“I…There’s no way for me to respond to that without embarrassing myself.”
“No response required.” He pulled her into a recessed portion of the terrace. “Here we are.”
“I don’t know that this is proper.”
“Answer a question for me, and I’ll let you go.”
She scowled at him. “I hadn’t realized I was being held captive.”
Likely better that she didn’t, he decided, and opted out of replying. “Where did you get that dress?”
She blinked at him and glanced down at her gown. “Why, is something the matter with it?”
He very nearly told her exactly what was the matter with it—it was beautiful. She was beautiful in it. Every man in the house could see she was a beautiful woman in a beautiful gown. He had just enough common sense left, however, to know those words, spoken as an accusation, would accomplish nothing—nothing good, anyway. And now that he’d removed her from the ballroom, the worst of his temper was settling to a manageable burn. He took a deep breath. “There is nothing at all the matter with it.” And because he worried his behavior may have caused her to think otherwise, he added, “You look lovely.”
And to that he added a silent, and heartfelt Damn it.
“Oh. Thank you. I’m glad you like it. I…” She dropped her gaze, and fiddled with the material at her waist. “I should probably tell you…the cost of it will come to you. I didn’t do that on purpose. Kate bought the dress, but it didn’t fit her properly, and she gave it to me. If you like I can—”
“Why should I care where the bill was sent?” he asked, honestly baffled. “Have I ever complained before?”
“Before?” She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
“Your other gowns,” he clarified. “The other bills—” He cut himself off when she continued to shake her head. “The bills haven’t been sent to me?”
“Of course not.”
He scowled in thought. He never paid attention to the details of the bills from the modiste, he simply paid them. “Your uncle, then?”
“No,” she replied and tilted her chin up a fraction. “I pay for my own gowns…usually, anyway. And if it bothers you—”
“It bloody well doesn’t bother me,” he snapped.
“It rather sounds like it bothers you,” she pointed out.
He drew a frustrated hand down his face. “Why would you pay for your own gowns when you knew perfectly well I’d see to the expense for you?”
“Well, I didn’t know perfectly well, did I?”
He sent her a dubious look. “Do you mean to tell me that my mother never offered?”
“Of course she did, but—”
“But you refused,” he finished for her. “Why?”
“A woman has a right to her pride as much as any man,” she answered. “I take enough from your mother—from your family.”
“You’ve taken nothing that wasn’t freely offered.”
“All the same—”
“It’s only a gown, for God’s sake,” he continued with an impatient wave of his hand.
“Exactly. I fail to see why you’re so upset.” She shook her head when he opened his mouth to argue. “This isn’t the place to discuss this.”
“You’re right.” He stepped back to a window and slid it open. “Climb through.”
She stared at him, then the window, then him again. “What?”
“Climb through,” he repeated gesturing with his hand. “It’s the study.”
“Of course it’s your study,” she replied sarcastically. “Where else would you play fast and loose with my reputation?”
“I’m not playing with anything. No one can see, Mirabelle, and I want a private conversation with you. Climb through.”
“No.”
“Climb through,” he ground out, “or I’ll toss you through.”
Mirabelle glowered at him, caught somewhere between dumbfounded and furious. It was on the tip of her tongue to say something along the lines of you wouldn’t dare. But by the set look on his face, he would dare.
She stepped up to the window.
“You’re not following the rules of our agreement,” she grumbled as she sat down and swung her legs over the sill and into the adjoining room.
“You can take me to court for breach of contract tomorrow. Now hop down.”
She did, and turned to watch as he climbed through the window, closing it and the drapes behind him.
“This is entirely unnecessary,” she announced as he lit two candles on the desk. “I’m not going to apologize for paying for my own clothing.”
“I don’t want your apology,” he informed her. “I want you to listen to mine.”
Baffled, she watched him finish with the candles and cross the room. “I…you haven’t anything to apologize for.”
“You’ve been uncomfortable at Haldon,” he replied. “Uncomfortable with asking for or taking what you needed. That’s my fault.”
“There is no fault,” she retorted. “I haven’t been uncomfortable—”
“Don’t lie to me, imp.”
“Very well, I haven’t been any more uncomfortable taking your charity than I would be taking anyone else’s.”