Page 82 of Seduced By a Scoundrel

“You know why.”

“I do not,” he said, firmly. “I understand that I must earn your trust.”

“You are a marquess.”

“So it says on the coat of arms.”

“And you are infuriating.”

“I’m not sure it says that. Though my Latin is rusty, I admit.”

“Keir. You cannot make light of this. You will marry someone… proper.”

“You are an earl’s daughter.”

“An adopted daughter,” she reminded him. “And far from proper. You know that better than most.”

“I don’t care,” he said stubbornly.

“You used to. And you will again. The ton thinks I am too much.”

“The ton can go hang.”

“You once told me I was too much,” she reminded him archly.

“I was an idiot.” When he noticed she practically had to skip to keep up with him, he shortened his strides. “The truth was, I have not been enough.”

That last splinter of ice she had nurtured to protect herself began to melt.

Blast.

Luckily, this was not the time to discuss it.

“You know what I do with the Spinsters now,” she could not help but add. “That wouldn’t change.”

“I know.”

“I’ve taken down several men, you know. Friends, maybe.”

“They were no friends of mine,” he said, affronted. He paused. “Although I admit I was polite enough with them in Society, and that… does not sit well.”

“You didn’t know.”

“I knew many of them were not good men. I’ll do better, Sybil,” he said quietly, seriously, and she believed him. “I can promise you that.”

“I didn’t know you were a member here,” Sybil said moments later, when they stopped in front of a bay window gleaming with candlelight.

“I’m not. I asked for a week-long trial this morning.”

“Do they do that?”

He shrugged. “They do now.”

“Lord Blackburn,” the butler greeted them immediately. Warmth and loud chatter enveloped them. The clubs were all the same. Where was the knife-throwing target? The obstacle course? “Welcome, welcome, your lordship.” He snapped his fingers at a nearby footman. “William will take your coat, your hats.”

“Just a tour tonight, thank you,” Keir said smoothly. If Sybil took off her hat, her pinned hair would be obvious to all. “We’ll have a wander. And a brandy, if you please.”

The footmen took off as though a race had been declared.