Page 84 of The Dangerous Lord

The orchestra from hell now howled in his head. “What did she say about me?”

“Nothing important.” With an air of distraction, she turned away to survey the vestibule. “This is a very nice church, Ian. Is it the one you attend?”

“Damn it, Felicity!” He grabbed her shoulders and spun her around to face him. “What the bloody hell did she tell you?”

Her gaze met his, cool, composed. “What if she told me the truth?”

He didn’t have to ask what truth. My God, no. Surely not. Surely if Miss Greenaway had told her the truth, Felicity wouldn’t be standing here. She’d be running away from him as far as her meager funds would carry her. Wouldn’t she?

Only when she reached up to pry his fingers from her shoulders did he realize he’d been digging them into her flesh like pincers.

She didn’t release them, however, but clasped them in hers. “She told me nothing, Ian, that you hadn’t already told me. She said you swore her to secrecy. And that you would have to tell me yourself.”

The furious pounding in his head eased, but only a little. “So she didn’t satisfy your foolish curiosity about things that don’t matter?”

“No.”

“Yet you came here anyway.”

Her brief smile reassured him. “Yes. One thing she did tell me was that your secret isn’t likely to hurt me.”

“I told you that myself.” It was far more likely to hurt him by turning her against him, which was why he wouldn’t speak of it until he had her wedded, bedded, and pregnant. And why he ignored her expectant look now. “What else did she tell you?”

She sighed. “She also said you’d be a good husband and treat me well.”

A faint hope sprouted inside him. “And you believed her?”

“Let’s just say I believe you have the potential to be a good husband.” Her tone grew frosty. “But not if you continue to treat me the way you did the other night. Your secrecy is bad enough, but to threaten to hasten my financial ruin in such a despicable manner—” She lifted her chin a notch. “I do not like being bullied, Ian.”

The extent of that dislike was apparent in every rigid line of her slender body. He ground his teeth together. He’d already planned to apologize, but now that the moment was come the words seemed stuck in his throat. “I did what I thought was right.”

“You thought it was right to force me?”

He dragged his hands from hers. “It was the only way to make you realize the wisdom of marrying me.”

“Oh, you think so, do you?” She crossed her arms over her faded wool bodice.

With a groan, he glanced away. “No.” He sighed. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I shouldn’t have forced you.”

“Do you mean that?”

“Yes.”

“So if I don’t marry you, you’ll do nothing to stop me?”

His gaze shot to hers, a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. My God, would she refuse him now? With everyone waiting in the church? He scanned her face for some sign of what she intended.

And saw none. Yet he knew that only one answer would show his sincerity, however much it pricked his pride to give it. “No. Yes. I mean I’ll do nothing to stop you.”

The blood thundered in his ears as he waited for her response, but she wasn’t finished with him yet. “I have one more question. If you answer it to my satisfaction, I’ll marry you.”

That put him on his guard. “If you mean those tales of Lady Brumley’s⁠—”

“No. It’s something that ... has been troubling me since you made love to me. Why did you choose me to marry? Why not any of those other women you courted?”

Sara had asked him the same thing, and his answer hadn’t changed. “Because I want you more than any of them.”

For the first time since they’d begun this ludicrous discussion, she looked agitated. “If by wanting me, you mean desire, I should warn you I still intend not to share your bed until we work out our differences.”