“Lady Chloe merely sees me as safe,” he pointed out. “With me, she can flirt, joke, and converse without worrying I will think it means anything. Have you not heard her say she isn’t interested in marrying?”
Giselle gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “Many young ladies think such things.” And sometimes older ladies, too. Giselle certainly was not interested in marriage to someone like Lord Heathbrook, who, aside from being an unrepentant rogue around women, would have rigid expectations for his countess, which she doubted she could meet. “And if you are correct about Chloe not wishing to marry, that is all the more reason to choose her as your pretend fiancée.”
“Ah, but she’s not in town, is she?” he countered. “She’s up north with the rest of the family. Besides, Scovell has his eye on her, and I don’t wish to step in the way of that.”
Captain Scovell certainly had his eye on her. That had been obvious to everyone, even if Chloe denied it. “Yes, but she has no interest in the captain. She wants a more malleable fellow for a husband, a man she can bend to her will.”
“Like me, you mean,” he said sarcastically.
She snorted. “I have never found you malleable.”
“Good. I hate to be predictable.” He leaned against the wall. “Besides, Jon would disapprove of his sister being my fiancée, pretend or otherwise. He considers me a rakehell.”
“Are you not?” Giselle crossed her arms over her stomach. “You flirt with Chloe, with Tory, with me. If that is not a rakehell, what is?”
He lifted his eyes heavenward. “Only taking you, Chloe, or Tory tobedwould make me a rakehell.”
“Assuming you could get any of us there,” she said tartly.
He pushed away from the wall, his gaze riveting her, full of seductive intensity. “Oh, trust me,ma chérie,I could get you there if I wished.”
A shiver of awareness shot down her spine. She suspected he was right. He had long possessed the ability to make her blood run hot. But she was not about to let him know that. She did not want to find herself with child and alone when this was over.
When she stared him down in a vain effort to show she would not be so easy a conquest, he flashed her a rueful smile. “Fortunately for both of us, I don’t wish it. It wouldn’t suit my aims. Nor yours.”
“Quite true,” she forced herself to say.
“Men flirt. It doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”
“I shall keep that in mind the next time you flirt with me,” she shot back.
“I haven’t flirted with you since you arrived in England. Not really.” He crossed his arms over his very impressive chest. “I wouldn’t dare. Jon would have my hide.”
She cocked her head. “And will he not have your hide if he thinks you are seeking to marry me?”
“That’s different. He’ll be happy to see you seemingly settled for life. Especially since he knows that unlike Lady Chloe, you’re …” He glanced away. “Well … um—”
“Illegitimate,” she said icily. “You and Jon would consider me fortunate to have an earl like you for a husband.”
“No, indeed.” He met her gaze again. “The circumstances of your birth never mattered to Jon. Not since he discovered that your father was his beloved mentor.”
“So, it is onlyyouwho think I would be fortunate to have an earl marry me.”
“Bloody hell, not that, either,” he growled, clearly frustrated.
She stiffened. “You are making my point for me, my lord. Did you not just say that a gentleman does not use such language around a lady? Clearly, you do not consider me a lady.”
“At the moment,” he muttered under his breath, “I consider you a termagant.”
“What is this word ‘termagant’?”
“Harridan, harpy, shrew. Pick one.”
She knew the first two words. “I am no harpy, sir!”
“Not generally, no. But you seem determined to take insult from what I’m offering.”
“Are you saying you wouldnotconsider me, the bastard daughter of an Englishman, fortunate to marry you?”