‘Do you have to rub it in?’ she complained, rubbing at her arms. ‘Don’t you understand how much it hurts already to know that they could do such a thing to me?’
Of course he understood. Didn’t she see that was exactly why he’d spent that sleepless night in the barn, working out ways and means to see the pair of them destroyed? Utterly destroyed!
He tried to take her hand again. She hid it behind her back as though she couldn’t bear to let him touch her.
‘Well anyway,’ she said firmly, ‘there isn’t any point in arguing about something that won’t happen. For we will not be getting married.’
‘Why do you persist in saying that?’ He was starting to feel as if he was standing on quicksand. No matter what argument he put forth to smooth away the obstacles in their path, she persisted in trying to avoid walking down it with him.
‘Because we cannot possibly marry.’
‘I don’t see why.’ He’d never gone to such lengths for a woman in his life. He’d forfeited the wager, and he was now sacrificing his pride by standing here arguing with her about what should be a private matter in front of his family. What did she want from him? What more could he do?
‘For heaven’s sake, I didn’t know who you were when I proposed!’
The way he saw it, she knew him better than anyone else ever had. It was only his title he’d hidden from her. Not who he really was.
‘I don’t know why you are being so stubborn about this,’ she complained. ‘You told me how much you hated women trying to trap you into marriage.’
‘What? When did I say any such thing?’
‘Practically the whole of that first day we were together. You accused me of being in league with Aunt Charity to do so.’
‘Not in so many words,’ he replied uncomfortably, aware that he might actually have planted the seeds of doubt in her mind that were bearing such bitter fruit today.
‘But it was what you believed.’
‘Not for very long,’ he pointed out. ‘I soon worked out that the plot was against you, not me. And that I was dragged into it purely by chance.’
‘Yes, but it infuriated you, nonetheless. Now that I know you are a duke I can see why. And also why you cannot allow this foolish betrothal to stand.’
Foolish? His feelings might sound foolish to her, perhaps. But there were other reasons for the marriage which she must surely appreciate. Since they were all of a practical nature. And she was the most practical female he’d ever met.
‘Then may I just remind you of the advantages of letting this betrothal stand? Once we are married I will be able to restore your inheritance—’
‘Oh,’ she gasped. ‘So that is what this is all about. My inheritance!’ Her face went white, but her eyes blazed with indignation. ‘Yes, you... I remember now...you only started looking on me with interest once I told you about it. You—’ She sat down hastily, one hand pressed to her mouth. As though she felt sick.
Not that she could possibly feel as sick as he did.
How could she accuse him of only wanting to marry her to get his hands on her money? How could she ignore everything he’d done for her, everything they’d been through together?
If that was what she thought of him, really thought of him, then they didn’t have any future, did they?
He stalked to the window and stared out into the blackness. The same blackness that was swirling within him.
‘Miss Carstairs, I beg your pardon,’ he said, turning to face them all again. His face had turned hard. And his eyes were so cold they might have been chiselled from ice. ‘It appears I have been labouring under a misapprehension. Naturally, if you have changed your mind about wishing to marry me, then you have the right to cry off. It is perfectly acceptable since it is an established fact,’ he said, with a cynical twist to his mouth, ‘that women change their minds as swiftly and unpredictably as the weather changes in spring.’
It felt as though he’d just plunged a dagger into her stomach. For a while there, when they’d been arguing, he’d begun to seem like the Gregory she’d thought she knew.
Now he’d turned back into the Duke of Halstead.
‘You need only say the word, Miss Carstairs, to end this farcical betrothal.’
Farcical? Was that how he saw it?
Well, of course he did. She was a nobody. She still couldn’t really understand why he’d kept on insisting they had to get married. Everyone knew he never wanted to marry anyone ever again—let alone her. And it was farcical for two people who’d only known each other for such a short time to get married. Especially two people from such different social spheres.