Cora laughed. “This Lady Lydia may just win that heart you are always pretending you do not have.”
“No.” Archer stood and gave his sisters a firm look. “This will be a marriage in name alone. I do not want either of you trying to turn this into something it is not.”
I know what weakness love brings.
Juliet nodded, and Cora looked as though she would argue, but Archer narrowed his eyes at her. They were the same height, and Cora had her hair cut short, boyishly short.
“Does she know that?” Cora asked after a long moment.
“I will make that clear when I see her.” Archer waved his hand. “I have no wish to give her false hope.”
The memory of Lydia rose within him—the look of anger when she’d agreed to marry him. It was better that way. It would keep her away from him. And in the morning, he would flesh out the details with her.
Control. That is the key. Rules.That would keep everything as it should be.
“The one thing I wanted, and apparently, it is impossible. Curse him. Curse him and curse all men.” Lydia’s muffled voice was followed by the sound of several things hitting a wall.
“Perhaps you should come back another time, Your Grace. Her Ladyship is… She is not in the mood for entertaining.” The Butler wrung his hands as he looked up at Archer.
They were standing in the hallway of Nittinghill manor, waiting for the butler to announce his presence. It had been two days since the night he had proposed.
Before the butler could do anything, the door flung open, and the smell of lavender drifted across Archer as he looked down into the face of his fiancée.
“What are you doing here?” Lydia’s hazel eyes narrowed, and she folded her arms across her chest, her dark hair falling in waves around her shoulder.
Her cheek bones were sharp, her mouth curved downwards, and her brow furrowed. There was a harshness about her that only added to her beauty.
“A pleasure to see you too, Lady Lydia.” He inclined his head towards her as he swept into the room, noting the books scattered on the floor and the painting that was hanging at an angle. “A rather interesting choice of décor.”
“I was frustrated.” Lydia sighed and sat on the sofa opposite him. “And I did not expect company.”
“And am I to take it that men are the cause of this frustration? Or is it one man in particular?” He canted his head towards her,feeling the corner of his mouth threatening to quirk upwards. “A rather unfortunate sign if I have already gotten so under your skin.”
Her cheeks reddened, but she rolled her eyes. “You are not the source of my frustration.”
Archer bit back the desire to press her further. If she did not want to tell him, so be it. It would make it easier to keep his distance, and the fact that he wanted to know unsettled him.
“I trust this is a convenient time to discuss our wedding.” It was a statement not a question.
“Would it matter if I said it was not?” Lydia tilted her chin up at him, her hazel eyes flashing with defiance and a touch of nerves.
“Yes.”
“Do not lie.”
“Do not call me a liar.” He leaned forwards, his voice cracking through the space between them like a whip. “You were the one who chose to accept my proposal. I am simply here to make sure you understand the terms of our agreement. I would hate for us to start off on the wrong foot.”
Lydia arched an eyebrow at him. “Do you not think it a little late for that? You proposed to me at a duel.”
“An unusual circumstance perhaps but hardly insurmountable.” Archer leaned back in his chair, watching as she shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. “I would far rather we start our lives together on amicable terms; it feels rather too tiring to be wed to someone I am constantly at war with.”
“If you are trying to charm me into your bed, I will tell you now that it will not work. I am not that sort of woman.” Her cheeks flushed a deep scarlet, and she looked away from him.
He canted his head towards her. “And what makes you think I am doing that?”
“I have heard about your… exploits, Duke, and I have no wish to become one of them. Or are you going to deny that you are a rake? No doubt, our marriage will be full of such affairs.”
“You sound jealous, Lady Lydia.”
