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“I admit I was not at my best last night,” she muttered, coloring a little.
Shaking off a strange feeling of premonition, he forced himself to stop staring and answer her. “Well, you have certainly made up for it today,” he murmured. He must act as though he knew nothing. Which was only true, actually, for he had no way of proving his theory. Yet. “But why hide your beauty behind—if you will please pardon my rudeness—such an ill-appearing disguise? You would have outshone every other woman present at last night’s fête.”
One corner of her full, ripe lips curled. Lips that had come so very close to his only moments ago.
“I thank you for the compliment, monsieur, but you should know that your reputation precedes you. I am well aware of your habits where women are concerned.”
The chit was a strange mixture of woman and girl, one moment innocent and fresh, the next as wary and cynical as any jade. Alessandro decided not to bring up the matter of her disguise again, since she’d chosen to evade his question. Her frank admission of knowledge regarding his pursuits was far more interesting, anyway.
“If you are aware of my proclivities, then why did you choose to come here alone with me?”
The air between them became charged as the silence stretched, as she groped for an answer. He could tell part of her wanted to run away, while another part, the curious, rebellious part, wished to stay.
“I think you know as well as I that a reputation is often a poor reflection of a person,” he chided. “People say many things about me. It is up to you to determine whether you believe the good or the bad. I would, however, hope that you form your opinion of me based upon your own experience. As you can see, mademoiselle, I have refrained from leaping upon you like a wild beast, though I admit it has been terribly difficult,” he teased, lightening the mood.
“That you have, monsieur,” she granted with a grudging smile.
“Then trust the instinct that brought you here. Tell me what sent you fleeing to this place. Perhaps I can help?”
After a long hesitation, she finally relented. “A match has been arranged for me with someone I do not wish to marry.”
Inexplicable disappointment filled Alessandro. “Have you told them of your objection to their choice?”
“I have not, as I came by this information through another means. My desires matter not, in any case. Regardless of my opinion, I know they will insist upon the marriage.”
“They?”
“My parents.”
“I see. What is so bad about this prospective husband?”
“Nothing,” she snapped. “He is a good man, and already a great friend of mine.”
“Then I am afraid don’t see the problem.” Damn. If she’d told him the man was abusive or indifferent, he might have had a chance.
“I cannot marry him! The idea is repugnant!”
The vehemence of her protest surprised him. “Is he deformed?” he asked, confused.
A sad little laugh escaped her. “No. In truth, he is considered quite handsome.”
“Yet you feel no desire for him.” It was a statement, not a question, for the answer was clear in the grim set of her mouth. Who was this man? It could not be anyone in his circle or he would surely have heard about this woman. “Does the gentleman share your lack of sentiment?”
“We have known each other since I was born. He is a brother to me in all but blood, and I am certain he feels the same.”
Looking at her now, Alessandro doubted the man would continue to feel brotherly for very long. “Perhaps in time you will learn to desire him?”
She shot him a withering stare.
“I see,” he mumbled. “Surely, you can convince—”
“There is nothing to be done,” she interrupted. “My father has already said that upon our return home, the agreement between our families will be formalized. There is no alternative for someone like me. Whether I want it or not, I must accept it.”
My father. Our families. Someone like me... A royal cuckoo. It was the only explanation. “If there is no alternative, then you can only try to view your circumstance with optimism. At least you are amiable toward one another.” The lie tasted sour in his mouth. Nothing good would come of forcing this woman to marry a man she did not want. After a moment’s pause, he cocked his head and peered at her. “Or is it that you have already given your heart to someone else?”
An indelicate snort of derision was her only answer.
Molto bene. At least her heart was not taken—yet.
