When the Marquess Met His Match by Laura Lee Guhrke - An American Heiress in London 01 - When the Marquess Met His Match Page B

hurt her, damn you! You’re handsome, you’re glib, you’re witty, you can even—sometimes—be charming, and you’re a man of vast experience who knows a great deal about women. Rosalie’s out of her depth with a man like you. She’ll fall madly in love with you, only to discover after you’ve married her that you never loved her.”
    He didn’t reply. He didn’t even try, and his silence only flared her temper higher.
    “She’ll realize you never cared for her at all and wanted her only for her money. She’ll learn you never had any intention of honoring the marriage vows you took, and that the promise you made to love and cherish her was a lie. And the part about forsaking all others? When you return to whichever mistress you happen to have at the moment, she’ll realize that was a lie, too.”
    She could hear her voice shaking, but she pressed on. “At first, she’ll hope her love will change you, and when that doesn’t work, she’ll be heartbroken and disillusioned, with no choice but to stand by, powerless, expected to be a good and proper wife while you spend her money on your pleasures and she tries to convince herself that your behavior is just something all British lords do and she has to accept it because she’s stuck with you for good. Now are my reasons clear?”
    She stopped, out of breath, and they stared at each other as the lilting strains of the waltz gave way to the lively cue of a polka. It seemed an eternity before he spoke.
    “I never realized Featherstone was such a bastard.”
    She blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
    “I didn’t know him all that well, granted, but I always thought him an amusing, delightful fellow. I knew about his women, of course, but I didn’t know you, or why the two of you were estranged, and I didn’t really dwell on Featherstone’s qualities as a husband. If someone had asked me to consider him in that light, I daresay I’d have offered a different opinion of the man.”
    Belinda lifted her chin a notch. “Leave my late husband out of this. He has nothing to do with it.”
    “He has everything to do with it when I’m being tarred with the same brush. You don’t know me well enough to judge what sort of man I am or what sort of husband I would be, but you’ve formed a very definite opinion on the subject. You think I’m like him.”
    “Are you saying you would be any different?”
    “Damned right I’d be different. As I told you, I’m prepared to make any woman I’m considering fully aware of my situation and the financial aspects of our union beforehand. And I would never expect fidelity from my wife without offering it in return. And when a man has a beautiful woman who adores him waiting at home, he’s not only a prize bastard for going elsewhere, he’s also a fool.”
    “Oh.” Belinda didn’t know what else to say. She’d probably said far too much already. She bit her lip, assailed by sudden doubt, something she didn’t often have cause to feel, and she looked away.
    “You sized me up before I’d even set foot inside your drawing room,” he went on, “and I’ll wager that not once since then have you wondered if your assessment might be inflexible, unfair, or just plain wrong.”
    His words echoed Nancy’s from earlier in the evening, but this time, she could not dismiss the notion so easily. Was she being unfair? There was only one way to find out. “You think I’m wrong about you? Then prove it. Agree to my proposition and show me you’re not the man I’ve pegged you to be.”
    “Is that even possible? You’ve buried your knife so deep in my back, I’m not sure I can get it out again.”
    “Take it as a challenge. You said yourself you can never resist a challenge.”
    A wry smile curved his mouth at having his own words used against him. “So I did. Very well, I’ll veer off Rosalie if you agree to help me find someone more suitable.”
    “And will you promise not to place any young woman at risk to be