Sir Alphonse smiled. “But, my lady, that is the beauty of our present circumstance. I am here. You are here. We are fated to be together.”
“I hardly think fate played a role,” Maddie said, scooting along the bookshelf in the Westmans’ library. If she could reach the end, she might have a chance to dart out the door and escape Sir Alphonse. “You knew I would attend my cousin’s wedding breakfast. My entire family is in attendance.”
Maddie inched past a volume of Shakespeare and several books of poetry. A section of essays remained and then she would be free. Well, as free as she could be in a house brimming with her meddlesome family.
“The question,” Maddie said, eyeing the essays, “is why you are in attendance.”
“Distant relation,” Sir Alphonse said with a wave of one lace-bedecked sleeve. He edged closer, and Maddie could not help but stare at the beauty mark above his lip. It was obviously painted on. No less obvious was the copious rouge he used to redden his cheeks.
Maddie moved imperceptibly nearer to the volumes of essays. “Distant relation of whom? The bride or groom?”
The edge of her dress brushed the volumes in question, and Maddie prepared to make her move when Sir Alphonse pounced, cornering her, and suffocating her with the overwhelming stench of roses.
“What does it matter, my dear lady? I am here. You are here. Say yes, my darling. Consent to be my wife.”
Maddie tried to force the words out without taking a breath. “I cannot, sir. I do not love you.”
He stepped back, hand to his heart as though mortally wounded. Maddie almost felt sorry for him. She would have, had she not seen the same reaction from him seven times before.
“You wound me, my lady. I love you.”
“No, you do not,” Maddie said levelly. “You love my money, and you love my father’s title. You do not love me.”
“There you are wrong,” Sir Alphonse said firmly. “That may be true of your other suitors, but not I. Tell me, my sweet, what can I do to prove my love?”
He leaned closer, and Maddie felt faint from the lack of fresh air. She could not back up any farther. The spine of a book dug into her shoulder.
“Shall I climb a mountain for you? Write you a hundred love songs? Quote poetry to you all night long?”
She swallowed the bile rising in her throat and closed her eyes. “Tell me what color my eyes are, Sir Alphonse, and I will consider your proposal.”
There was a long silence. Maddie heard the distant sounds of laughter in Josie’s new ballroom and the quiet ticking of the clock in Lord Westman’s library.
Finally Sir Alphonse cleared his throat. “My lady, such a question—”
Maddie shook her head, refusing to open her eyes. “Answer me, sir.” She almost hoped he’d answer correctly. She had no intention of marrying Sir Alphonse, but just once she would have liked a man to notice something about her.
Something besides her dowry.
He took a deep, raspy breath. “Brown. Brown like your glorious hair. Beautiful, lovely brown.”
Maddie opened her eyes. Her very blue eyes. “I’m sorry, Sir Alphonse. Now, if you don’t mind—”
“Maddie? Where are you?” The library door Maddie had been eyeing so longingly flew open, and Ashley stood in the opening.
She took in the scene at once and scowled at Maddie’s captor. “Sir Alphonse, what are you doing?”
Alphonse jumped back. “Nothing, Miss Brittany. I—I—I—”
Ashley, so beautiful and so self-assured that she intimidated all but the most confident of men, shook her head. “You are monopolizing Lady Madeleine on a day when her family needs her most. Please leave us at once. I have urgent family news to discuss with my cousin.”
“Of—Of—Of—”
“Good-bye, Sir Alphonse,” Ashley said, pushing him out the door and closing it on his agitated stutters. She turned back to Maddie. “Good God, how can you stand him?”
“I can’t.” Maddie moved away from the bookcase and toward the window. She threw it open, ostensibly to let in fresh air, but took the opportunity to scan the garden. “But I don’t see any reason to treat him rudely.”
“Oh, then you want him to keep proposing marriage?”
