good or evil.
    Hands clenched painfully tight on Self-Control, Beth knew she must not, could not, marry such a man. Despite the duke's assurances, as her husband the marquess would have all right to