Page 6

“As you so like to remind me,” she retorted with a sarcastic eye roll. “How could I ever forget, Your Grace?”

“Tsk, tsk, My Lady,” he sighed with a woeful shake of his head. “I thought we were past these stuffy titles.”

She smiled caustically at him. “That is the politest word I can think of, I’m afraid.”

At that point, he could not help but throw his head back in laughter. She was proving to be far more entertaining than any other woman he had ever encountered in his life, and she had not even had a single drop of liquor in her yet, thank all that was holy.

An intoxicated Phoebe Barkley—now,thatwas something his imagination could run wild with.

Fortunately, he managed to stop himself right there.

“Well, in any case, I must thank you, Lady Phoebe.” He chuckled. “I cannot recall having this much fun before. One cannot help but wonder what the hell has gotten into you. This is all so very unlike you.”

There it was again. That slight scowl of indignation.

Why was he finding it so adorable?

“Everyone seems to know what I am like without really asking,” she snapped, turning away from him.

“Oh, please do not be cross with me,” he pleaded laughingly as he fell into step beside her.

A sort of companionable silence settled over them as they walked. For the first time in his life, Ethan found himself waiting patiently for his companion to speak, instead of demanding answers.

After the space of a few more breaths, she finally spoke.

“My father has already arranged for my marriage,” she said with a sharp exhale. “I am to be married in a month.”

Married?

His hands clenched into fists at his sides, even as he looked at her in shock. Bile rose in his throat, and a keen desire to hit someone surged inside him.

Ethan had never felt such an unspeakable rage before.

The only problem was that he did not understand where it came from.

“What a sad coincidence,” he muttered.

She tilted her head up at him, her gaze suddenly curious. “Why would you say that?”

He grimaced as he thought of the most unfortunate situation that he found himself in. “As it turns out, My Lady, I am to be married as well,” he admitted bitingly. “Sooner, in fact. But I do not put myself in unnecessary danger because of it, do I?”

She suddenly drew to a halt and faced him. Was she going to chafe at his reprimand again?

Surprisingly, there was mirth flickering in those remarkable eyes of hers. Like fireflies dancing amidst the foliage of an evergreen forest.

And then, she burst into laughter.

“I apologize, Your Grace,” she managed amidst a fit of giggles.

He regarded her with a raised eyebrow. “Somehow, you do not seem quite as contrite as you profess.”

“I am sorry. Really, I am,” she continued, nearly choking in her amusement. “Butyou? Married?”

It was his turn to feel indignation at her words.

“I fail to see how this is a laughing matter.” He scowled at her.

Maybe he had been mistaken. Maybe she had indeed imbibed some spirits before she managed to stumble into the club. It was the only explanation for her ridiculous reaction to his troubles.