like the room to yourself, I will be more than happy— ”
“Sit.”
It was an order, not a request. Instantly, she chafed. Did he think her as biddable
as a dog? Kira cocked her head in his direction—still standing—and cast him a defiant
stare.
“Please,” he growled, jaw clenched tightly.
Kira paused. She doubted Cropthorne said the word please very often. With her arms
crossed over her chest, she took the fact he’d forced the word from his throat as
a victory and sat.
“I’d like the door open, if you please,” she said.
“No. What I have to say is better said in privacy.”
Clearly, he intended his words to be ominous. And they were.
Wordlessly, she regarded the man she feared was about to become her nemesis. He looked
tired, his dark eyes underscored by gray circles beneath. He had discarded his coat
and wore only his breeches and a crisp white shirt open just enough to show the strong
column of his neck. The garment showcased his wide shoulders and narrow torso. He’d
had his dark hair severely shorn while in London, Kira realized. She remembered the
hint of curl along his nape before his haircut. That was gone now, and she wondered
why he’d felt the need to have something so natural eradicated so completely.
“Miss Melbourne.” He moved between a pair of overstuffed chairs and settled himself
into the one closest to her. His movements held both military precision and confidence , as if he knew exactly what he was doing.
Kira watched, dread growing and swirling in her belly.
“You can have no illusions that my aunt or I approve of your betrothal to James.”
She had feared his words , suspected they were coming even , and still Cropthorne stunned her. He was direct, blunt. His weighty gaze never left
her.
She refused to fidget under his intense stare. “Your opinion changes nothing, your
grace, though I had hoped for amiable family relations. Only time will prove to you
that I mean to be a good wife to your cousin.”
“You do not love him, I suspect. Nor does he love you.”
An acknowledgement of such a sentiment from Cropthorne? Kira would have never thought
it possible. Thus far, he’d shown no signs of having a heart, much less believing
in it.
“Love has never been a requirement for marriage.”
“Perhaps not,” he conceded. “But if you cared anything for James, you would put a
stop to this farce.”
Anger surged. How dare the pompous duke presume to tell her what she ought to do!
“I have a great deal of affection for your cousin. He is precisely the sort of gentleman
I always conceived of wedding. He is considerate and well-mannered— ”
“Indeed. But what can you give him in return? Mixed blood? A damaged reputation? Do
you imagine either of those… qualities will help James advance in the church?”
Kira wouldn’t have thought it possible, but Cropthorne’s gaze sharpened yet again,
until looking at him felt like trailing a razor across her finger.
“He does not have the sort of ambition to which you refer.”
The duke scoffed. “He is intent on saving you, on making you his act of charity. Do
you imagine he would tell you of his ambitions, knowing you will likely ruin his chances?”
Kira refused to allow Cropthorne to hurt her. She was not merely charity to James;
they shared mutual respect and friendship. Day by day, she saw evidence of the boundless
goodness of his heart. He fully accepted her as she was, believed her innocent of
Lord Vance’s terrible claims. James was truly one of the best men she had ever met.
“I will care for him every day. I will cook his meals, tend his clothes, and raise
his children. I will endeavor to be the kind of wife a clergyman such as he requires.
And he wishes to marry me. Why should that not be enough for you?”
“James deserves more.” Cropthorne leaned forward aggressively in his chair. “He deserves
a woman who will not be shunned by his
“Sit.”
It was an order, not a request. Instantly, she chafed. Did he think her as biddable
as a dog? Kira cocked her head in his direction—still standing—and cast him a defiant
stare.
“Please,” he growled, jaw clenched tightly.
Kira paused. She doubted Cropthorne said the word please very often. With her arms
crossed over her chest, she took the fact he’d forced the word from his throat as
a victory and sat.
“I’d like the door open, if you please,” she said.
“No. What I have to say is better said in privacy.”
Clearly, he intended his words to be ominous. And they were.
Wordlessly, she regarded the man she feared was about to become her nemesis. He looked
tired, his dark eyes underscored by gray circles beneath. He had discarded his coat
and wore only his breeches and a crisp white shirt open just enough to show the strong
column of his neck. The garment showcased his wide shoulders and narrow torso. He’d
had his dark hair severely shorn while in London, Kira realized. She remembered the
hint of curl along his nape before his haircut. That was gone now, and she wondered
why he’d felt the need to have something so natural eradicated so completely.
“Miss Melbourne.” He moved between a pair of overstuffed chairs and settled himself
into the one closest to her. His movements held both military precision and confidence , as if he knew exactly what he was doing.
Kira watched, dread growing and swirling in her belly.
“You can have no illusions that my aunt or I approve of your betrothal to James.”
She had feared his words , suspected they were coming even , and still Cropthorne stunned her. He was direct, blunt. His weighty gaze never left
her.
She refused to fidget under his intense stare. “Your opinion changes nothing, your
grace, though I had hoped for amiable family relations. Only time will prove to you
that I mean to be a good wife to your cousin.”
“You do not love him, I suspect. Nor does he love you.”
An acknowledgement of such a sentiment from Cropthorne? Kira would have never thought
it possible. Thus far, he’d shown no signs of having a heart, much less believing
in it.
“Love has never been a requirement for marriage.”
“Perhaps not,” he conceded. “But if you cared anything for James, you would put a
stop to this farce.”
Anger surged. How dare the pompous duke presume to tell her what she ought to do!
“I have a great deal of affection for your cousin. He is precisely the sort of gentleman
I always conceived of wedding. He is considerate and well-mannered— ”
“Indeed. But what can you give him in return? Mixed blood? A damaged reputation? Do
you imagine either of those… qualities will help James advance in the church?”
Kira wouldn’t have thought it possible, but Cropthorne’s gaze sharpened yet again,
until looking at him felt like trailing a razor across her finger.
“He does not have the sort of ambition to which you refer.”
The duke scoffed. “He is intent on saving you, on making you his act of charity. Do
you imagine he would tell you of his ambitions, knowing you will likely ruin his chances?”
Kira refused to allow Cropthorne to hurt her. She was not merely charity to James;
they shared mutual respect and friendship. Day by day, she saw evidence of the boundless
goodness of his heart. He fully accepted her as she was, believed her innocent of
Lord Vance’s terrible claims. James was truly one of the best men she had ever met.
“I will care for him every day. I will cook his meals, tend his clothes, and raise
his children. I will endeavor to be the kind of wife a clergyman such as he requires.
And he wishes to marry me. Why should that not be enough for you?”
“James deserves more.” Cropthorne leaned forward aggressively in his chair. “He deserves
a woman who will not be shunned by his
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