“That was my surprise,” Margerite bubbled like the wine in her glass. “My little make-up present.” Following a prearranged signal, she set her napkin aside and rose. “I’m sure you two will excuse me while I powder my nose.”

Knowing he only had fifteen minutes to complete his mission, Channing immediately took Sydney’s hand. “I’ve missed you, darling. It seems like weeks since I’ve had a moment alone with you.”

Skillfully Sydney slipped her hand from him. “It has been weeks. How have you been, Channing?”

“Desolate without you.” He skimmed a fingertip up her bare arm. She really had exquisite skin. “When are we going to stop playing these games, Sydney?”

“I haven’t been playing.” She took a sip of wine. “I’ve been working.”

A trace of annoyance clouded his eyes then cleared. He was sure Margerite was right. Once they were married, she would be too busy with him to bother with a career. It was best to get right to the point. “Darling, we’ve been seeing each other for months now. And of course, we’ve known each other for years. But things have changed.”

She met his eyes. “Yes, they have.”

Encouraged, he took her hand again. “I haven’t wanted to rush you, but I feel it’s time we take the next step. I care for you very much, Sydney. I find you lovely and amusing and sweet.”

“And suitable,” she muttered.

“Of course. I want you to be my wife.” He slipped a box from his pocket, opened the lid so that the round icy diamond could flash in the candlelight.

“Channing—”

“It reminded me of you,” he interrupted. “Regal and elegant.”

“It’s beautiful, Channing,” she said carefully. And cold, she thought. So very cold. “And I’m sorry, but I can’t accept it. Or you.”

Shock came first, then a trickle of annoyance. “Sydney, we’re both adults. There’s no need to be coy.”

“What I’m trying to be is honest.” She shifted in her chair, and this time it was she who took his hands. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am that my mother led you to believe I’d feel differently. By doing so, she’s put us both in an embarrassing position. Let’s be candid, Channing. You don’t love me, and I don’t love you.”

Insulted, he pokered up. “I hardly think I’d be offering marriage otherwise.”

“You’re offering it because you find me attractive, you think I’d make an excellent hostess, and because I come from the same circle as you. Those are reasons for a merger, not a marriage.” She closed the lid on the diamond and pressed the box into his hands. “I make a poor wife, Channing, that much I know. And I have no intention of becoming one again.”