Page 23 of The Redemption of the Shrew

He sighed and faced the mirror. “I am preparing to leave for a party. You have five minutes.” After which, he intended to put her bodily out the door. “What do you want from me?”

“You know perfectly well what I want,” she said.

He rolled his eyes at this typical female obtuseness. “Why do women expect us to be mind readers?”

“Pretending ignorance won’t work, Philippe. Where is it?”

He put a damper on his rising temper and concentrated on tying his cravat. “Where is what?”

“You stole it from me, you dirty, disgusting thief.”

That gave him pause, for he was a thief, or had been. Lately, he’d increased his coffers by gambling. It wasn’t as reliable as burglary or highway robbery, but usually he came out ahead. He faced her, cocking a brow, remembering too late that for some absurd reason, the raising of one questioning eyebrow made the ladies flutter and sigh.

She didn’t. “Ha!” She shook a furious finger at him. “I see it in your eyes. You admit it. You are a thief, just as Daisy said.”

Evidently, Julian Kerr had no more control over his wife, another Warren woman, than Philippe or any sane man would have over Gloriana. He pitied her future husband, whoever he might be.

“Was a thief,” he said. “But I fail to see what that has to do with you.”

“You stole my book.” She clenched her fists. “You vile, sneaky, underhanded, hypocritical dastard. And then you have the gall to laugh at me when I come to confront you.”

“I wasn’t laughing at you.” He’d been laughing at the absurdity of fate. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t avoid this lunatic woman.

“Every word you say is a lie.” She was practically foaming at the mouth. “Give it back to me.”

“I didn’t steal anything from you, book or otherwise.” He hadn’t even taken her virtue five years ago, when she’d offered it like the brazen hussy she was.

Nobody would trap him into marriage.

But that wasn’t the problem just now. He frowned, wondering what she was talking about. He had indeed stolen a book from a collector in Chester several months ago—it was related to a deal on which he couldn’t renege—but as far as he knew, there was no connection to Gloriana.

“Give it to me now, or I swear, I shall return, and this time, I will kill you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. “Out with you, right now. If you return, if you ever bother my sister again, I’ll have you forcibly removed.”

“My book!” she shrieked and lunged at him. “Give it back!”

~ ~ ~

She couldn’t win. She never won against this man.

She’d tried to control her temper, but she knew, when it came down to it, she wouldn’t denounce him in public. Not that she cared a whit about him, but it would upset Daisy, and Julian too, which would upset Daisy even more, and Miles and Melinda too, as well as Sophie Brun.

She certainly didn’t have the courage to kill him. Which meant he had won. Again.

She pounded his chest with her fists, screaming and crying with rage. “You stole my Book of Hours. The only thing in the world I cared about! I hate you!” Pound. “I want to kill you!” Punch. “Slowly.” Thump. “Painfully.” Thud. “Gruesomely, you loathsome beast.” She was getting tired, but he just stood there motionless, letting her hit him over and over.

“I know you hate me,” she raged and thumped him again. “I understand that you despise me.” Misery fueled each exhausted thud of her fists. Sobs crowded from her throat and from her very heart. “Isn’t that enough? Did you have to steal my book too?”

Suddenly, he grabbed her hands and held them still. “I did not steal your book.”

“Liar. Dastard. Beast,” she sobbed, struggling, but he held her firmly against his chest.

“I swear upon my honor,” he said.

She kicked him.

“By all that’s holy, I did not steal your book.”