Bridgerton Collection, Volume 2 - Julia Quinn Page 0,209

made her feel strange, and itchy, as if she needed to jump out of her skin.

She had spent her adult life making her own choices, had considered herself the luckiest of females because her family had allowed her to do so. Maybe that was why it now felt so unbearable to be forced onto a path before she was ready.

Or maybe it was unbearable because she was the one who had set this entire farce into motion. She was furious with herself, and it was making her snippy with everyone.

“I’ll do my best to make you happy,” he said gruffly. “And the children need a mother.”

She smiled weakly. She’d wanted her marriage to be about more than just children.

“I’m sure you’ll be a great help,” he said.

“A great help,” she echoed, hating the way it sounded.

“Wouldn’t you agree?”

She nodded, mostly because she was afraid that if she opened her mouth, she might scream.

“Good,” he said. “Then it’s all settled.”

It’s all settled. For the rest of her life, that would be her grand proposal of marriage. It’s all settled. And the worst part of it was—she had no right to complain. She was the one who’d run off without giving Phillip enough time to arrange for a chaperone. She was the one who’d been so eager to make her own destiny. She was the one who’d acted without thinking, and now all she had to show for it was—

It’s all settled.

She swallowed. “Wonderful.”

He looked at her, blinking in confusion. “Aren’t you happy?”

“Of course,” she said hollowly.

“You don’t sound happy.”

“I’m happy,” she snapped.

Phillip muttered something under his breath.

“What did you say?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

“You said something.”

He gave her an impatient look. “If I’d meant for you to hear it, I would have said it out loud.”

She sucked in her breath. “Then you shouldn’t have said it at all.”

“Some things,” Phillip muttered, “are impossible to keep inside.”

“What did you say?” she demanded.

Phillip raked his hand through his hair. “Eloise—”

“Did you insult me?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“Since it appears we are to be wed,” she bit off, “yes.”

“I don’t recall my exact words,” Phillip shot back, “but I believe I may have uttered the words women and lack of sense in the same breath.”

He shouldn’t have said it. He knew he shouldn’t have said it; it would have been rude under any circumstances, and it was especially wrong right now. But she had pushed and pushed and pushed and wouldn’t back down. It was like she’d sliced a needle under his skin, and then decided to jab just for the fun of it.

And besides, why was she in such a terrible mood, anyway? All he’d done was state the facts. They would have to marry, and frankly, she should have been glad that if she’d been compromised, at least it had been with a man who was willing to do the right thing and wed her.

He didn’t expect gratitude. Hell, this was as much his fault as it was hers; he was the one who’d issued the initial invitation, after all. But was it too much to expect a smile and a pleasant mood?

“I’m glad we had this conversation,” Eloise said quite suddenly. “This has been good.”

He looked up, instantly suspicious. “I beg your pardon.”

“Very beneficial,” she said. “One should always understand one’s spouse before one marries, and—”

He groaned. This was not going to end well.

“And,” she added sharply, glaring at his groan, “it is certainly provident that I now know how you feel about my gender.”

He was the sort who usually walked away from conflict, but really, this was too much. “If I recall correctly,” he shot back, “I never did tell you exactly what I thought of women.”

“I inferred it,” she retorted. “The phrase ‘lack of sense’ pointed me in the correct direction.”

“Did it?” he drawled. “Well, I’m thinking differently now.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that I’ve changed my mind. I’ve decided I don’t have difficulties with women in general, after all. It’s you I find insufferable.”

She drew back, clearly affronted.

“Has no one called you insufferable before?” He found that difficult to believe.

“No one who wasn’t related to me,” she grumbled.

“You must live in a very polite society.” He squirmed in his seat again; really, did no one make chairs for large men anymore? “Either that,” he muttered, “or you’ve simply terrified everyone into bending to your every whim.”

She flushed, and he couldn’t tell if it was because she was embarrassed by his spot-on assessment of her personality or