Second Chances: A Romance Writers of America Collection (Stark World 2.50)

His heart sank at the derision in her tone. "I wished to speak with you."

"I do not wish to speak with you. Surely that was obvious."

"It was." How could he get through to her? "I wanted--"

She whirled around. "And your desires are more important than mine? Your wants? I do not want to speak with you. I want to be left alone. I am in England for two months, and I want that time to be pleasant."

Two months? She needed to let him speak with her. She needed--

With a sound of frustration, she made to turn on her heel. His brain shut down and, panic rushing through him, he grabbed her arm.

Immediately, her expression closed. "Remove your hand."

The coldness of her voice chilled him more than the winter night. Immediately, he let her go. "My apologies, Miss Hargrove. It was not my intention--"

She laughed without mirth. "It never is."

"It was not my intention," he continued, ignoring the thread of annoyance her dismissal caused, "to deprive you of autonomy. I only ask ..." He paused. How to say? "I should like to explain."

"I should think we are past the stage of explanation, Lord March." As if realizing her error, she flushed. "I beg your pardon. Lord Edgington."

"Nonetheless," he said, persevering despite her glare. "I should like to explain. You did not allow me the opportunity before."

"I did not allow you?" she said. "I did not allow you? How, sir, was I to allow you when I was dragged off by my father, half-dressed and humiliated? Was I to allow you when you did not call upon me? When you did not, in fact, seek me out at all? Tell me, sir, when was I to allow you anything?" Her lips twisted bitterly. "I believe I allowed you enough."

"I am sorry," he said, unable to think of any other response.

She frowned. "What?"

He did not know how else to say it. "I am sorry. I should have handled it better. All of it."

"And that is to magically erase the past ten years of my life?"

"No. It is merely how I feel."

Still not looking at him, she picked up her skirt. "Well, I'm glad you've expressed how you feel. If you'll excuse me."

He couldn't let her go. "Miss Hargrove. I have still not explained."

"And I have said, I do not care for your explanation."

"Please, Miss Hargrove." He did not know how to make her stay, make her realize how much he needed to speak with her.

She hesitated.

An eternity passed while she decided. Finally, she inclined her head.

Relief rushed through him, and he held out his arm.

She looked at it and, quite deliberately, did not take it. Making her way to a stone bench, she seated herself. "Very well, my lord. I will listen."

Suppressing his admiration at her imperiousness, he said, "Miss Hargrove, perhaps we should go inside."

"No. You'll do this now, or not at all." Though her cheeks were flushed with cold, she sat on the bench as regal as a queen while she waited for him to begin speaking.

And, of course, now that he had her ear, he had no idea what to say.

EVER IMPASSIVE, THE EARL stared at her. Moments passed, filled only with the faint strains of music and laughter.