Cal grunted. “I’ll see what the fellow has to say. And it had better be good.” He retrieved his newspaper, shook it out and retreated behind it.

“I won’t marry him,” George muttered.

“I believe I’ve noted that, George,” came a rumble from behind the newspaper. “I wasn’t deaf the first time you said it and the following thirty-eight repetitions have been quite unnecessary.”

There was a moment of quiet, broken only by the ticking clock. Then Emm said thoughtfully, “If Cal has seen the notice, Aunt Agatha will have too.” She glanced at the clock. “I give it another fifteen minutes before she arrives.”

“Oh, lord.” Calling Finn to her, George fled.

*   *   *

At precisely one minute to eleven Hart rang the Ashendon doorbell. The butler bowed, said his grace was expected and ushered Hart into the library. Cal Rutherford, very much Earl of Ashendon, stood in front of the fireplace, ramrod straight and wearing the famous Rutherford scowl.

It looked better on his niece. Hart gave the earl a curt nod. “Ashendon.”

“Everingham.”

There was a short silence. It became clear that Ashendon wasn’t going to invite him to be seated, but Hart was damned if he would be treated like a naughty schoolboy, so he chose a leather armchair and sank into it with every appearance of casual unconcern.

The Rutherford scowl darkened.

“Stop looking at me like that. You know as well as I do that it had to be done. We were caught in flagrante,” Hart said after a moment.

“Yes, and how the hell did that happen?” Ashendon growled. “My niece is not that kind of girl.”

Hart, who thought she was very much that kind of girl, shrugged. “No use repining over spilled milk. What’s done is done.”

“Stop hiding behind clichés,” Ashendon snapped.

“Clichés exist for a reason. Without wishing to hash over the past, let us agree that having allowed Georgiana to be caught in a compromising position, I am honor bound to marry her.”

“And placing that blasted notice in the blasted papers without so much as a by-your-blasted-leave? How do you explain that?”

“An accident,” Hart lied smoothly. “I had drafted a notice in anticipation of the event, and an overefficient secretary acted without my knowledge.” He spread his hands in a what-can-you-do movement. “Of course, as soon as I saw it in the paper, I contacted you.”

There was a long silence. Ashendon eyed him coldly. “You know she doesn’t want you.”

“She doesn’t know what she wants. Yet.”

Ashendon snorted. “You don’t know her very well, do you?”

Hart shrugged. “That’s immaterial. Most couples get to know each other after marriage.”

Ashendon’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you really pursuing this? You could have any woman in the ton. Why pursue a girl who doesn’t want you?”

“I want her.” It was risky being so blunt, but they were men of the world, after all.