Page 6 of A Kiss Gone Wylde
At his side, Miss Wylde bristled. “I thank you for your intervention, sir, but I will not be scolded by a stranger on the heels of having been accosted by one.” The set down was uttered with all the haughty disdain of a queen.
In that moment, Payne wanted to see her. He wanted to see her face clearly, not in this dim and shadowy light of a lantern. He wanted to see her in the bright light of day, or even in a glittering ballroom. He wanted to know every detail of it, as those icy words dripped from what he knew to be perfectly shaped, sweet tasting lips.
“It is my place, as a gentleman, to ensure that you get home safely, Miss Wylde. And it is my prerogative now,as your betrothed, to demand an explanation for this willful and reckless behavior.” Even as he uttered that statement, he knew that he sounded like a complete prig.
She opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it once more. And then clamped it shut. He imagined that she was literally chewing on her tongue to keep from uttering what she so clearly longed to say.
“My betrothed,” she hissed the words out between her teeth, her indignation unmistakable. “I was perfectly willing to weather the scandal, sir. No doubt my aunt would have made my excuses, shipped me back to my parents in Bath and I would have remained as I always was—a spinster with no prospects, albeit an infinitely more interesting one.”
That was not at all the response he had expected from her. “Miss Wylde—”
“Baron Davenport!”She interjected, mimicking his placating tone.
“Wainwright, if he thought you to be… unprotected, would pursue you. He’s livid that you marked him. Such an insult will not be forgiven.”
“We hardly run in the same circles!” She protested. “I will, in all likelihood, never encounter him again.”
“And when he creates opportunities for your paths to cross? When he shows up at parties and balls where you have been invited? You have made an enemy of him tonight and he will want to exact revenge for that! He would not take no for an answer and what you wished for would be irrelevant to his desires,” he tried to explain.
“How does he differ from any other man of my acquaintance? I had no wish to be betrothed to you and yet… here we are. You forced my hand!”
“We did kiss,” he pointed out. “Taking such a liberty with you, even had we not been caught, would have required an act of honor on my part!”
“Honor? That is precisely why every woman wishes to be married… to satisfy a man’s need for honor! How does that make you any different from him? My life must be altered entirely to appease your honor and his vanity!”
His own temper rising, he snapped at her, “You are an unreasonable, maddening creature!”
“And you are a highhanded, autocratic,arrogantbully!”
“Then we will be better off for parting company as soon as possible. Get in the barouche!”
“Fine!” She shouted.
“Fine!” He shouted back. It was hardly witty repartee but it was the best he could manage as furious as he was.
What his trusted servants, the coachman and footman who had been with him on so many of these excursions, thought of the display, he could not guess. But Jenkins, the footman, dutifully helped Mis Wylde into the vehicle without even glancing up at her.
Climbing up and taking the seat beside her, they both clung to opposite walls of the vehicle. How it was possible to create so much distance in the relatively small space inside a barouche was something of a wonder. But as they were underway, he realized that it was indeed possible to wage a battle without ever saying a word.
As the carriage rolled onward towards Mayfair, Payne found himself watching for a glimpse of her face every time they passed near one of the street lamps. How that could possibly matter to him when she was the most contrary creature he’d ever encountered, he had no idea. But he supposed if one were betrothed to a woman, one ought to bloody well know precisely what she looked like.
As the carriage rolled on, he said, “I would have your word, Miss Wylde, that you will never take such a risk with your safety again… Vauxhall is no place for a young woman alone and the Dark Walk is doubly so.”
“So I have gathered,” she agreed caustically. “It is a promise I will grant with full conviction and without hesitation. I’ve no wish to ever return there.”
Satisfied with her response, he added, “I will call on you at your aunt’s tomorrow. The noon hour, I think. It is a bit early but I am aware that Lady Marguerite’s drawing room is normally a very busy place to be.”
“Fine,” she agreed.
Tersely, Payne explained, “If we are to convince people that we mean to wed because we are madly enamored of one another to the point of ignoring all bounds of propriety… you may wish to expand your vocabulary beyond simply ‘fine’. It will not hurt. I promise.”
“With all due respect, you cannot be certain of that, my lord,” she answered. “It could be quite painful, indeed. I shall endeavor, however, to be suitably blinded by love when you arrive tomorrow.”
The carriage began to slow. The familiar and well kept streets of Mayfair in view. But beneath the canopy of the barouche, her face was still shadowed. When the vehicle came to a halt in front of Lady Marguerite’s palatial home, he disembarked to help her down. “Goodnight, Miss Wylde.”
“Goodnight, Lord Davenport.”
They parted more like enemies than like a betrothed couple. But as she climbed the steps to the house, the doors opened and light spilled out. It was quite obvious that her absence had been noted and the entire house was awake and awaiting her return.
