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“No! Not if you love someone else. And not if that someone loves you as well. And you know Henry loves you—a blind fool could see it.”
“He has never said it,” Sabrina countered. But she knew it was true, even if he had not actually spoken the words.
“You do not have to give Falloure an answer today. Let me send for—”
“I still wouldn’t consider him. We are not suited.”
Her mother stared at her for a long moment before she finally spoke. “I can see there is no point in trying to change your mind.” Striding to the door, she paused. “I never thought any of my children would turn out to be cowards, least of all you. God help you both.” She jerked it open and summoned Falloure.
Though she’d been cut to the quick, Sabrina pasted on a smile for her husband-to-be.
“You have declared your intent to marry my daughter,” said her mother. “I find your proposal acceptable, provided your family is also agreeable to the match.”
“My mother will certainly have no objection,” assured Percy. “In fact, I believe she’ll want us to marry as soon as possible.”
Her mother stiffened. “I was going to suggest the beginning of next Season. Is there any particular reason for haste?”
“No, my lady.” He flushed at the insinuation. “Other than the most respectful eagerness, I mean.”
She relaxed. “Very well,” said her mother. “If that is your wish and your parents are amenable, then I also see no point in delay. The end of June shall suffice.”
Sabrina was both relieved and pleased. June wasn’t that far off. Mama would forgive her as soon as she began producing grandchildren.
Sabrina stood in greeting when Fairford entered. “Good morning, my lord.”
Stepping forward, he bowed and held out his hand, but she did not offer him her fingers, as had become her custom. He dropped his arm. “I was pleased to receive your summons and came as soon as possible—to hear good news, I hope.”
There was no point in putting off the inevitable. “Lord Falloure has asked for my hand. I have accepted.”
Fairford’s wary mask fell away, replaced by incredulity. “Why in heaven’s name would you marry that, that—”
“He is the logical choice,” she cut in, casting a nervous glance toward the door. Mama had deigned to allow her a measure of privacy, but she was not far away.
“Logical? That you would choose him over me is, is incomprehensible! Montgomery I could understand, at least—but Falloure? I have put up with your indecision and Montgomery’s insufferable interference in the hope of securing your favor, and now you tell me that this blackguard has charmed his way into your good graces in a matter of weeks?”
“My lord, I—”
“You cannot possibly love him!”
She flinched but did not back down. “We discussed this at length, my lord. I thought you understood I had no interest in a love match.”
“I didn’t think you actually meant it. Women often say one thing and mean the opposite.” He ran a shaky hand through his hair.
“I am truly sorry, my lord,” she said, again glancing at the door. “I genuinely regret any pain I may have caused—I assure you such was not my intent.”
His normally cool gaze burned with fury, and his hands were clenched into fists. The situation was rapidly deteriorating.
“Please, my lord, you must under—”
“I have nothing more to say to you,” he snapped. Turning on his heel, he stalked to the door, yanked it open, and pushed past the startled footman waiting on the other side.
She watched from the window as he stormed out of Aylesford House.
Nervous sweat trickled down between her breasts as her heart finally began to slow. Cold disdain she’d anticipated, but never an emotional outburst like that.
Drained by the encounter, she sat, just as the connecting door opened and her mother peeked through.
“I’d say that went rather well, all things considered.”
