could she have been so shameless?
Suddenly Granbury was leaning in toward her; his soft fingers biting into her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes. "There is no one else, is there, my dear?"
"Someone else?" Shock made her clumsy. How could he know? Was the truth there on her face to be read?
"Another swain, some importunate fool who has given you his heart and dazzled you with poetry?" Emily gathered her wits enough to realize that he did not know about Valentine. He could not. He was simply trying to understand why she no longer wanted to marry him.
"I am not easily swayed by poetry," she said sharply tugging her chin away from his painful grip. "And I have had dozens of hearts laid at my feet during my seasons, enough to know that means nothing."
He did not back away and his eyes narrowed. His displeasure was plain. "My heart is yours, my dear. Surely you are not telling me that means nothing to you?"
"I would not have agreed to marry you otherwise," Emily lied. "And that is why I am so very worried about you. No man I have agreed to marry has lived until the wedding day." She bit her lip, wondering if he would laugh at her melodrama.
“Except, of course, the one with whom you ran away."
She did not have to feign her displeasure. "That is an unworthy rumor to repeat, my lord. And it does no credit to the two men of whom I speak who made honorable offers. Neither of them knew that asking me to marry them would lead to their untimely demises." She wondered if she had laid it on a bit thick, but desperation was pushing her.
His reaction was curious and unsettling. A gleam of satisfied amusement lit his eyes. "I am not an ordinary man. Some have said that I was blessed with the nine lives of a cat when I was born." Obviously the idea pleased him.
Emily knew she was treading dangerous waters to disagree with him, but she could not help replying sharply, "No one truly has nine lives, my lord, not even a cat. And I have two men who pledged to marry me and never made it to the altar. You can call me superstitious if you please, but the cold facts remain unchanged."
"I would not give up my prize because of a foolish superstition." His voice was chilling. "Nor would I give her up to another man, not without a fight." He smiled again, his voice pleasant and easy. "And I always win, my dear."
Just then, her mother arrived, giving Emily a chance to break his gaze and move away from him. His prize. Was that how he saw her? She suppressed a shiver. Where had her wits been when she accepted his proposal? He was a toad. Worse‚ he was a poisonous toad. To her great relief, her mother kept them company‚ ensuring the conversation would remain innocuous‚the rest of the afternoon. What Granbury had said preyed on her mind. So much so that she took the opportunity, while her mother was distracted with a matter in the kitchen, to continue her plan to dissuade him once again. As the tea things were delivered, she debated how to deal with his apparent belief that he was meeting some kind of challenge by continuing on with the plan of marriage. "I must tell you, your words when we spoke earlier have moved me, Lord Granbury."
"Indeed?"
"Yes. Greatly. I agree that you are not an ordinary man, my lord."
"You are a discerning young woman, then."
"But I must tell you that your extraordinary character is my exact concern." She handed him his tea, two lemon slices. Crafting her own expression carefully, she hoped she looked sufficiently distraught as she poured for herself, cream and one sugar. "For I am no ordinary woman. I must confess that I have brought ill-fortune to every man who sought to marry me." Including Valentine, she thought to herself. Why else but for her sake did he now lie under her bed in danger of being torn apart by the hounds, whipped out of Scotland by her mother, or utterly destroyed by the marquess of Granbury?
Infuriatingly, he still did not take her seriously. His voice was pitched as if she were a
Suddenly Granbury was leaning in toward her; his soft fingers biting into her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes. "There is no one else, is there, my dear?"
"Someone else?" Shock made her clumsy. How could he know? Was the truth there on her face to be read?
"Another swain, some importunate fool who has given you his heart and dazzled you with poetry?" Emily gathered her wits enough to realize that he did not know about Valentine. He could not. He was simply trying to understand why she no longer wanted to marry him.
"I am not easily swayed by poetry," she said sharply tugging her chin away from his painful grip. "And I have had dozens of hearts laid at my feet during my seasons, enough to know that means nothing."
He did not back away and his eyes narrowed. His displeasure was plain. "My heart is yours, my dear. Surely you are not telling me that means nothing to you?"
"I would not have agreed to marry you otherwise," Emily lied. "And that is why I am so very worried about you. No man I have agreed to marry has lived until the wedding day." She bit her lip, wondering if he would laugh at her melodrama.
“Except, of course, the one with whom you ran away."
She did not have to feign her displeasure. "That is an unworthy rumor to repeat, my lord. And it does no credit to the two men of whom I speak who made honorable offers. Neither of them knew that asking me to marry them would lead to their untimely demises." She wondered if she had laid it on a bit thick, but desperation was pushing her.
His reaction was curious and unsettling. A gleam of satisfied amusement lit his eyes. "I am not an ordinary man. Some have said that I was blessed with the nine lives of a cat when I was born." Obviously the idea pleased him.
Emily knew she was treading dangerous waters to disagree with him, but she could not help replying sharply, "No one truly has nine lives, my lord, not even a cat. And I have two men who pledged to marry me and never made it to the altar. You can call me superstitious if you please, but the cold facts remain unchanged."
"I would not give up my prize because of a foolish superstition." His voice was chilling. "Nor would I give her up to another man, not without a fight." He smiled again, his voice pleasant and easy. "And I always win, my dear."
Just then, her mother arrived, giving Emily a chance to break his gaze and move away from him. His prize. Was that how he saw her? She suppressed a shiver. Where had her wits been when she accepted his proposal? He was a toad. Worse‚ he was a poisonous toad. To her great relief, her mother kept them company‚ ensuring the conversation would remain innocuous‚the rest of the afternoon. What Granbury had said preyed on her mind. So much so that she took the opportunity, while her mother was distracted with a matter in the kitchen, to continue her plan to dissuade him once again. As the tea things were delivered, she debated how to deal with his apparent belief that he was meeting some kind of challenge by continuing on with the plan of marriage. "I must tell you, your words when we spoke earlier have moved me, Lord Granbury."
"Indeed?"
"Yes. Greatly. I agree that you are not an ordinary man, my lord."
"You are a discerning young woman, then."
"But I must tell you that your extraordinary character is my exact concern." She handed him his tea, two lemon slices. Crafting her own expression carefully, she hoped she looked sufficiently distraught as she poured for herself, cream and one sugar. "For I am no ordinary woman. I must confess that I have brought ill-fortune to every man who sought to marry me." Including Valentine, she thought to herself. Why else but for her sake did he now lie under her bed in danger of being torn apart by the hounds, whipped out of Scotland by her mother, or utterly destroyed by the marquess of Granbury?
Infuriatingly, he still did not take her seriously. His voice was pitched as if she were a
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