Smoothing her skirts, she took her place across the table from him. Clearly, Edie had recovered from the shock of his statement last night and was marshalling her entire reserve.
“You are the very last man I would ever….”
And there came the flush again.
“You can’t say it, can you?” he asked with some delight. Edwina’s inability to lie was one of the things he adored most about her. “You know it’s not true, and so you can’t say it.”
She threw her hands in the air in exasperation. “My lord?—”
“Sterling.” Popping a piece of toast in his mouth, he licked the jam from his fingers. Deliberately. “You’ve never had any sort of problem with my name before. I don’t see why we should start now.”
“But you are a lord, even if only by title,” she pointed out. “Your father is a duke.”
If there was one way to pall the mood in the room it was by bringing up his father. He scowled at her. Dirty play indeed, Miss Sheffield. “I don’t see what that has to do with any of this?”
“I am not a member of the peerage,” she pointed out as she reached for her toast and butter, “and I have no intention of becoming your mistress.”
He stared at her for long, hot seconds, trying not to think about the bloody ring in his satchel. There was an easy way to answer that charge—marry me then. The words even settled on his tongue, but as he took one look at her face, he decided against uttering them.
If he asked her to marry him right now, then she was going to choke on her tea, spray toast crumbs across the table, and accuse him of trying to murder her. Death by accidental asphyxiation.
She needed time to get used to the shift in circumstances between them.
She was already bloody fighting him about a kiss. A single kiss.
And….
He had been born on silk sheets with servants catering to his every whim. His father had instilled in him the confidence of knowing that no matter what happened in life, he was the Duke of Clarenvale’s son. Or spare, to be honest.
For thirty-one years, if he wanted something then he got it.
And then Edwina walked into his life.
And for the first time he wasn’t sure if she… if she would actually accept his suit.
She was attracted to him. She seemed to like him. Didn’t she?
But he adored her and if truth be told, he suspected that his feelings in the matter were stronger than hers.
Doubt settled in.
What had she called him in the past? A wastrel? A rogue? He of the thousand mistresses, which was a vast overestimation. Reckless. Irresponsible. A vapid charmer—oh yes, he definitely remembered that one.
A duke’s son.
He’d always felt the weight of that mantle around his throat like a collar, but he’d never actively resented it as much as he did now.
“You always think so poorly of me,” he countered, and though his voice came lightly, there was an edge to it. “Have I asked you to be my mistress?”
Edwina blinked. “I do not think poorly of you.”
Well, there was that, at least.
“But what is a woman to think when a gentleman insists he’s going to… to…?”
“Fuck her blind, are the words I believe you’re searching for.”
He was right. Tea went everywhere and she shot him a murderous look as she coughed and spluttered.
