The Bride Goes Rogue (The Fifth Avenue Rebels #3)(23)

He closed his mouth abruptly, biting off the words. Because he didn’t wish to offend her? Too late for that.

She straightened and said in a rush, “I’m, what? Naive? Silly? Desperate? It must have given you quite a laugh that I came so willingly—”

“Gorgeous.” He blew out another plume of white smoke. “I was going to say gorgeous.”

Mouth suddenly dry, she swallowed. The unexpected compliment dulled her anger somewhat.

“So it only stands to reason that we were attracted to one another,” he finished.

“I counted three other Madames de Pompadour last night. You could’ve ended up with any of those women.”

“I never noticed any of them. Only you.”

Ignoring the giddiness that fluttered in her chest at the revelation, she said, “Which means this was a coincidence. Nothing more than a terrible coincidence.”

“Terrible? As I recall you quite enjoyed yourself.”

He looked so smug, so positively righteous sitting in that chair, that she couldn’t resist serving it back to him. “You quite enjoyed yourself, too. My clothing bears the stains to prove it.”

His nostrils flared in response, and he leaned forward to stab out his cigarette in the crystal ashtray on the table. “Fine, we’ve established we are compatible in our desires. It means nothing because I still won’t marry you.”

“Nor I you.”

He gave her a disbelieving look, like she was lying, and her skin prickled, irritation mounting again. She shot to her feet and gripped the chair back. “It’s true. I don’t wish to marry you any longer. I only allowed myself to consider it before I knew where things stood between us, but you settled that straight quick. Twelve months too late.”

He held up his hands, palms out, looking almost contrite for a moment. “This has not been easy on you and I sincerely apologize for it. I never for one minute thought you were waiting on me. I never thought anyone even remembered that betrothal agreement once my father died, let alone planned to honor it. Your father never said a word in all the years since.”

“Perhaps we were thinking you were a man of honor. A man of your word.”

Now it was his turn to appear irritated as he stood up. “First of all, I am a man of my word. It was never my word given on that agreement, it was my father’s. Second, I’m not an honorable man, which is why I ejaculated all over you last night and then invited you here. I had every intention of seducing you again in the hopes that I might engage you as my mistress.”

“Mistress!” She clenched her jaw so hard it was a miracle it didn’t pop. “You have some nerve, assuming I would ever agree.”

“As I said, I’m entirely dishonorable—which is why I’m doing you a favor by refusing that betrothal contract. You would hate being married to a man like me.”

Sakes alive, the absolute delusion of this selfish man. “A favor.” She nodded, her lips twisted in a mocking smile. “Indeed, thank you for allowing me to endure a second season, where everyone will be wondering why I’m not already married. Indeed, what a gift. I can hardly wait.”

“As I said, I didn’t know. But interesting that your father didn’t push the betrothal until recently, when I turned Clarke Holdings around and began making a nice profit. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“You’re saying this is motivated by money?”

“Isn’t everything?” His tone implied she was a fool if she thought otherwise.

“I feel sorry for you,” she blurted. “You think everyone is out to get you or trying to steal from you. What a cynical, sad and awful way to live.”

A muscle moved in his jaw, and his eyes burned as he stared at her. Still, he said nothing.

Her hands flopped uselessly at her sides. This was a disaster. Arguing with him accomplished nothing, and she needed to put distance between them. “Obviously we must pretend as if last night never happened.”

The infuriating man had the nerve to shrug. “I told you, I’m dishonorable. I won’t marry you to save your reputation, so I don’t care whether you tell your father or not.”

“Well, rest assured I have no intention of telling him—or anyone else. Last night was a mistake. Tonight was a mistake. I never should have come here.”

“Yet you did.” His intense gaze did a slow sweep of her body, one that made her feel exposed. Like her clothes were too tight, but in the very best way. “You were hoping for more of the same.”

Now she was thinking of last night, too, memories of his feverish kisses and rough hands. The naughty words and the confident manner in which he’d pleasured her. She had hoped for more of the same, but it couldn’t happen, not after learning King Louis was him.

“I need to go.” She turned and bumped into a chair in her haste to get to the door.

“Say hello to your father for me.”

She paused, curiosity getting the better of her. “What happened between you two? It’s clear you don’t like him. Did a business deal go bad?”

The lines of his face sharpened, and she knew there was something he wasn’t telling her. “Ask your father. No doubt he’ll be more than happy to fill you in—right after you tell him about last night.”

An awful suspicion prickled over her skin. Had his surprise been a ruse tonight? Was this part of some grander plan? “Did you . . . seek me out last night as some sort of revenge against my father?”