out acerbically. "Have you changed your mind about wanting to do business with him?"
"Not at all. We had dinner last night, and he is most interested in a proposal I made. I have hopes that he will join me in a promising venture." After a pause, Charles continued, "But I have… heard things that suggest that he is not an appropriate companion for a female of refinement."
"Really?" she asked with interest. "What kind of things?"
"I would not sully your ears with such stories," he said stiffly. "But he is not a man whom you should be alone with."
"The prince is Ross's friend, and I have found him to be very gentlemanly," she said, making no attempt to conceal her irritation. "Unless you can be more specific about his shortcomings, I have no intention of cutting the acquaintance."
"I will not have my wife defy me, Sara." Though
Charles's voice was low, the darkened carriage pulsed with barely restrained fury.
"I am not your wife yet, Charles." Sara was startled by his anger, which seemed out of proportion to the cause. "And if you are going to be unreasonable, perhaps we should reconsider marriage. We may not be as well suited as we thought."
"No!" He stopped, then swore a quiet oath under his breath. Choosing his words carefully, he said, "Forgive me, my dear. I do not wish to seem unreasonable. But Asiatics are an encroaching lot. Since they keep their own women secluded, they assume that the greater freedom of European women means immorality. While the prince is an excellent man in his way, I am concerned that he might misinterpret your well-bred ease of manner as license." His voice softened and he took her hand. "You are very precious to me. I can't bear the thought of that—that foreigner offering you insult."
Sara was silent, letting her hand rest passively in his. Is that how the Kafir saw her, as a wanton Western woman who might be available for dalliance? Her mouth tightened. The notion was an unpleasant one, but of no real importance, for Peregrine was merely a passing acquaintance, a brilliant shooting star who would soon be gone from her life.
What was important was the question of her marriage. If she wanted to withdraw from the betrothal, now was the time to do it, before wedding plans were set and invitations sent.
A husband had the right to expect his wife to submit to his wishes and desires, which was one reason why Sara had never had a strong desire to marry. Did she really want to put herself in the power of Charles Weldon? A man like Ross, with humor and an open, questing mind, would make a far more congenial husband. Perhaps the fact that she had never found a man like her cousin was the real reason she had never married.
While Charles was wealthy, well-bred, and handsome, he was cut from more conventional cloth. There was very little humor in him, and though he had traveled widely in his youth, his experiences had merely confirmed his belief in the superiority of all things British rather than broadening his mind. Moreover, tonight's irrational display of anger hinted that he might be a more difficult husband than she had bargained for.
After a brief, intense period of thought, she gave a wry smile. Charles's protectiveness was irritating and unnecessary, but it was well-intentioned. And this marriage meant so much to her father; she remembered how earnest the duke had been when he urged her to accept Weldon's proposal.
Concerned by her long silence, her betrothed squeezed her hand. "Sara? Please say that you forgive me for my temper."
"There is nothing to forgive, for I know you spoke from concern. But in the future, remember that I am quite capable of dealing with male impertinence." That kiss had been a result not of Peregrine's impropriety, but her own. It would not happen again. "But, Charles, perhaps we should discuss what we will expect of each other when we are married."
He released her hand. "What do you mean?"
Sara paused to collect her thoughts. "I'm not a young girl—I have
"Not at all. We had dinner last night, and he is most interested in a proposal I made. I have hopes that he will join me in a promising venture." After a pause, Charles continued, "But I have… heard things that suggest that he is not an appropriate companion for a female of refinement."
"Really?" she asked with interest. "What kind of things?"
"I would not sully your ears with such stories," he said stiffly. "But he is not a man whom you should be alone with."
"The prince is Ross's friend, and I have found him to be very gentlemanly," she said, making no attempt to conceal her irritation. "Unless you can be more specific about his shortcomings, I have no intention of cutting the acquaintance."
"I will not have my wife defy me, Sara." Though
Charles's voice was low, the darkened carriage pulsed with barely restrained fury.
"I am not your wife yet, Charles." Sara was startled by his anger, which seemed out of proportion to the cause. "And if you are going to be unreasonable, perhaps we should reconsider marriage. We may not be as well suited as we thought."
"No!" He stopped, then swore a quiet oath under his breath. Choosing his words carefully, he said, "Forgive me, my dear. I do not wish to seem unreasonable. But Asiatics are an encroaching lot. Since they keep their own women secluded, they assume that the greater freedom of European women means immorality. While the prince is an excellent man in his way, I am concerned that he might misinterpret your well-bred ease of manner as license." His voice softened and he took her hand. "You are very precious to me. I can't bear the thought of that—that foreigner offering you insult."
Sara was silent, letting her hand rest passively in his. Is that how the Kafir saw her, as a wanton Western woman who might be available for dalliance? Her mouth tightened. The notion was an unpleasant one, but of no real importance, for Peregrine was merely a passing acquaintance, a brilliant shooting star who would soon be gone from her life.
What was important was the question of her marriage. If she wanted to withdraw from the betrothal, now was the time to do it, before wedding plans were set and invitations sent.
A husband had the right to expect his wife to submit to his wishes and desires, which was one reason why Sara had never had a strong desire to marry. Did she really want to put herself in the power of Charles Weldon? A man like Ross, with humor and an open, questing mind, would make a far more congenial husband. Perhaps the fact that she had never found a man like her cousin was the real reason she had never married.
While Charles was wealthy, well-bred, and handsome, he was cut from more conventional cloth. There was very little humor in him, and though he had traveled widely in his youth, his experiences had merely confirmed his belief in the superiority of all things British rather than broadening his mind. Moreover, tonight's irrational display of anger hinted that he might be a more difficult husband than she had bargained for.
After a brief, intense period of thought, she gave a wry smile. Charles's protectiveness was irritating and unnecessary, but it was well-intentioned. And this marriage meant so much to her father; she remembered how earnest the duke had been when he urged her to accept Weldon's proposal.
Concerned by her long silence, her betrothed squeezed her hand. "Sara? Please say that you forgive me for my temper."
"There is nothing to forgive, for I know you spoke from concern. But in the future, remember that I am quite capable of dealing with male impertinence." That kiss had been a result not of Peregrine's impropriety, but her own. It would not happen again. "But, Charles, perhaps we should discuss what we will expect of each other when we are married."
He released her hand. "What do you mean?"
Sara paused to collect her thoughts. "I'm not a young girl—I have
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