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She glanced around the room to see boots discarded by the lone sofa near the fire, and his jacket, cravat, and waistcoat draped over the back of another chair.
She lifted the veil from her face. Fanny had been cautious in disguising herself before she had left the comfort of her brother's townhouse.
“I had the greatest apprehension in coming here tonight," she said with a small smile, hoping to quell the tension that seemed to blanket the room.
His gaze rested thoughtfully on her face. “You should.”
Fanny scowled. Why did he have to sound so ominous? What if he should ravish her before she left? A blush heated her face, and his eyes sharpened. It was as if he could read every mortifying thought. The sudden slant of his mouth seemed almost…threateningly sensual.
She didn’t want to get too close to the man, but Fanny succumbed to the lure of the fire and moved even further into the cozy study.
“I believe it may be prudent to remove your coat,” he murmured. “I believe it to be damp.”
There was a provoking dare in his eyes, one to which she hardly knew how to respond.
She untied the strings of her cloak, pushing back the hood from her face, Fanny reluctantly removed the garment. Those penetrating eyes dropped to her slender figure, and it wasn’t her imagination that something indefinable darkened his gaze.
“Would you like a drink?”
“Yes,” she said, grateful for the chance to hold onto something. Her hands shook, even when she laced them together.
He stood and moved to the sideboard. There was a clink as he tilted the bottle over two glasses. His movements were so graceful yet intimidating. She realized then he was a large man, the top of her head could be tucked under his chin. A certain ruthless strength characterized his demeanor. And it made her uncomfortable. He was not at all like any other gentleman she’d met or conversed with. Despite his acquaintanceship with Colin, her brother had been careful to keep the pair of them at a distance to each other.
A glass was pressed into her hand. “Thank you, my lord,” she murmured.
He resumed sitting on his desk, and she wondered if it was her fanciful imagination that there was a disquieting anticipation in the gaze that settled on her. She took a sip of her drink, coughing slightly at the burn that warmed her insides. How had she not realized she was so cold.
“Now tell me why you would risk the little that is left of your reputation to come here, my lady.”
She strolled over to the sofa which invited response and sat. Fanny met his regard steadily. “My brother believes I should marry right away and retreat to the country until the scandal surrounding my name has died down. He has found a man willing to marry me despite the stain on my name. The Earl of Worsley, and he’s a gentleman of rank and fortune, with an estimable bloodline and reputation.”
She stared in fascination at the white-knuckled grip he had on his glass. It was a wonder it did not shatter.
“So, you are once again engaged?”
“I’ve refused,” she said softly.
A breathless silence blanketed the library. Then he cleared his throat. “Why?”
“I want the man I marry…the man I will spend the rest of my life with to be my choice.” That need had become a hollow, painful ache. “The man my brother selected is very kind and charming, and while I quite like him, he is old enough to be my father and already has six children.”
“I see. And how has this awareness led you to me at this hour?”
The predatory hunger that emanated from him made her unaccountably expectant, except for what she was undecided.
“While I am fond of Lord Worsley, I daresay he will not make me a good husband. He has one foot in the grave, and I am certain the only reason he wants to marry me is so that I can be there for his brood of children. While I desire children of my own, I…I think it may be best if I start out with one and not six. My brother cannot seem to understand this and is planning a wedding without a care for my feelings.”
Her voice cracked, and she waited for a few beats to gather her composure. The quarrels she had been having with her brother had been making her life miserable. He had the gall to blame her for the distance between himself and Darcy. And most dreadful of all, she could not help feeling her brother wanted to be rid of her. Fighting back another wave of sadness she continued, "I am certain he expects me to obediently fall into line because he knows my heart desires, you see. And he is cruelly playing on my fears."
Lord Shaw had not moved, but his intensity increased. “And what is your heart’s desire?”
“Once it had been for a grand love.”
“You no longer desire this?”
She drew a breath that felt, and sounded, unsteady. “My wants are now more rooted in reality and not for frivolous and unlikely sentiments. I desire to be the mistress of my own home, freedom to dabble in my passions. I paint seriously when I am in the country, and I do so enjoy riding. I should like to have children, and the sooner, the better. I am on the cusp of being three and twenty, and I cannot wait for society to forgive another slight. That may take another three years.”
His expression shuttered. “I see.”
