“I wasn’t writing about you specifically,” she said. “Rather the broader ignorance of aristocrats to the plight of common folk.”
“And I happen to be your favorite example?” His smile held no warmth. “The worst of the breed, am I?”
“I can’t say.” She met his gaze steadily. “Though you do seem to feature rather prominently in the scandal sheets.”
“There’s little I can do about attracting attention.” Frustration and something deeper flashed in his eyes. “Remember, Miss Thornton, you’ve seen only one side of the page. Good night.”
He was gone before she could respond, leaving behind only the lingering scent of his cologne and the uncomfortable feeling that they’d both missed something important in their clash of wills.
Amelia sank back into her chair, staring at the door he’d slammed with rather more force than necessary. In three days, she would be bound to that impossible man for a year.
God help them both.
