Page 33 of Enticing Miss Eugenie Villaret
She shook her head.“Non.”
What the hell was she up to? “What do you mean, no?”
“You ask a great many unnecessary questions, my lord. I already told you I wish to marry someone who treats me properly.” She glanced up at her hands.
Will hoped he wasn’t making a mistake by letting them go. Still, he couldn’t very well keep her pinned against the wall until the wedding. He released her wrists. “Very well.”
She rubbed her reddened flesh. He had no doubt she’d make him pay for each bruise.
“I shall have marks, then everyone will know you abuse me.”
If he strangled her now, he’d be doing them both a favor. “I let you go, what more do you want?”
“A proper proposal.” She raised her chin again. At this rate, she’d be staring at the ceiling. “The kind a gentleman would make.”
Maybe he’d just slithiswrists, and let someone else deal with her. “I suppose you want me to go down on one knee.”
“As a matter of fact”—a small smile tilted her lips—“yes, that would do nicely.”
Will stifled a groan, glad none of his friends were around to see this. Kneeling before her, he reached for one of her hands, but she whipped them behind her. “Miss Villaret de Joyeuse, Eugénie—”
“A gentleman would not use my name until I’d given him permission.”
He bit the inside of his lip. An English miss might have been a better choice; at least they respected his rank. “Miss Villaret de Joyeuse, would you do me the honor of being my wife?”
She pulled her full lower lip between her teeth. “I must think about it.”
Murder was too good for her. “You let me make a fool of myself, only to reject me?”
“Just because I did not throw myself on you does not mean I refused you.” She scowled. “I said I would think about it. I will give you an answer later. After all, this is very sudden.”
He curled his hands into fists; otherwise they’d wrap themselves around her beautiful neck. “There is nothing hasty about this.”
Eugénie opened her eyes wide. “Oh, but there is. Before, you only wanted me as your mistress.”
“How the dev . . . Why would you think that?”
“We women know these things.”
Eugénie stepped away from him and walked quickly away. This time he let her go. If he caught her again, only God knew what he’d do, and he needed to figure out how the devil they were to marry. He’d be damned if he’d wait for a letter from his father. He sank back down to the floor, his groin still throbbing painfully. It was probably too much to hope the hotel had ice.
Chapter 9
In the event Lord Wivenly decided to watch her depart, Eugénie held her head high and shoulders straight as she marched up the stairs. Conceited, insufferable pig. If he thought she would fall at his feet, he would soon learn she was made of sterner stuff. He was stupid besides. If she hadn’t been a gently born virgin, he would have been happy to make her his mistress. How much clearer could he have been? Rushing down to propose once he discovered her identity. Rot, as Papa would have said. Had no one ever denied the man anything?
If her mother only knew what Lord Wivenly had done . . . But no, Maman would expect her to be betrothed, and she’d wonder where Lord Wivenly was. Drat the man.
Eugénie stopped. She was almost at the main level of the house, where her mother was. Yet if she went back down the stairs to her rooms, Wivenly might see her. Perhaps she could go through the front and flee to Cicely’s house. Eugénie stepped softly through the door into the hall, trying to make as little noise as possible. Everything would be fine if she could escape detection until she had a plausible story. Unfortunately, she was a very bad liar.
“Eugénie, my love.”
God was punishing her for going against her mother’s wishes. “Yes, Maman.”
“Where is Will?”
“Who?” Had another man been here?
“Lord Wivenly, of course.”
