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“Actually,” Caroline said softly, “I fear it might be just the right time. Perhaps we could all adjourn inside? Somewhere private?”
Blake Ravenscroft, Caroline’s husband and James’s best friend, stepped forward. “She’s right, James. Gossip is already flying. Half the party is going to be creeping around this corner within minutes.”
Caroline nodded. “I’m afraid there is going to be a terrible scandal.”
“I’m sure there already is one,” Elizabeth retorted. “Not that I care. I’m sure I will never see any of these people again.”
James felt his fingernails bite into his palms. He was getting heartily sick of Elizabeth’s stubbornness. Not once had she given him the opportunity to state his case. What was all that nonsense she’d said about trusting him? If she’d really trusted him, she might have let him get a word in edgewise.
“You will see these people again
,” he said in a dangerous voice.
“Oh, and when would that be?” she taunted. “I’m not of your ilk, as you have so capably—if rather underhandedly—pointed out.”
“No,” he said softly, “you’re better.”
That startled her into silence. Her mouth trembled, and her voice shook when she finally said, “No. You can’t do this. What you did is unforgivable, and you can’t use sweet words as absolution.”
James gritted his teeth and took a step toward her, heedless of the way Caroline and Blake were gaping at him. “I will give you one day to get over your anger, Elizabeth. You have until this time tomorrow.”
“And then what happens?”
His eyes grew hot as he leaned forward, purposefully intimidating her with his size. “And then you marry me.”
Chapter 18
Elizabeth punched him again, this time catching him so off guard that he tumbled to the ground.
“That is a terrible thing to say!” she cried out.
“Elizabeth,” Caroline said, grabbing her wrist and yanking her to her side. “I think he just asked you to marry him. That’s a nice thing to say. A nice thing.” She turned to her husband, who was looking at James and trying not to laugh. “Isn’t that a nice thing?”
“He doesn’t mean it,” Elizabeth snapped. “He’s only saying that because he feels guilty. He knows what he did was wrong and—”
“Wait a moment,” Blake interjected. “I thought you said he didn’t even know he’d done anything wrong.”
“He didn’t. He doesn’t. I don’t know!” Elizabeth swung around, her eyes narrowing on the darkly handsome gentleman. “And you weren’t even there. How do you know what I said? Were you eavesdropping?”
Blake, who had worked with James at the War Office for many years, simply shrugged. “Second nature, I’m afraid.”
“Well, it’s a despicable habit. I—” She stopped short, motioning toward him with an impatient gesture. “Who are you?”
“Blake Ravenscroft,” he said with a polite bow.
“My husband,” Caroline supplied.
“Ah, yes, the one who has been friends with him”—Elizabeth jerked her hand toward James, who was sitting on the ground, holding his nose—“for years. Pardon me if that connection does not recommend you.”
Blake only smiled.
Elizabeth shook her head, feeling oddly off-kilter. Her world was crashing down around her with dizzying speed, everyone was talking at once, and the only thing she seemed able to hold on to for any length of time was her anger for James. She shook her finger at him, still glaring at Blake. “He’s an aristocrat. A bloody marquis.”
“Is that so bad?” Blake asked, raising his brows.
“He should have told me!”
“James,” Caroline said, kneeling down next to him as far as her costume would let her. “Are you bleeding?”
