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Laurence’s usually easy-going manner turned lethal. “Allow me to fetch my wife. I’m more concerned abouthisreputation and the consequences of being alone withyou.”
The blow found a direct hit. Even in the dim light, Timothy could tell that Emma—err—Miss Pratt’s face blanched.
Timothy needed to diffuse the volatile situation, although his own blood was boiling. “Don’t bother Bea. I can take care of myself. If Emma, I mean Miss Pratt, wanted to trap me, she would have had ample opportunity already.”
Laurence’s mouth formed a taut line below his demi-mask, but he nodded and left them alone in the room.
The air crackled between them. Or was that the fire in the hearth? He glanced over toward the fireplace, finding the blaze he expected within a mere sputter.
Definitely the air between them.
“That was Lord Montgomery?” she asked, as if she were casually enquiring about the weather.
“Don’t change the subject. Explain yourself.” His head pounded. He could almost feel the blood shooting through his veins to find a home inside his skull.
“Should we sit?” she asked. Gone was the hellion he’d spent the night with in Lincolnshire. In her place, a frightened, timid woman quaked before him. She rubbed at the red oval marks marring the delicate white skin of her arm.
Evidence from his own hand. Guilt soured his stomach. “Please.” He pointed to the settee and took a seat on a comfortable wingback opposite.
Color returned to her face, but she twisted the fabric of her gown in tightly coiled fists.
“I’m waiting.” He veritably barked the words.
Fire returned to her eyes. Ah, there was the woman he remembered. “If you would be patient, sir. I’m trying to determine where to begin.”
Unable to resist the eye roll, he said, “At the beginning.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Very well. I was born.” A slight smirk played at her lips, and he had the urge to throttle her.
Or perhaps kiss her.
Irritation at his own reaction fueled his anger. “You know very well what I meant. Stop stalling. Why did you lie to me about your identity?”
Heavy silence stretched between them, yet he waited, crossing his arms over his chest for emphasis.
Emotions flickered across her face, changing so rapidly he wondered what exactly was going on in that mind of hers.
At last, she spoke. “At first, I only wished to be judged by my own merit rather than my tattered reputation. I recognized your name and knew if I revealed my true identity, you would treat me poorly.”
He harrumphed. “Throwing a boot at my head was supposed to paint you in a favorable light?”
“Andyouknow very well what I meant. I wished to avoid having you make a snap judgment against me.”
“So you judged me instead?” He wanted the words to have a bite, but he failed, cringing internally at the injured tone in his voice.
Her expression softened, and she cast her gaze to her hands clutching her gown. She released the fabric, smoothing it, then folded her hands neatly onto her lap. “I did. I apologize.”
The moment of contrition was short-lived, though, and she lifted her eyes to meet his directly. “But can you blame me for wanting to be known for something other than a conniving shrew who’s willing to trap a man into marriage?”
Disjointed pieces slid together. When he’d asked Bea about the woman Harry refused to speak of, his sister had told him of the compromise orchestrated by one Miss Priscilla Pratt. And wasn’t Pratt the name the men used when discovering her at the snowbound cottage?
He brought the matter back to the present. “You said at first.”
She sighed. “When it became clear we were to be confined in the cottage together, I wished to alleviate any concern you might have regarding your duty toward me. If you would but think on the matter, you might understand why. I had no intention of trapping you, yet would you not have immediately arrived at that conclusion had you known I was the infamous Priscilla Pratt? Wasn’t Lord Montgomery’s protest proof of that?”
She had a point. She could have informed her rescuers of his presence and accused him of compromising her. Even his statement to Laurence admitted as much. Given the knowledge that even then she knew his name, the fact that no one sought him out, especially her father, gave testament to her silence.
“I suppose you had no wish to jeopardize your betrothal to Mr. Netheregions.”
