"Miss Spenser is refusing to marry me," he said in a cranky voice. "I expect you to show her the error of her ways. "
"I'm afraid I can't do that I want what's best for her, and I doubt you're it. "
"For God's sake! " Adrian shouted, goaded to distraction. "What the hell do you want from me?"
"When you figure it out, lei me know. In the meantime I have things to do. " He was about to walk past Rohan, when Lina appeared at the door, her black hair coming undone, a look of wrath on her perfect face.
"I'm going to kill you," she said. Pagett paused, looking back. "No, you're not. Leave him alone, Lady Whitmore. He needs to figure this out on his own.
"Don't you dare tell me what to do!" Her fury at Pagett seemed oddly misplaced. "This is between me and Lord Rohan. "
"No, it's between Charlotte and Lord Rohan. It's none of your business," Pagett returned. "This is your fault, for taking Miss Spenser to the Revels in the first place, for someone like Lord Rohan to prey upon. "
"Excuse me!" Adrian protested, but the two were facing off against each other, and he was forgotten.
"I brought her here to show her just how worthless men are. She was curious, and I thought she'd be better off knowing that she wasn't missing anything," Lina said furiously.
"How very altruistic of you. Lady Whitmore. Had I known you were capable of such charitable gestures I could have come up with a number of ways you could better use your misguided energy. "
"I can think of any number of ways. . . "
Adrian slipped into the house, going in search of Charlotte once more. Their angry voices carried after him, and he stopped, glancing back at them.
"Why did you kiss me?" Lina was saying, glaring at him.
The unruffled vicar was looking ruffled indeed. "I believe you were the one who kissed me. Inappropriately, I might point out. "
"I started it, you finished it. "
"I thought you needed a lesson," he said stiffly.
"A lesson in what? Kissing? I assure you I've kissed a great many men. "
"I know your reputation. Lady Whitmore. I'm certain you've lost count of how many men you've. . . kissed. "
"And what business is it of yours?" she demanded,
“Absolutely none. "
Idiots, Adrian thought, taking the marble stairs two at a time. When he slammed open Charlotte's door she was alone in the bed.
He came and stood over the bed. "You're marrying me. I'm not giving you a choice in the matter. I won't have my child born a bastard. "
-I won't have my child be the son of a swiving, mean-spirited, libidinous troll who—"
"Troll?" he echoed, momentarily distracted. "Surely not a troll, my precious. "
"Troll," she said firmly. "I won't have you. "
"You have no choice. He's my child, and he's not being born on the wrong side of the blanket. I've spoken to Pagett. Six o'clock at the parish church. I'm not taking no for an answer. If you're not there I'll drag you there by your hair. ”
She reached for the closest thing she could find, a heavy book, and she threw it at him, but he ducked. He was already in rough enough shape—another few days and there wouldn't be enough left of him to mangle.
He'd calm her down once he got her naked. If he had to haul her out of bed and carry her to the church in his arms she was going to marry him. This was making him crazy, and the only way he knew to calm things down was to get her back in bed with him. Legally. Permanently
In the meantime he needed to keep as far away from her as possible, or they'd either end up back in bed together or she'd kill him. And he wasn't sure which he preferred.
Charlotte looked at the door, vibrating with fury. How dare he think he could just come in and order her about? He thought she was just going to show up at the church? Ridiculous.