Page 53 of The Theory of Earls (The Beautiful Barringtons 1)

Winthrop took her hand.

She swallowed in disgust at his moist touch.

“Margaret is quite recovered from her earlier illness. I believe it was the excitement over becoming your wife which led to her earlier distress,” Aunt Agnes assured him.

“I’m certain of it.” Winthrop flashed Margaret a bland smile, but anger tightened the lines around his mouth and eyes. She’d been correct. Hewasstupid and cruel, a combination found most often in wild pigs. He considered Margaret to have committed a grave offense by puking during his marriage proposal.

Itwasintended as an insult. So is the assumption he thinks I’d be pleased to marry him.

Winthrop waddled, girlish shoes turned outward so that he resembled more a duck than the pear he was, down the steps to his waiting carriage. He’d taken her aunt’s arm, pointedly ignoring Margaret, leaving her to trail a few steps behind. She took in the bottle-green coat and matching trousers Winthrop wore along with the feminine shoes and wondered if his valet didn’t burst into laughter when dressing his master. She thought the unknown valet’s care of Winthrop to be a much greater sin than Margaret tossing up her breakfast at his marriage proposal.

Entering the carriage, Margaret seated herself next to her aunt while Winthrop settled opposite them. He mopped at his brow, pushing the stained handkerchief into an unseen pocket and plopped down, rocking the carriage with his weight. He stretched out his legs in her direction, crushing the edge of her gown.Purposefully.

Margaret dared a glance in his direction.

Winthrop’s eyes ran over Margaret with unconcealed dislike, promising future punishment for all the ways she’d offended him. He couldn’t wait to make her miserable; she could see the truth of it in every line of his sweating body.

He detests me.

She looked away, pretending to observe the view outside the window.

“I don’t think a long engagement is necessary do you, Lord Winthrop? Given the age of the bride?”

Must Aunt Agnes sound so hopeful?

Winthrop gave a soft chuckle. “Margaret and I are mature adults. I’m sure a short engagement would suit us both.” He shot her a pointed look, daring her to object.

He is already calculating how to spend my dowry.

“And I would like an heir before the end of the year.”

The mere thought of Winthrop bedding her after she’d been with Welles was so repulsive Margaret’s hand fell to her stomach to stop the sudden roll of nausea. She cautioned herself to remain perfectly still and keep her features composed.

“As well you should.” Aunt Agnes concurred, searching Margaret’s face for any reaction she might take issue with.

Margaret’s eyes fell to her lap, reminding herself not to flinch as they continued to speak about her as if she were merely a broodmare for Winthrop to sweat on.

Her eyes fluttered closed, remembering Welles pulling up her chemise, pressing his mouth to her skin as he moved up her prone body, worshipping every inch of her. She doubted Winthrop would show any woman such care.

Focus, Margaret.

She forced her thoughts back to the matter at hand, opening her eyes to see Winthrop watching her. His escort presented a small problem in that he may stick to her side like an immense burr beneath a saddle, perspiring over everyone, especially Margaret. She would need to escape his attention and that of her aunt for a short period of time to be compromised properly. The duchess would have gaming tables set up. Winthrop liked cards, though according to rumor, he wasn’t very good at faro or whist.

Hopefully, she wouldn’t have to think of how to get rid of Winthrop. If she was lucky, her pear-shaped problem would take care of itself.

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