grown.
She replaced the cup on the saucer, her movements sure and graceful. “I believe I’d take…” She held out her hand and regarded the ring with a speculative gaze. “It is an heirloom and there is only one… Dear me, what a dilemma. Had I more time, I might be able to think of—”
“Just name your price and be done with it!”
She looked at him again through the shadow of those ridiculously long lashes. The little jade. She tapped a finger on her chin. “Hm. If I must give a price… shall we say seven?”
“Seven hundred pounds? You must be joking,” he said stiffly.
“Oh no.” Her voice sifted softly though the air, her thick lashes sweeping down as she blinked. “Not seven hundred. Seven thousand pounds.”
“Bloody hell!” The words burst from his lips and rang through the room. He glared down at her, his hands fisted at his sides. He was standing, though he didn’t remember getting up. “That is outrageous and you know it.”
“No,” she said almost regretfully. “I don’t know that it is outrageous at all. Seven thousand pounds, my lord, or the ring stays mine.”
“You are mad if you think I’ll pay that much for a blasted ring.”
“Then we have nothing more to say to one another.” She smiled almost happily, then stood and held out her hand.
“Thank you for visiting. I do hope you’ll come again when you’ve more time.”
The vixen! Marcus continued to glare down at her, ignoring her outstretched hand. Did she expect him to pay a bloody fortune for his own possession? Frustration welled through him, settling between his shoulder blades.
This was all some sort of fantastical mistake, a misunderstanding of some sort. Yes. That must be what it was. Gathering himself, he resumed his seat. “I am not leaving without that ring.”
“And I am not giving it to you for anything less than seven thousand pounds.” She returned to her seat as well, adjusting her skirt into graceful folds. “Since you aren’t leaving just yet, would you like to try a pastie? They are quite good.” She picked up the plate and held it out once again.
He didn’t want a damn pastie. Still… he gathered his temper and forced himself to relax. It would not do to become emotional. Not now. He selected a pastie from the plate, though he didn’t know if he could swallow it without choking.
It was an untenable position. Here he was, reduced to strategizing over something as paltry as a ring. He’d acquired estates—vast ones, in fact—with far less effort. Damn Devon for being so careless with Mother’s ring to begin with.
“It’s a very pretty pastie, isn’t it?”
He realized he’d been staring at his plate an unconscionable time. “Indeed it is.” He glanced up at Honoria to find her watching him with a gleam of humor in her hazel eyes. “Almost too pretty to eat.”
“Yes, well, as pretty as it is, it tastes even better.” She took a small bite as if to demonstrate, a bit of crust flaking off on her bottom lip. She touched a napkin to her mouth. “Cook is excellent with desserts of all sorts.”
“Taste is a matter of opinion.”
“So is value, which is often bargained on and more often paid for. That is why your ring has such a large price attached to it—I can tell that you value it highly.”
“I should never have admitted what it was,” he said bitterly.
“That was indeed an error.”
“I didn’t realize you’d be so unscrupulous,” he retorted. “I will not underestimate you again. I will recognize money-grubbing when I see it.”
Any other woman would have been outraged. But Honoria Baker-Sneed merely waved a hand, amusement lurking in her hazel eyes. “Tsk tsk, my dear marquis. The exchange of the ring is a business deal. There is no place for emotion in a business deal.” She held out her hand to the beam of sun that cut through the room, light glinting off the etched runes and dancing across her face. “It is quite a pretty piece. I am certain that
She replaced the cup on the saucer, her movements sure and graceful. “I believe I’d take…” She held out her hand and regarded the ring with a speculative gaze. “It is an heirloom and there is only one… Dear me, what a dilemma. Had I more time, I might be able to think of—”
“Just name your price and be done with it!”
She looked at him again through the shadow of those ridiculously long lashes. The little jade. She tapped a finger on her chin. “Hm. If I must give a price… shall we say seven?”
“Seven hundred pounds? You must be joking,” he said stiffly.
“Oh no.” Her voice sifted softly though the air, her thick lashes sweeping down as she blinked. “Not seven hundred. Seven thousand pounds.”
“Bloody hell!” The words burst from his lips and rang through the room. He glared down at her, his hands fisted at his sides. He was standing, though he didn’t remember getting up. “That is outrageous and you know it.”
“No,” she said almost regretfully. “I don’t know that it is outrageous at all. Seven thousand pounds, my lord, or the ring stays mine.”
“You are mad if you think I’ll pay that much for a blasted ring.”
“Then we have nothing more to say to one another.” She smiled almost happily, then stood and held out her hand.
“Thank you for visiting. I do hope you’ll come again when you’ve more time.”
The vixen! Marcus continued to glare down at her, ignoring her outstretched hand. Did she expect him to pay a bloody fortune for his own possession? Frustration welled through him, settling between his shoulder blades.
This was all some sort of fantastical mistake, a misunderstanding of some sort. Yes. That must be what it was. Gathering himself, he resumed his seat. “I am not leaving without that ring.”
“And I am not giving it to you for anything less than seven thousand pounds.” She returned to her seat as well, adjusting her skirt into graceful folds. “Since you aren’t leaving just yet, would you like to try a pastie? They are quite good.” She picked up the plate and held it out once again.
He didn’t want a damn pastie. Still… he gathered his temper and forced himself to relax. It would not do to become emotional. Not now. He selected a pastie from the plate, though he didn’t know if he could swallow it without choking.
It was an untenable position. Here he was, reduced to strategizing over something as paltry as a ring. He’d acquired estates—vast ones, in fact—with far less effort. Damn Devon for being so careless with Mother’s ring to begin with.
“It’s a very pretty pastie, isn’t it?”
He realized he’d been staring at his plate an unconscionable time. “Indeed it is.” He glanced up at Honoria to find her watching him with a gleam of humor in her hazel eyes. “Almost too pretty to eat.”
“Yes, well, as pretty as it is, it tastes even better.” She took a small bite as if to demonstrate, a bit of crust flaking off on her bottom lip. She touched a napkin to her mouth. “Cook is excellent with desserts of all sorts.”
“Taste is a matter of opinion.”
“So is value, which is often bargained on and more often paid for. That is why your ring has such a large price attached to it—I can tell that you value it highly.”
“I should never have admitted what it was,” he said bitterly.
“That was indeed an error.”
“I didn’t realize you’d be so unscrupulous,” he retorted. “I will not underestimate you again. I will recognize money-grubbing when I see it.”
Any other woman would have been outraged. But Honoria Baker-Sneed merely waved a hand, amusement lurking in her hazel eyes. “Tsk tsk, my dear marquis. The exchange of the ring is a business deal. There is no place for emotion in a business deal.” She held out her hand to the beam of sun that cut through the room, light glinting off the etched runes and dancing across her face. “It is quite a pretty piece. I am certain that
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