“I am pleased to entertain you, sir.”
“You are a like a hedgehog with me, Miss Clare. You always have been. No matter what I say or do, your spines come out.” He cocked his head, curious about this woman who would soon be his wife. “Do you really hate me so much, ma’am?”
She opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it again.
Gabriel waved his hand. “Never mind; it does not signify. To answer your question, no, I will not apologize to Visel for any reason, ever. Does that put paid to that idea?”
Her jaw was so tight it hurt merely looking at her. A wave of pity washed over Gabriel, and he gave her a gentle smile. “I’m aware I’m hardly the husband of your dreams, Miss Clare. But—”
“As difficult as it might be for you to believe, Mr. Marlington, I am no schoolroom chit whose head is stuffed with nothing but dreams of marriage. In fact, it would be fair to say thoughts of marriage hardly penetrate my mind at all.”
Gabriel grinned at this very Miss Clare–like flare of spirited defiance. “No, that is not difficult to believe. So you were not dreaming of marriage. Well, neither was I, truth be told, yet here we are. I advise you to do as I am and look on the positive side, Miss Clare.”
“And what side would that be, exactly?”
“We will salvage what remains of our reputations and make a life together, just as others have done in our position from time immemorial. I think you will also find your position as a married woman is much freer than an unmarried one. As Mrs. Marlington you may pursue your”—he waved his hand in the air—“causes, and what have you, with far less interference.”
“Except from you, that is.”
He raised his eyebrows. “I beg your pardon.”
“I might pursue my causes and what have you”—she spoke the words in an accent that was a surprisingly good imitation of his own—“with more latitude. But I pointed out that you—as my lord and master—would be able to curtail my activities.”
He laughed. Life might be irritating with Miss Clare, but it certainly would never be boring.
“You are correct, Miss Clare. You will be my wife and, therefore, subject to my will under the law. Does that really concern you?”
She huffed out a puff of air. “Does it concern me? No, Mr. Marlington, it terrifies me.”
Gabriel frowned, his amusement draining away. “Whatever for? Do you really think I am such an ogre?”
Her mouth flattened into a remarkably straight, tight line. “You don’t want to know what I am thinking.”
“Oh, but I do. Please, enlighten me.” Gabriel crossed his arms over his chest and told himself to be calm. After all, he would be with this woman for the rest of his life. She was not a garden-variety miss, but a woman of sharp wit and piercing intelligence; it behooved him to treat her with a little patience. Surely they could find some common ground?
He would begin practicing such patience right now. “Well?”
* * *
Drusilla wanted to bang her head on the arm of the settee. Why had she even raised this topic?
She looked into his captivating, no-longer-laughing eyes. “Whether or not you are an ogre is utterly beside the point. Why should I have to give control over my person to any man—ogre or saint? Why should it not be you who is subject to my control and will?”
The way his mouth fell open was comical. “What?”
“I said—”
He held up a hand. “No, I heard you. I merely do not take your point.”
“Of course you don’t.”
“You wish to be my master in this marriage.” The flat way he spoke the words told her all she needed to know what he thought about that.
“I did not say that.”
He inhaled deeply, his fine nostrils flaring, and assumed the expression of a man who was forcing himself to stay calm in the face of overwhelming provocation. Drusilla had seen this same expression on men’s faces whenever they did not meet with instant agreement from a female.
When he spoke again, his voice was cool. “Are you worried I will beat you? Lock you away in the country? Commit you to Bedlam? Because I can assure you, Miss Clare, even if you do not take my word that I would never do such things, you can certainly agree that my mother would never permit any harm to come to you.”
Drusilla knew that, of course. But she could not tell him what she truly