The Lady Unmasked by Aydra Richards

Author:Aydra Richards [Richards, Aydra]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-10-03T18:30:00+00:00

Simon sipped from the glass of whisky in his hand and said, succinctly, “No.”

“I beg your pardon?” Though she had smoothed it out very nearly at once, it had been gratifying to see the flicker of confusion that had crossed Lottie’s face.

“I said no. You’re a clever woman; I’m quite certain you’re capable of divining the meaning of so simple a word.” He gave a vague gesture with his glass. “I do have to admit it was a well-planned effort. You ignore me for a week, and then come home at last only to lay out your proposed terms for our marriage in such reasonable terms.” Another sip; he had to keep hold of his glass or he might well give into the temptation to throttle her. “Very generous of you. I don’t accept.”

“Lord Clybourne—”

“Oh, surely Simon is appropriate.”

“Simon, then.” He thought he heard the clench of her teeth in her voice, though somehow she maintained that bland, ladylike smile. “If you insist.”

“I do, in fact, insist,” he said, delivered in the perfectly snide cadence he had aimed for, and he thought there was a jump of a muscle just beneath her left eye. “Do you know, Lottie,” he said, idly, swirling the liquor in his glass, “It amazes me that such an intelligent woman can be so very, very ignorant.”

“Ignorant!” There it was, the flare of temper behind her eyes. Perhaps he was just particularly suited to knocking askew that disguise she wore like battle armor. “I don’t believe it is ignorant to suggest that we might conduct a harmonious marriage.”

“Mm. No,” he allowed. “But the methods by which we might conduct a harmonious marriage remain in question.” Simon allowed himself to linger sardonically over the syllables; a scathing expression of his disdain.

Lottie’s fingers twitched where they were laid, very properly, over her lap. “With all due respect,” she said, and the saccharine sweetness of her tone implied that none was the amount of respect to which she felt him entitled, “I disagree. I think it quite reasonable.”

Reasonable, perhaps, if they were any other two people in the whole of the world. “I don’t want that sort of marriage,” he said. “Not with you.”

“You didn’t want any sort of marriage with me,” she said, and her voice had reverted to that seamless, dry tone which precluded even the vaguest hint of emotion. Even the flex of her fingers had been restored to flawless serenity. Still as a statue she sat, her back set in so straight a line that even the most demanding of governesses could hardly have found fault with her posture.

It hurt just to look at her, and his free hand pulled from its casual drape over the back of the couch to rub over the sore spot lingering in his chest. And it took effort—so much bloody effort—to keep his tone light as he said, “That is not true.”

“Pray do not insult me by suggesting otherwise,” she said, and her eyes had gone glassy. She looked through him rather than at him.

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