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And then she was gone, the disloyal little thing.

Rose, at least, stayed though she did look on the verge of being sick.

Emily wondered if she, too, could claim to have joined a convent. She was not particularly religious, but surely a life of feigned piety was better than having to face the man who had made her…feel…things.

Before she could calculate her likelihood of escape, however, the Earl of Moore appeared directly in the doorway because he was precisely the sort of man that did discourteous thingslike wandering about someone else’s home uninvited or kissing someone until they made embarrassing sounds.

His glower, Emily couldn’t help but notice, was exceptionally pronounced this morning. She declined to think any other thoughts about his face, mouth, or overall person.

“Very well,” she said with a sigh. “Good morning, My Lord. As you can see, we are at breakfast. Would you care to join us?”

The Earl looked as astonished as if she’d asked him to join him in a light spot of murder. This felt a bit much, even if Emily allowed that it was somewhat irregular to ask a near stranger—and no matter what they’d done the night before, she refused to think of him as an intimate—to the breakfast table.

But she was tired, hungry, and sullenly opposed to making concessions for a man who really should have beenanywherebut at Drowton House this morning.

The Earl shot a glance at Rose, who was pointedly looking at her plate as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

“I’d prefer to stand,” he said.

Emily shrugged. He really was being most absurd. Didn’t he know that the best way to make gossip continue was to feed it? She’d never had a scandal of her own before, but even she knew that. Given the Earl’s, er,colorfulmother, he should have realized that the best course of action was to stay away from her.

The Earl, apparently unimpressed with this response, cleared his throat pointedly.

“Miss Rutley,” he said emphatically.

Emily set down her piece of toast. She wouldn’t be able to enjoy it with him grumbling at her, not even if itwascoated with a generous helping of her favorite orange marmalade.

“Yes, My Lord?” she asked, managing to hidemostof her exasperation.

He did not even try to hidehisexasperation.

“Could you please pay attention, Miss Rutley?” he asked hotly. “I am trying to ask for your hand!”

Rose squeaked.

“Good God,why?” Emily asked.

The Earl looked at her as though she was being purposefully obtuse which—oh, all right, fair enough. But she hadn’t meantwhy was he askingas much aswhy would he think that a reasonable solution to this conundrum.

“Because it’s the right thing to do!” he exclaimed.

“Ugh,” said Emily.

The Earl looked a bit like he was choking on his own tongue…or perhaps like he would like to choke some sense into Emily. When he spoke again, it was through gritted teeth.

“I compromised you,” he said, sounding as though it hurt him.

“So?” Emily asked.

This proved more than the Earl could take, apparently.

“So!” he burst out, throwing his hands up in the air. “So?So,Miss Rutley, when a gentleman compromises a lady, he marries her unless he is no gentleman at all. I cannot fathom why you are pushing me to explain this. Youknowthis. You know nobody else will wish to marry you with this scandal hanging over your head.”

Emilydidknow that nobody else would wish to marry her—with or without the scandal, frankly. She’d just been saying as much to her sisters. Still, she felt it impolite for the Earl to point it out.

“You needn’t trouble yourself,” she said with a sniff that she hoped sounded prim, rather than wounded. “I had no intention of marrying anyone else.”

“Correct,” said the Earl sharply, “because you are marryingme.”