Page 48 of To Pleasure a Prince

“I do not need your help! I do not need anyone’s help.” Realizing he’d sunk so far into the morass he might never get out, he decided that retreat was best. “I’ve had enough of this nonsense. Good evening, madam.”

As he stalked toward the door, she called out, “Lord Draker?”

“What?” he snapped without breaking stride.

“Since you cannot behave as a gentleman and do not seem willing to learn how, I am afraid I shall have to forgo the pleasure of your company.”

He halted. “You’re refusing to hold to your end of the bargain after all.”

“I agreed to a proper courtship. And you clearly do not know what that is.”

“Confound it all, I do know—” He broke off, realizing he had sunk in way over his head. “Fine. Then tell your damned brother to go to perdition. Because if I don’t have your company, he doesn’t get Louisa’s.”

He stormed out, nearly colliding with Miss Tremaine, who was eavesdropping outside the door. He paused just long enough to cast her a dark glance. “Congratulations. You’re rid of me at last.”

Then he fled.

Chapter Eleven

Young charges can be sly in their ways. A good chaperone must anticipate every eventuality.

—Miss Cicely Tremaine,The Ideal Chaperone

Marcus threw himself into his carriage and roared at the coachman to go on. A pox on her, a pox on them all. He must have been insane to enter into such a nightmare bargain in the first place. Lessons! The chit wanted to get him lessons in deportment, for God’s sake!

“Marcus, are you all right?” Louisa asked from the seat opposite his.

“I’m fine.” Wonderful, now that he’d banished Lady Lofty from his life.

No more nights spent at his brother’s town house to avoid the long drive back to Castlemaine. No more livery costs for his horses and carriage. No more dressing for the evening just to have a haughty female criticize the cut of his coat.

No more sparring with that razor-tongued witch. No more stimulating exchanges. No more hot, ravening kisses in the dark. No more forbidden tastes of her honey-sweet flesh…

Damn the wench, why did she do this to him?

It didn’t matter; it was over now. So what if she thought he was incapable of behaving himself? That’s what he wanted, wasn’t it?

No, damn it. He wanted to prove that her friends were a pack of wolves who would tear the average gentleman to shreds. That his sister would never be welcomed among them because of their idiotic expectations.

Notbecause he couldn’t follow the rules. He could be as much a gentleman as the next fellow if he chose.

That’s what incompetent fellows always protest when they don’t know how to dance or behave properly or say the right things.

Great God, she was driving him mad!

“Marcus?” Louisa said, into the rumbling noise of the carriage. “Did you mean what you said? That Simon and you and I could go riding together?”

Damn. Now he had to deal with Louisa’s expectations. “The situation has changed.”

Even in the grey half-light of street and carriage lamps, he could see his sister’s frown. “How so?”

“Foxmoor will no longer be accompanying you places.”

An alarming paleness spread over her cheeks. “Why not?”

“Because he won’t, that’s all.”

Louisa glared at him. “I take it that you said something horrible to Lady Regina. That’s why she was so cool to you. Oh, Marcus, what did you do?”