him?”
“Oh, not at all,” she said wryly. “Haven’t you heard? I’ve no moral fiber whatsoever.”
He growled, “You loved him.”
She spun away from him and picked at the mottled tree bark.
She heard him come up behind her and sensed his arm casually grasping one of the branches above her.
“And do you still?”
“Of course. How could I not?” She crossed her arms and squeezed the flesh at her elbows so tightly it hurt. “I lured him to ruin me, and he was obliged to reluctantly offer for me. Our fathers dared us to resist. But”—she paused—“as you know, I can never resist a challenge. And so I refused to follow convention.” She heard a branch break when she mentioned his father. She turned to see the broken piece in his hand.
“You refused to repair your own reputation out of pride?”
“Pride? Is that what it is when a woman refuses to marry a man who’s admitted he loves someone else?”
“Rosamunde,” he said softly. “Ah, Rosamunde. Well, at least you were not as blind as most. Only fools think marriage can be anything more than a complete and utter descent into madness.”
She glanced quickly at him. “We’re of one mind, sir.”
“And yet, you’ve been punishing your good sense ever since.”
“Not at all. Every lady who can must marry, unless they want to become a burden on their family. And I got exactly what I wished. A husband who wasn’t forced to ask for my hand.” There was a long pause. “And now, you’re justified in asking me to leave your property. I realize I’ve no right to mingle with your guests. Your father”—she swallowed—“said no Langdon was ever to set foot on St. Aubyn property again. I’ve trespassed. My sister and I will leave no later than tomorrow.”
She finally had the courage to meet his gaze again and it nearly took her breath away.
“Where do you propose to go?”
“I have friends in London.”
“Liar.”
A gust of wind rustled the new leaves above them.
He continued, “Immoral I might be, but not stupid. Do you think I don’t know you would’ve never come here unless it was the very last resort?”
“I have money, and I’ll start anew in London.”
“Hmmm,” he murmured doubtfully. “Well, before you go you must pay penance for your deception”—a rush of coldness swept through her—“by allowing me to give you back a portion of the girlhood my idiotic family took from you.” He put up his hands. “No, you can’t refuse me. You’ve been so long from society you’ve forgotten dukes aren’t to be refused anything for any reason. Actually, it’s one of the few privileges that gives me any joy.”
He was so odd at times that Rosamunde could not make out his character. Why was he doing this? Gossip implied he was inconsistent in his actions at best. An absolute scoundrel at worst. Well, in her eyes he had only ever been noble, even protective, even if it was sometimes in a high-handed, loutish sort of way.
But if the talk was true, she could not count on him. He went through life on a whim, she suspected, and woe to anyone who dared cross him. The dark blood running in his veins promised a nasty bit of temper. And she had seen enough of that.
But standing in front of his penetrating, heavy-lidded gaze she found it difficult to defy him, especially since it appeared he was trying to be attentive, in his own absurd, distant manner.
He spoke when she didn’t respond. “You’ll allow me to give you a season full of pleasure, and it will be far away from the dirt and weeds my gardeners tell me you’re so all-fired fond of.”
“Really, you owe me nothing. If you’re looking forpleasure, Lord Fire and Ice , perhaps you should look toward Theodora Tandy.”
He chuckled and scratched his head. “Are you jealous?”
“Absolutely not,” she said, fearing she sounded flustered. “It’s just that you’re not playing by your favored rules.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that, my dear. I might be
“Oh, not at all,” she said wryly. “Haven’t you heard? I’ve no moral fiber whatsoever.”
He growled, “You loved him.”
She spun away from him and picked at the mottled tree bark.
She heard him come up behind her and sensed his arm casually grasping one of the branches above her.
“And do you still?”
“Of course. How could I not?” She crossed her arms and squeezed the flesh at her elbows so tightly it hurt. “I lured him to ruin me, and he was obliged to reluctantly offer for me. Our fathers dared us to resist. But”—she paused—“as you know, I can never resist a challenge. And so I refused to follow convention.” She heard a branch break when she mentioned his father. She turned to see the broken piece in his hand.
“You refused to repair your own reputation out of pride?”
“Pride? Is that what it is when a woman refuses to marry a man who’s admitted he loves someone else?”
“Rosamunde,” he said softly. “Ah, Rosamunde. Well, at least you were not as blind as most. Only fools think marriage can be anything more than a complete and utter descent into madness.”
She glanced quickly at him. “We’re of one mind, sir.”
“And yet, you’ve been punishing your good sense ever since.”
“Not at all. Every lady who can must marry, unless they want to become a burden on their family. And I got exactly what I wished. A husband who wasn’t forced to ask for my hand.” There was a long pause. “And now, you’re justified in asking me to leave your property. I realize I’ve no right to mingle with your guests. Your father”—she swallowed—“said no Langdon was ever to set foot on St. Aubyn property again. I’ve trespassed. My sister and I will leave no later than tomorrow.”
She finally had the courage to meet his gaze again and it nearly took her breath away.
“Where do you propose to go?”
“I have friends in London.”
“Liar.”
A gust of wind rustled the new leaves above them.
He continued, “Immoral I might be, but not stupid. Do you think I don’t know you would’ve never come here unless it was the very last resort?”
“I have money, and I’ll start anew in London.”
“Hmmm,” he murmured doubtfully. “Well, before you go you must pay penance for your deception”—a rush of coldness swept through her—“by allowing me to give you back a portion of the girlhood my idiotic family took from you.” He put up his hands. “No, you can’t refuse me. You’ve been so long from society you’ve forgotten dukes aren’t to be refused anything for any reason. Actually, it’s one of the few privileges that gives me any joy.”
He was so odd at times that Rosamunde could not make out his character. Why was he doing this? Gossip implied he was inconsistent in his actions at best. An absolute scoundrel at worst. Well, in her eyes he had only ever been noble, even protective, even if it was sometimes in a high-handed, loutish sort of way.
But if the talk was true, she could not count on him. He went through life on a whim, she suspected, and woe to anyone who dared cross him. The dark blood running in his veins promised a nasty bit of temper. And she had seen enough of that.
But standing in front of his penetrating, heavy-lidded gaze she found it difficult to defy him, especially since it appeared he was trying to be attentive, in his own absurd, distant manner.
He spoke when she didn’t respond. “You’ll allow me to give you a season full of pleasure, and it will be far away from the dirt and weeds my gardeners tell me you’re so all-fired fond of.”
“Really, you owe me nothing. If you’re looking forpleasure, Lord Fire and Ice , perhaps you should look toward Theodora Tandy.”
He chuckled and scratched his head. “Are you jealous?”
“Absolutely not,” she said, fearing she sounded flustered. “It’s just that you’re not playing by your favored rules.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that, my dear. I might be
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