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Anastasia glared at the two of them, and if Dorian was not in such dire need of an incredibly sizeable dowry, he would have called the whole thing off right then.

“Now, I have gathered so far that you two know each other,” Thomas surmised. “How?”

“I came across her last night in a spot of trouble,” Dorian explained, meeting and holding Anastasia’s gaze.

Christ, but she was beautiful. The green of her gown shone against her pale skin and contrasted stunningly with her dark hair.

Her brown eyes flashed when she spoke, and the apples of her cheeks flushed so prettily that it nearly stole his breath.

He thought that she had been lovely the night before, but apparently, the dim light of the night had obscured the full force of her beauty because in the light, she was astonishing. And Dorian resented her for it.

“What trouble?” Thomas demanded, his gaze still flicking between the two of them.

“I went to retrieve the kittens, and a group of men came upon Louise and me,” Anastasia answered with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“They were buffoons, and they were going to leave at any moment before His Grace”—she turned a false, saccharine smile on Dorian—“and his barrel-chested git of a valet decided to make their presence known.”

“Enough!” Thomas roared, the insult seeming to be his final straw. “No more insults. Leave the room, now.”

Anastasia leveled her gaze at her brother, tilting her chin up in the exact same expression of defiance she had held the night before.

For a moment, Dorian thought she was going to tell him no.

And as infuriating as he might find her, he would have been rather amused to see how that all played out.

As such, he was shocked when, after only the briefest pause, Anastasia turned on her heel and stalked out of the room.

“I see what you meant,” Dorian said the moment she was gone. “About how it would need to be the right husband with a firm hand to turn her into a dutiful wife.”

“I…” Thomas stammered. “I assure you, most of her ire is typically reserved for me. Once she is wed?—”

“Do not worry,” Dorian interrupted, seeing that the other man was now worried that he was going to back out of their deal. “I still wish to marry her.”

“You do?” Thomas sighed with relief before giving him a quick nod. “Then, shall we retire to the study so we may sign the contracts and discuss the transfer of the dowry?”

“Absolutely,” Dorian agreed.

The two men pushed themselves to stand, and as they walked out of the drawing room and back toward the stairs at the front of the house, Dorian could have sworn that he heard the tell-tale clicking of Anastasia’s heels not far behind them.

Anastasia paced in the hallway adjacent to her brother’s study, seething over everything that had occurred over the course of the last hour. She could not believe that Thomas had promised her to the man she had met the night before.

Well, she guessed ‘met’ was not exactly the right word. They had never exchanged names or even any pleasantries. In fact, the only thing the two of them had exchanged was insults and a dog bite.

Anastasia had hoped that by acting petulant, the Duke would back out of whatever agreement he had struck with her brother.

Especially when there had been so much animosity between the two of them the night before.

In her own fear, and fury while they had been standing in the alleyway, she had insulted him, had demeaned him, and she knew she had acted rather unbecoming of a lady of her station.

Anastasia had hoped that that would be enough for him to call off whatever agreement he had struck with Thomas.

But the man had shown no inclination toward that by the time she had been ordered to leave the room. And now, she would have to figure out a different way to get the marriage called off. Because there was no way she would allow herself to become married to the Duke of Frost.

I will try to apologize, tell him that I was foolish last night and that I am sorry for the way that I spoke to him. Then, I will ask him nicely to dispel the agreement. Surely, no man wants to marry a woman so opposed to marrying him.

She nodded her head despite the fact that she was alone, rehearsing the speech that she would give him in her head while she waited for him to exit from her brother’s study.

Anastasia could hear them on the other side of the door, the low murmurs of their voices drifting to her through the stiff air of the house.

But none of the words were clear enough for her to make out.

The longer time drew on, the more anxious she became, and eventually, the pacing alone was no longer enough, and she began to wring her hands together. She thought back to the night before when the three men had approached her and Louise in the alleyway.

Anastasia had been certain that the men would have caused both her and her maid grievous harm as men like that so often did, and she had been glad when Dorian and his valet had come to their rescue.

But for some reason, as her eyes had settled on the too-handsome face at the other end of the dark alley, she had not been able to swallow her pride and thank him.

There was something in his cocky stance, in the way ice had seemed to roll off his very being, that despite the incredibly kind thing he had done, she had not been able to resist goading him.

“I will file for the special license today,” Thomas’s voice followed after him, but her brother remained in his study, outside of her view. “If all goes well, the marriage should be able to occur in about a week’s time.”

“Thank you, Lord Markenson. I will remain in London until I receive word.”

Dorian closed the door behind him, stopping just long enough to blow out a long, arduous breath.

Anastasia paused for a moment, noticing that when the man was alone, he looked exhausted.

His raven hair, bright blue eyes, and angular features served to make him quite attractive, but at that moment, he looked so weary that her heart gave a swift pang of sympathy.

Perhaps I can use that to my advantage.

Anastasia gathered her courage and pulled the door she was hiding behind open. “Your Grace,” she said, startling Dorian.

He blinked rapidly as he tried to take her in before his handsome features rearranged themselves into a cocky grin, all previous fatigue falling away from him.

