The gray eyes filmed with ice. “Your wants matter nothing to me, Everingham. The only question I care about is, does my niece want you? And she doesn’t.”

“I think she does. I think she’s just nervous, like a filly being brought to stud for the first time.”

“My niece is not a filly.” Ashendon’s voice was icily savage.

“No, she’s not,” Hart said, soothing ruffled feathers. “It was a clumsy and inappropriate analogy.”

There was a short silence, filled only by the rumbling of thunder. A moment later, rain started pelting down.

Hart spoke again. “Look, we can dance around the issue all morning, but let us not waste time. Having compromised your niece—and without resorting to vulgarity, let me just point out that she was not an unwilling participant, no matter what kind of girl you imagine she is—I’m doing the gentlemanly thing and preventing a scandal by making her an honorable offer. You know I’ll be generous with the settlements.” After all, they had negotiated the financial arrangements for his marriage to the earl’s sister Rose only a short time before. Ashendon knew who and what he was dealing with.

Hart stood. He was impatient to get things settled. “So, do we have an agreement?” It wasn’t really a question. With his niece compromised and a betrothal notice in the papers, Ashendon had no other choice but to agree. Hart’s visit was a mere formality.

To Hart’s surprise, a faint note of amusement lightened the flinty gray eyes. “You have a lot to learn about Rutherford women, Everingham. I’m George’s uncle, not her keeper. She makes up her own mind. It’s not me you have to convince—it’s George.”

Hart frowned. The marriage was necessary. Surely there was no doubt. “I presume you’ve explained the situation to her.”

“Oh, she knows the situation.” Ashendon seemed to be almost enjoying himself now. “But George isn’t your average young lady.”

Of course she wasn’t. Hart would never have contemplated marriage with her otherwise. “May I speak to her?”

“I’ll see if she’s home.” Ashendon pulled the bell cord.

“Surely she knew I was coming. I sent you that note.”

Ashendon gave an enigmatic smile. “Yes, but George dances to her own tune.”

Just as the butler returned with the information that Lady Georgiana had gone out with her dog, they heard the front door open.

The first sign that she’d returned from her walk early was the wet and muddy dog that came bounding into the room. A moment later Lady Georgiana followed.