To Bed a Beauty (Courtship Wars 2)

“Yes…I would.”

“Very well. I’ll send a footman to let you know when I will come to collect you.”

She shook her head. “You needn’t go to such trouble, Drew. I will borrow Winifred’s carriage to travel to London.”

“Don’t be absurd, sweeting. It is no trouble.”

Stiffening again, Roslyn returned his gaze directly. “I have no intention of traveling anywhere with you.”

That hollow, sickening sensation returned to claw at Drew. He hesitated, debating whether to press her when she was still so upset at him. “Then allow me to send my carriage for you.”

“That would be inappropriate since we are no longer betrothed.”

“Roslyn…” Drew dragged his fingers through his hair again. “I told you I was sorry.”

Her lips pressed together for a moment before she smiled faintly. “Your apologies matter little to me, Drew. Our betrothal is at an end. I trust you will notify the papers?”

“You don’t mean it-”

Her gaze turned even cooler. “Pray do me the courtesy of believing my sincerity. I will never wed you. And I won’t remain in a sham of a betrothal merely to placate the gossips.”

Drew felt his heart lurch, slamming hard against the constricted wall of his chest. He wanted fiercely to argue with her, to make Roslyn change her mind immediately. But remembering her loathing for arguments, he settled for reasoning with her. “You know a broken betrothal will only stain your reputation.”

“No doubt. But I will suffer the consequences. For now I want nothing more to do with you.”

With great dignity, she stood. “If you find Constance, then please inform me. Otherwise, you are not welcome here at Danvers Hall.”

Drew watched as she walked from the room, regal, queenly, dispassionate. Her pronouncement had seemed so final. And so had her declaration that she didn’t want him for her husband.

His foremost response was dread; dark and cold, it curled inside him at the thought of losing Roslyn. He couldn’t allow their betrothal to end, for how could he convince her to love him?

But no, Drew told himself, willing his feeling of panic to subside. He wasn’t admitting defeat. Roslyn was overwrought, upset-and justifiably angry at him. He just had to allow her time to reconsider.

For now he would suspend his efforts to woo her, but he would change her mind about their betrothal, Drew promised himself. Roslyn would wed him in the end, and she would come to love him.

Knotting his jaw, he strode from the library, making for his carriage. Yet he couldn’t dismiss the cold, coiling snake of fear in his gut, telling him that he was already too late.

Chapter Eighteen

The sad tale of Sir Rupert and Constance only convinces me further that gentlemen love their mistresses more readily than their wives.

– Roslyn to Fanny

“Fanny!” Roslyn said in surprise two mornings later when her friend swept into the Danvers Hall library. “I didn’t expect you to call on me this week. I wrote to you yesterday-”

“I know,” Fanny said, waving Roslyn’s letter at her. “That is why I have come, my dear-to discover if you have lost your senses.”

“Lost my senses?” Roslyn repeated, closing the book she was reading.

“I think perhaps you must have done so if you broke off your betrothal to t

he Duke of Arden.”

Roslyn made no reply, merely waited as Fanny settled herself in a chair and continued.

“I admit I was shocked, Roslyn, that you would throw away the chance to become a duchess and enjoy a lifetime of ease and privilege.”

“You know I don’t care for such trappings,” she said finally as she moved to sit across from Fanny.