“Your arrogance is misplaced, sirrah! Far from wanting you, she was quite vocal in her dislike of you—and I see now she has a point. In any case the ridiculous child has declared far and wide that she would rather live with dogs and horses than marry.”

That silenced him, she could see. She added, with crisp satisfaction, “I had thought, your grace, that marriage to a young woman of good family, an independently minded young woman who would not hang off your sleeve, a girl who wants nothing more than to retire to a country estate and be left to breed horses, dogs—and possibly children—would be exactly what you required. A wife who would keep out of your way and give you no trouble.” She paused to let that sink in. It was exactly the kind of wife he’d described back when Rose was the bride being considered.

She made an airily dismissive gesture. “Even so, it would have taken all my considerable powers of persuasion to coax Georgiana to wed you.”

His eyes grew flintier, and she added with barely concealed relish, “I would not be surprised if we’d had to drag her to the altar in the end. My niece is a headstrong gel who disdains the advice of her elders and betters. You, sir, are equally stubborn. Almost, I think, you deserve each other, but since you both lack a proper attitude to marriage—and to me!—I wash my hands of you.” She sailed from the room in high dudgeon.

*   *   *

“I’m not at home,” Hart told his butler after Lady Salter had left. “Not to anyone.”

The news of his aborted wedding had spread like wildfire through the ton. His doorbell had been jangling constantly ever since, with women—ladies of the ton—eager to soothe his injured feelings and shove him straight back into the marital noose, if not with themselves, then with their daughter or niece or granddaughter.

To hell with them all. He’d had it with women—no, not with women, with ladies.

He tried to resume his correspondence, but the annoyance lingered. What the devil business of anyone else’s was it whether he married or not? He knew he needed to get an heir, but what was the hurry? He wasn’t yet thirty. And just because he’d been brought up to the mark once didn’t mean he was ready to do it again, dammit.

Because look how well that had ended.