opponent. His gaze seared her, but Mia didn’t let herself be intimidated by his anger. She knew instinctively that his fists might curl, but he would never be violent.
“Of course not, Vander. I thought we could request an annulment.”
“Vander?”
His voice lashed her. This was awful, just awful. She had momentarily forgotten that while she thought of him by the nickname his friends gave him, he scarcely remembered who she was.
“I apologize,” she gasped. “Would you prefer Your Grace? Of course you’d prefer Your Grace. You are a Your Grace.” She was babbling, but she couldn’t seem to stop. “My mother died years ago and I have no idea how married couples address each other in private. Not that we’re truly married. I just . . . I’m sorry.”
A moment of ominous silence followed before he shoved a hand through his hair. “It is I who should apologize. You caught me by surprise. No one addresses me by that name other than my intimate friends.”
“Of course,” Mia said, forcing a smile. “You needn’tapologize. And as I said, my solicitor is fairly sure that he can have the marriage dissolved in a mere six months. There’s no need for us to become intimate in any fashion at all.” She drew out a folded sheet of paper from her reticule. “I drew up another explanation once I concluded that you hadn’t read the letter I initially wrote you.”
He took the sheet from her and skimmed it. “You want to marry me for six months, after which the marriage will end. And you expect no financial support either during or after the marriage.”
“Yes, that’s it,” she said, making her tone bright. Now that he understood, he could stop being angry. His eyes would probably fill with joy.
Instead, his mouth tightened, and slowly, methodically, he ripped her letter into pieces and dropped them on the floor.
“What are you doing?” Mia gasped.
“I plan to go through that farce we endured in the chapel only once in my life.”
“Why would you—what are you talking about?”
“Marriage. A mechanism by which two people are forced to remain in proximity for a lifetime. The truth is that your proposal made me see that a love match is the last thing in the world I’d want.”
“But—”
“As we have discussed, you are not who I would have chosen for myself,” he continued, his gaze drifting from her face to her shabby dress. “But there was always the chance that I would have made my father’s mistake, and married a beautiful woman who would collect lovers the way squirrels gather nuts.”
Mia could feel her face growing hot. There was part of her, the part that wrote love stories, that wanted to believe that not every man found her unlovely. The shallow, naïve side of her.
She raised her chin a notch. “Be that as it may, I don’t wish to remain married to you. You may not dream of a loving marriage, but I do hope for that someday. Your Grace.” The last two words were spoken with a touch of asperity.
He gave a crack of laughter. “You should have thought of that before you blackmailed me into marriage, Duchess. It seems your scheme has turned against you. I believe that is often the case.”
She stared at him, trying to find words. He was serious. He meant to keep her in the marriage. “Please,” she said, beginning to feel genuinely fearful. “I can see that you’re angry at me, and I know I deserve it. But mightn’t we be reasonable about this? I will happily offer proof of adultery, leaving both of us free to forget this marriage happened.”
“My mother spent the latter part of her life jaunting around the country with another man, incidentally, your father.” He leaned forward, his words clipped and furious. “I am neither mad nor incapacitated. My wife will live under my roof. She will never commit adultery.”
Mia took a deep breath. “But I don’t wish to live with you,” she explained. “I don’t consider us truly married.”
A grim smile touched his lips.
“Of course not, Vander. I thought we could request an annulment.”
“Vander?”
His voice lashed her. This was awful, just awful. She had momentarily forgotten that while she thought of him by the nickname his friends gave him, he scarcely remembered who she was.
“I apologize,” she gasped. “Would you prefer Your Grace? Of course you’d prefer Your Grace. You are a Your Grace.” She was babbling, but she couldn’t seem to stop. “My mother died years ago and I have no idea how married couples address each other in private. Not that we’re truly married. I just . . . I’m sorry.”
A moment of ominous silence followed before he shoved a hand through his hair. “It is I who should apologize. You caught me by surprise. No one addresses me by that name other than my intimate friends.”
“Of course,” Mia said, forcing a smile. “You needn’tapologize. And as I said, my solicitor is fairly sure that he can have the marriage dissolved in a mere six months. There’s no need for us to become intimate in any fashion at all.” She drew out a folded sheet of paper from her reticule. “I drew up another explanation once I concluded that you hadn’t read the letter I initially wrote you.”
He took the sheet from her and skimmed it. “You want to marry me for six months, after which the marriage will end. And you expect no financial support either during or after the marriage.”
“Yes, that’s it,” she said, making her tone bright. Now that he understood, he could stop being angry. His eyes would probably fill with joy.
Instead, his mouth tightened, and slowly, methodically, he ripped her letter into pieces and dropped them on the floor.
“What are you doing?” Mia gasped.
“I plan to go through that farce we endured in the chapel only once in my life.”
“Why would you—what are you talking about?”
“Marriage. A mechanism by which two people are forced to remain in proximity for a lifetime. The truth is that your proposal made me see that a love match is the last thing in the world I’d want.”
“But—”
“As we have discussed, you are not who I would have chosen for myself,” he continued, his gaze drifting from her face to her shabby dress. “But there was always the chance that I would have made my father’s mistake, and married a beautiful woman who would collect lovers the way squirrels gather nuts.”
Mia could feel her face growing hot. There was part of her, the part that wrote love stories, that wanted to believe that not every man found her unlovely. The shallow, naïve side of her.
She raised her chin a notch. “Be that as it may, I don’t wish to remain married to you. You may not dream of a loving marriage, but I do hope for that someday. Your Grace.” The last two words were spoken with a touch of asperity.
He gave a crack of laughter. “You should have thought of that before you blackmailed me into marriage, Duchess. It seems your scheme has turned against you. I believe that is often the case.”
She stared at him, trying to find words. He was serious. He meant to keep her in the marriage. “Please,” she said, beginning to feel genuinely fearful. “I can see that you’re angry at me, and I know I deserve it. But mightn’t we be reasonable about this? I will happily offer proof of adultery, leaving both of us free to forget this marriage happened.”
“My mother spent the latter part of her life jaunting around the country with another man, incidentally, your father.” He leaned forward, his words clipped and furious. “I am neither mad nor incapacitated. My wife will live under my roof. She will never commit adultery.”
Mia took a deep breath. “But I don’t wish to live with you,” she explained. “I don’t consider us truly married.”
A grim smile touched his lips.
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