An Unwilling Conquest (Regencies 7)

Love—the emotion she knew he felt for her but was determined to deny.

It wasn’t good enough—it would never be good enough.

She whirled on her heel and marched to the door.

Harry swore. Buttoning his shirt, he started after her. “This is crazy! I’ve offered for you, you demented woman! It’s what you’ve been after ever since I hauled you out of that damned carriage!”

Lucinda had reached the door. She swung around. “If you’re so adept at reading my mind, then you’ll understand perfectly why I’m throwing you out!”

She gripped the doorknob, turned it and yanked. Nothing happened. She stared at the door. “Where’s the key?”

Thoroughly distracted, Harry automatically reached into his breeches pocket. “Here.”

Lucinda blinked, then grabbed the key and rattled it into the keyhole.

Harry watched her in disbelief. “Damn it—I’ve given you a proposal—what more do you want?”

Her hand on the knob, Lucinda drew herself up and turned to face him. “I don’t want to be offered for because of some social technicality. I don’t want to be rescued, or…or protected or married out of pity! What I want—” Abruptly, she halted and dragged in a deep breath. Then she lifted her eyes to his and deliberately stated, “What I want is to be married for love.”

Harry stiffened. His face hardened. “Love is not considered an important element for marriage within our class.”

Lucinda pressed her lips together, then succinctly stated, “Balderdash.” She flung open the door.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Harry ran his fingers through his hair.

“I know very well what I’m talking about,” Lucinda averred. None better—she loved him with all her heart and soul. Glancing about, she spied his coat and cravat by the daybed. She flew across the room and pounced on them.

Harry turned to face her, blocking the doorway as she bustled back.

“There.” Lucinda crammed the expensive coat and cravat into his arms. “Now get out!”

Harry drew in a steadying breath. “Lucinda—”

“Out!”

Without warning, Lucinda pushed hard in the middle of his chest. Harry staggered back, over the threshold.

Lucinda grabbed the door. “Goodbye, Mr Lester! Rest assured I’ll bear your instructions as to the interests of your set in mind in the coming weeks!”

With that, she slammed the door and locked it.

The fury that had sustained her abruptly drained. Slumping back against the door, she covered her face with her hands.

Harry glared at the white-painted panels. He considered forcing his way back in—then he heard a stifled sob. His heart wrenched—racked by frustration, he stuffed it back behind his inner door and slammed that shut as well. His lips set in a grim line, he turned on his heel and marched down the corridor. He caught sight of himself in a mirror. Abruptly, he halted and shrugged on his coat, then draped the creased cravat about his throat.

It took him three tries before he could achieve anything remotely resembling decency. With a snort, he turned and headed for the stairs.

He had made an offer. She had refused.

The damned woman could go to hell by herself.

He was finished with being her protector.

He was finished with her.

DISCOVERED, two hours later, with dark shadows under swollen red eyes, Lucinda could hardly deny Em her confidence.

Her hostess was stunned. “I can’t understand it. What the devil’s wrong with him?”