“It is Your Grace now, isn’t it?” he asked, cocking his head to the side and keeping his face a mask of cold amusement. “No banter? No quippy retort or insult to hurl my way? After the display you put on last night, I would have thought you rather incapable of respect and pretty platitudes.”

He did not wait for her to answer. Instead, he stuffed his hand in the pocket of his waistcoat and began to stroll away from her, down the long, ornately decorated hallway and toward the grand staircase.

“I was wondering if I could have a word,” she ventured, trotting to keep up with his long, powerful strides.

“You seem to be quite the woman reformed,” he mused, not turning to look at her. “You are all politeness and formalities now, Lady Anastasia. Tell me, what prompted the sudden change in heart?”

She gritted her teeth against the retort that rose in her throat and ignored his question as she began to explain herself. “I wanted to apologize for last night.”

Still, he did not turn to look at her as he made his way toward the entrance of the house. They had reached the stairs, and he descended them quickly, never once slowing.

“Why would you apologize?” he asked simply, his voice just as frigid and unfeeling as the look he had given her moments before. “We both know you would not mean it.”

Anastasia could bear no more, her frustration bubbled up inside of her so quickly that her words burst out of her. “Would you please just stop trying to run away and look at me?”

Dorian’s back went rigid as he made it to the bottom step, and ever so slowly, he began to turn toward her. His eyebrows were raised, amusement dancing in his blue eyes, and the corner of his mouth tilted up in a smirk.

“I am looking at you,” he retorted, his expression giving nothing about what he was feeling away, and Anastasia found it infuriating. “Now what?”

“About last night—” she began, but he interrupted her.

“You have already said that part.” He waved a dismissive hand. “I forgive you. Now, can you get on with the rest of it?”

She rolled her eyes before she realized what she had done. Quickly schooling her expression into one that she hoped appeared contrite, she continued speaking.

“I also did not mean to insult you today,” she continued, keeping her voice low and pliant. “My brother, unfortunately, tends to bring out the very worst in me.”

“You can drop the act any time you would like,” Dorian drawled, sounding bored. “Please, get to the point of why you stopped me in the corridor, so that I can leave.”

Anastasia’s eyes widened as his words washed over her, realizing that she had failed.

Fine, if that’s how he wants it.

She squared her shoulders as she met his gaze, refusing to admire the way his blue eyes shone. “All right,” she began, allowing all pretense to fall away. “I do not want to marry you. I want you to withdraw your proposal.”

Dorian chuckled, but there was no humor in the sound. “I will not be doing that.”

“And why not?” Anastasia argued, surging forward so that she was mere inches away from his towering form. “We do not know each other, so it would be no harm to you. Why would you want to marry a woman that does not want to marry you?”

“This has nothing to do with want, I assure you.” Dorian lifted his hands, studying his fingernails dismissively. “I need your dowry. It is as simple as that.”

Anastasia’s mouth popped open?in surprise at the answer. “You are the Duke of Frostwood. You are telling me that you require a paltry dowry so badly that you would marry a woman that you not only do not know but that you do not even like?”

“Your dowry is anything but paltry.” Dorian’s eyes flicked up to her. “Your parents left behind a king’s ransom for your dowry. It could keep a small kingdom afloat for a very long time.”

“So, this is all about money for you?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “I guess the rumors about you are true, then. A man with no honor, who is as cold as ice, like the name of his?—”

Dorian’s blue eyes lit up with anger, the first bit of true emotion that she had seen from him during the entire confrontation, and he surged forward.

Anastasia’s words died in her throat as his large body came close to hers, driving her back until her back came in contact with the wall.

She could go no further, and still, he advanced.

One of his hands came to rest on the wall beside her head, and he glowered down at her, his chest heaving.

He was so close that the warmth of his breath brushed against her skin, and warring emotions tore through her as she gazed up at him through long, dark lashes.

“Do not insult a man’s honor,” he growled. “You will not like the result.”

Heat rushed through her at the look in his eyes and the proximity of his body. Emboldened by his closeness, she raised her chin defiantly, holding his eyes as she did so.

“Or what, Your Grace?” she taunted, a smirk tugging up the corner of her lips.

She did not have time to react. One moment, a look of aggravation was flickering across his strong features, and the next moment, his lips were on hers.

His mouth was hard and punishing as it crashed into hers, and then, their mouths began to move together.

Anastasia sighed, confusion coursing through her as her traitorous body sank into the kiss.

Dorian’s hand came up to fist in her hair as his teeth brushed against her bottom lip.

This was not the kind of kiss that Anastasia had heard about in the tales of love she had been told growing up.

In those stories, the men were chivalrous and cautious, holding their women reverently.

But this? This was all fire and heat, crashing lips and anger.

Just as abruptly as the kiss had begun, it was over. Dorian untangled his hand from her hair and stepped back, Anastasia immediately feeling the loss of his warmth as he put more and more distance between them. His icy gaze raked up her body, and a smug smile darted across his lips.

She flushed with embarrassment as she realized where those lips had just been, and she pushed herself off of the wall.

“I figured that would be the only thing that would shut you up,” Dorian said, swiping his thumb along his bottom lip to wipe away any remnants of her. “The marriage contract stands.”