Page 100 of Three Weeks with a Princess
“He’ll want to do lots of other things, too,” he said.
She began to look slightly alarmed. “What sort of things?”
“Like the sort of things we did the other night.”
“Hmm. If I’m being honest, I must say I enjoyed that interlude quite a lot. So, that’s a good sign, isn’t it?”
“Will you enjoy doing it with men who are virtually strangers?”
Her barely suppressed grimace suggested not. “I’ll just have to get used to it, won’t I?”
“If you don’t, you might have trouble with the other physical requirements, too. And some men have very particular tastes. Peculiar might be a better term.” Yes, he was laying it on rather thick, but it was the truth. “Ask your mother if you’d like a more detailed explanation.”
She’d been leaning against the back of the bench, absently chewing a fingernail, but that comment brought her upright in a flash. “My mother is the last person I’d ask,” she said sharply. “So don’t suggest it again.”
Something was clearly wrong—well, even more wrong than their demented conversation had been up to this point.
“As you wish.” He found it interesting—and disturbing—that she was so rattled. Obviously, it had something to do with her mother. But he knew Lia well, and the subject was closed, at least for now.
She came to her feet and slapped the bonnet on her head, tying the bow with brisk efficiency.
“I take it our discussion has concluded,” he said.
“Indeed.” She gave him a look more suited to a governess or disapproving spinster than a budding courtesan. “I’m sure I’ll have more questions in the future. For now, though, please be clear on the basics. You have three weeks to decide whether to accept me as your mistress or help me find a suitable candidate who will. Are we clear?”
“As clear as crystal,” he said with a gentle smile.
“Good. Then I suggest we return to the house. The others will be wondering where we are.”
He snagged her by the arm. “In a moment. I have a condition, too.”
Although she was several inches shorter, Lia still managed to convey the impression that she was glaring down her nose at him. She looked very much like the princess she should have been.
“Which is?” she asked.
“I insist on having veto power.”
“Veto power over what exactly?”
“Over your potential protectors, of course. If they don’t pass muster with me, you have to reject them.”
She looked momentarily flummoxed, but then her gaze narrowed and her brows leveled into an irritated line. “That’s ridiculous. Knowing you, you’ll never approve of any man.”
“That’s my only condition. If you want my help, I suggest you accept it. If not, you’re on your own. And we both know how well you’ve done so far.”
She glared at him for several long seconds. “You can go straight to perdition, Jack Easton,” she finally said. Then she pulled out of his grip and stalked off.
Chapter Twenty-One
“You truly wish to marry me?” Lia blurted out. It seemed impossible. She’d been branded a pariah by the Ton, and yet here was another eminently respectable offer of marriage, her second in as many weeks.
Jack’s proposal had been understandable because he felt responsible for her—even though that was nonsense. This one, however, was quite surprising.
Sebastian Sinclair, sitting next to her on the settee in the Hunters’ drawing room, seemed taken aback by her astonished response. “Yes, I do, as a matter of fact. I would never jest about something as serious as marriage, Miss Kincaid.”
When the baby snuffled a protest, Lia realized she was holding Dom’s little body tight to her chest. She loosened her grip and settled him on her shoulder.
“I have to admit to feeling confused,” she said. “You were adamant at Mr. Welby’s masquerade ball that you neither wished to marry me nor take me as your mistress.”
