“In an ideal world, perhaps not.”
She folded her arms more tightly. “And I suppose inyourideal world, I should thank you for the privilege of being rescued?”
He looked at her and wished, against reason, that she were less lovely when angry. The cold had left a fine brightness in her cheeks. Her mouth, so ready for sharp replies, was set in a lineof determined resistance. Her eyes held intelligence enough to provoke and beauty enough to distract.
Standing so near her, he was absurdly conscious of the faint scent of lavender about her gloves, of the quick rise and fall of her breathing, of the way her fingers pressed into the sleeves at her elbows as if to contain all the indignation moving through her.
It was allextremelyinconvenient.
“You mistake me,” he told her more curtly than he intended. “I am not offering romance.”
“I am relieved to hear it.”
“I offer a marriage of convenience,” he clarified.
She stared. “That does not improve it.”
“It actually improves everything.”
“For whom?” she pouted.
He was glad to elaborate. “For you, for your family, and for the peace of every person presently forced to speculate upon us.”
Her brows rose. “Us? There is nous, Your Grace.”
“There is now, in the minds of half of London.”
She turned away from him a little, looking out across the damp lawn as if the sight of winter grass might steady her. “I will not marry to correct a lie.”
“And I cannot admire your principle,” he retorted, “when it is so thoroughly impractical.”
At that she turned back, her eyes widened. “Impractical?”
“Yes.”
Her voice sharpened. “You are out of your mind if you believe I shall bind myself for life because society has amused itself for a few days.”
“And you,” he said, feeling his own restraint begin to give way, “are astonishingly stubborn for a woman who has, however unintentionally, made an already intolerable situation worse.”
The words hung between them. The color in her face altered. She did not show retreat, and he had not expected that of her. But what he saw in her eyes was something fiercer and far more dangerous.
“Worse?” she said softly. “I defended you because no one else had the courage to do so.”
He frowned. “You acted without considering the consequences this might have on us both.”
She took a step nearer him then, and the movement was so sudden and so charged that Andrew forgot the rest of his sentence. He could see the quick pulse at the base of her throat.
“And what consequences,” she demanded, “am I meant to have considered? That kindness toward a man is always interpreted as desire? That a woman may not speak without offering herself up for inspection? Those are notmyfailures, Your Grace.”
No, he thought,but they may yet become your punishment.
The thought came too swiftly and with too much force.
“This is no longer only about you,” he said, forcing calm into his voice.
“I have heard those same words from my father, so I don’t need to hear them again, thank you very much.”
“Your father is right in that at least.” He refused to pull back. “Your name is attached to mine. Your sister’s prospects may be affected. Your family’s standing may suffer. Would you have them bear the cost of your…noble impulse?”
