The wind was shifting.
He knew that sounded odd, they were in the drawing room, the winter wind whipping the skies outside wasn’t actually leaking through the windows. In fact, the duke’s home was warm to the point of cozy.
But Isabella looked like a storm and Bash was about to be hit with its full force.
Which was damned amusing. That’s what the man got for falling in love before he married.
But if Isabella won…he wouldn’t marry the princess after all.
Which filled him with…disappointment.
When the hell had that happened?
Coming into this meeting today, he’d found her constant prattle off-putting but the truth was…she was smart and damned interesting.
He looked over at her, a satisfied smile tugging at her lips. He’d smile like that too if he’d had the victory she’d just earned.
And he had to confess, he’d underestimated her.
She was what he thought. She was loud, meaning she didn’t back demurely into a corner, and she was used to getting her way. But it wasn’t that she was spoiled like he thought…more that she knew how to achieve what she wanted. She was intelligent, and brave, and…damn. He liked the challenge she presented.
He leaned forward, touching her arm. She jerked away, giving him a dark glare.
“Should we pour wine as we watch this conversation unfold?” He jerked his chin toward Isabella and Bash.
“It’s ten in the morning,” she admonished, rolling her eyes. “Don’t you know anything about proper behavior for a lady?”
He knew. He just didn’t care.
He was rarely up this early. The club kept him out to the wee hours of the morning most days, so he rarely rose before noon.
Distantly he heard Isabella berating her husband. Words like rake, and unpolished filtered into his thoughts but rather than listen to the barbs thrown at him, he watched Abigail.
The way her tongue darted out again to wet her lips and her throat worked even as her rich brown hair caught the light.
“I know you’re concerned about her reputation and her safety, but this plan is…” Isabella’s hands came out to her sides, “Ill-conceived.”
Abigail gave him another satisfied smile, the mischievous gleam in her eyes attractive as hell. “I’ve changed my mind. I’ll take that wine after all.”
Imp, he thought again. But he stood and poured the wine into two glasses, using Bash’s personal stock, which he kept on the sideboard.
He carried the two glasses over, handing one to Abigail as the other couple continued to talk, oblivious of their audience. He clinked his glass against hers. “No matter how this day ends, I would just like you to know this morning has been…interesting. Intriguing even.”
“Intriguing?” Her brows rose. “Are you complimenting me now? After everything you’ve said?”
“Princess.” He sat again. “I’ve not said a word against you this entire conversation. If you think back, the only one throwing barbs is you.”
Her mouth opened, then closed, and opened again only to snap shut. “I must confess that you have a point.”
Had she conceded ground? He took a sip of his wine. “Then let me make another. You have a substantial dowry but no title and no reputation. If you don’t want to wed me, what are your other options?” She opened her mouth, but he held up a finger. “Don’t be hasty. Really think.”
She frowned at him. “You’re saying I must choose either a bad husband or spinsterhood and be content I got the best of the worst.”
He shrugged, but he inwardly flinched. Because the woman had a way with words. “However you wish to see it. But perhaps you are being hasty in rejecting my suit.”
She shook her head. “I’m not. I’ll marry for love, as my sisters have done, or not at all. I didn’t do anything wrong, and I won’t be punished for others perceptions. I don’t care what everyone else thinks I should have for a future.” Then she turned away again.
He grimaced. Love? What a silly idea. Marry for love. Look at his friend being cowed by his wife. Was such blind love what people strived for?