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“Yes, of course—”

“And she has been fully trained at Beauford Abbey under the watch of Lady Wednesbury.”

“Indeed—”

“No man could find a better match than her,” Mr. Fisher concluded, lacing his hands across his stomach.

Roman fought the temptation to laugh. Mr. Fisher had no need to persuade him of the suitability of his daughter. He knew what an excellent wife she would make already. His quiet enquiries about her had left him in no doubt she would make an excellent marchioness.

So why the devil was he dallying? With Fisher in Bath, negotiations could start.

The butler entered the room and set down a tray of tea then offered out a silver platter with a note upon it. Roman’s heart sank when he recognized the scrawling handwriting of his aunt’s housekeeper.

“When did this arrive?” Roman asked.

“Only five minutes ago, my lord.”

Taking the letter, Roman unfolded it, and muttered a curse under his breath. He dropped the letter to the plate and rose swiftly.

Mr. Fisher’s eyebrows rose. “Is all well?”

“Forgive me, Mr. Fisher...a matter with my aunt. I must make haste.”

“Well, uh, if it is urgent, you must indeed. But, Lord Rochdale, we really do need to make time to have a proper discussion.”

“Absolutely, Mr. Fisher. I could not agree more.” He looked to the butler who already had his gloves and hat ready. He took his hat. “Have my horse saddled.”

“I already sent word, my lord.” The butler’s stoic expression betrayed nothing but Roman swore he could see amusement in the man’s eyes if he looked close enough.

Clementine Musgrave said leap and, of course, Roman was leaping. She’d foiled his well-laid plans yet again.

Chapter Fourteen

The thunderous look on Roman’s face was nothing short of magnificent. If she were a servant who had spilled tea on a Louis XVI chair or a land manager who had charged the tenants the wrong amount of rent, she’d be terrified. What did it take for a man to create such an aura? Did he practice it in the mirror? Was it simply natural for his face to be set so?

Clem suspected the latter. Roman would never do anything as silly as pose in front of a mirror unlike her and her sisters who were guilty of practicing many different poses as children.

As adults too, on occasion. AndI do not give a fig about what you think of meexpression was a useful weapon in a Musgrave’s arsenal.

“What happened, Musgrave?” he demanded after taking three quick strides across the drawing room floor.

She should have known he was on his way when the dogs had been ushered swiftly outside by the gardener. Not that she minded. It put temptation to stroke them far away from her.

What a shame temptation had returned in the form of the one man her family loathed.

Unfortunately, despite his furrowed brow and set jaw and demands to know quite why she currently sat with one leg propped upon a footstool and bandaged so tightly she was not certain her foot still existed, and despite the exceedingly close call they had suffered at the hands of their aunts, and despite her having minimal interest in the opposite sex since her failed engagement...

He still tempted.

Clem sighed. There were a lot of despites. And a lot of temptation. When she closed her eyes at night, she imagined what might have happened had their aunts not arrived. Would he have put his lips to hers? Wrapped his hands around her waist? Maybe trailed a finger down her decolletage? She tensed against a shiver and held his fierce gaze.

“It’s lovely to see you, too.”

He eyed her foot through a narrowed gaze as though it had offended him indeed. From her sitting position, he towered over her. When he folded his arms, she swore he took up half of the airy room. If there was air in here, she struggled to draw it into her lungs.

“What happened?” he repeated.

“Well, I hurt my ankle.” She wriggled her toes, encased only in stockings as she could not slip on neither her boots nor the slippers she’d brought with her, thanks to the swelling. She supposed at least there was nothing quite so unbecoming as a foot the size of an elephant’s. It seemed unlikely he would revert to whatever strange mood had brought him so close to kissing her the other day.


Tags: Samantha Holt Historical