seven
IT WAS AMAZING what an unmarried woman was allowed to do with her mother’s approval.
If Angeline had been a normal person and her mother had been just like any other mamas, she wouldn’t be allowed to be alone with an unmarried man.
The worst thing was that other young women would give their best pearl necklaces to have Angeline’s freedom. But she was boiling. She wished her mother would have helped her search for a husband and not for a lover to be drugged.
On the other hand, the best way to convince Mr. North to leave her alone was to have a chat with him. She would be firm and honest, and he would stop pestering her. And Mama would understand Angeline didn’t want to be part of criminal games.
“Don’t be nervous, Angeline.” Mr. North sat next to her on the Chesterfield sofa in a small sitting room quite far from the ballroom. The music couldn’t be heard, which meant that if she screamed, no one would come.
“It’s Miss Haywood.” She inched away from him, wondering if she could jump through the window, land in the garden, and run home.
The sitting room was not on the first floor though, and she might break an ankle. “Mr. North!” She swatted his hand away from her knee. “Stop it.”
“Don’t be shy. Your mother must have told you what I want from you.” He coiled one of her curls around his finger. “We’re here merely to discuss the details. Do not fear. I’ll be gentle.” He snickered, that high-pitched, hiccupping snickering as pleasant as a fork scratching a porcelain plate.
She removed his hand from her hair. “What you discussed with my mother does not matter. I’m not going to spend a night with you.”
“I seriously doubt you wouldn’t be interested in three thousand pounds.” He raised his eyebrows again.
Good Lord. She forced herself to stay calm.
“Excuse me?” She turned towards him quickly enough to wrinkle her dress. The darn neckline dropped a few inches, attracting the full attention of Mr. North’s impolite gaze.
“That’s the sum I offer. Three thousand pounds for the pleasure of lying with you.” He brushed his fingers over the top of her breasts.
Three thousand pounds was the price of her virginity. The man thought he could buy her. She was an article on a shelf. Nothing more.
She removed his hand. “Does my mother know about your offer?”
“No. I wanted to discuss it with you as a matter of respect.” He kissed her hand.
“How kind of you.”
“Thank you.” He wasn’t fluent in sarcasm.
She slid her hand out of his. At least Mama hadn’t negotiated the price.
“I’m not usually attracted to women like you,” he said, caressing her knuckles.
“What do you mean by that?”
“Black hair and eyes, those huge lips that look like a wasp just stung them… I prefer women with fair hair, taller than you are, and who don’t have your angular features. But you possess a certainje ne sais quoithat has its allure. Yes, I’m convinced that three thousand pounds is an appropriate sum. I would offer twice that amount if you had blonde hair.”
“Would you like to inspect my teeth?”
He laughed. “You could wear a wig.”
Enough. “Thank you for this speech, Mr. North, because now I’m even less interested in you than I was before, which I didn’t think was possible.” She rose, but the scoundrel had the audacity to grab her wrist and pull her down onto the sofa again.
“I like a chase, but you’re starting to annoy me with your hostile attitude.”
She shrugged her arm free. “Oh, I’m devastated. Goodbye.” She stood up again, and he dragged her down.
He took her chin between his strong fingers. He could bruise her if he wanted to. “You leave when I say so. My offer is generous because I assumed you’d be cooperative.” He put his greedy hand on her breast.
Anger and shock were never a good combination. Angeline acted on sheer instinct. She seized the vase behind her and poured the water in it over Mr. North’s glorious strawberry-blond hair— roses, thorns, and all. He froze in shock, his mouth hanging open and drops dripping from his hair.
