Page 25 of Sir Hugo Seeks a Wife
He didn’t budge.“Not so fast, my girl.We have a proposal to discuss.”
“I refused you.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Well, I’m refusing you now.”
Another thing he ignored.“What you said was that you were no fit bride for me.”
“I’m not.”
“I assume there’s a man in your past.”
“Damn you, assume what you like.”Flashing dark eyes sparked heat in his blood.“I don’t have to explain myself.I don’t owe you anything.You’re a stranger.”
“Not so.”He withstood her scolding.Did she but know it, her agitation betrayed how badly he rattled her.“Unless you’re in the habit of kissing men you don’t know.”
She squared her shoulders.“How do you know I’m not?”
He cut the air with one hand.“Because you kiss like a woman who’s out of practice.”
This time, her glare came close to setting him on fire.“I apologise that I’m not up to your usual standards.”
He responded with a wry laugh.“You know as well as I do that I loved kissing you.Just as you loved kissing me.You’ll love it when I take you to bed, too.”
“Sir Hugo, I refuse to—”
“Don’t get all prim on me now.I want you.You want me.Nothing could be simpler.What’s complicated is that you’re torturing yourself about your supposed past sins.You’re convinced they put you out of the running to become Lady Brinsmead.”
She went back to looking stern.“You’re a rich man.”
“Middling,” he said.“You won’t suffer for the lack of a good warm coat or a hearty meal on the table.”
“That’s not what I mean.You’re a rich man from a good family.”
“Well, Aunty May is a trifle eccentric, and a cousin who’s a vicar lost his living when he pawned the church silver to back a nag at Epsom.Otherwise, yes, the Brinsmead name is respected in North Yorkshire.”
His nonsense didn’t make her smile.“Take me seriously, blast you.You’re in London to find a suitable woman to marry.A woman fit to bear the next generation of Brinsmeads and bring them up to be good citizens.”
“I suppose so.”
“Rich, well-bred men want sweet little wives who have led exemplary lives.”
She was right.Or at least that had been his plan when he arrived in London.But since he’d encountered a fiery, dark-haired woman who was set on resisting his attentions, his plans had changed.Hearing Athene list the qualities most men sought in a bride, he couldn’t help but feel that the conventional choice sounded intolerably dull.Dull.Dull.Dull.
“Is that so?”
“Itisso,” she responded with unhidden impatience.“In fact, I can’t imagine a less appropriate wife for you than me.Rich baronets from prominent families don’t marry shady wenches who work for their living.They don’t marry shopgirls.They don’t marry women who lie about their identity.Women closer to thirty than eighteen.”
Athene suited her.Even as she outlined her unsuitability to become his wife, she looked like such a goddess.Her words might be humble.Her manner was as proud as an empress’s.“You seem to be an expert.”
Her chin tilted with the defiance that had caught his attention from the start.“More than you can imagine.”Her voice hardened.“Most of all, men like you marry girls who are virgins.”
Chapter 8
A maiden’s virtue is treasure indeed.
The world is built upon this creed.
