“Come. I’ll walk you home.” He held out his hand. “Once we’ve both slept on it, we’ll find a way out of this silly impasse.”

It was the worst thing he could have said in such a lightly dismissive tone. “You think it’s silly?” Petra demanded, sounding incredulous. “You can dismiss my wishes, my concerns, so flippantly.” She pushed past him into the hall. “I don’t want your company, Guy. I intend to walk home alone. If you insist on following me it will make everything worse.” Taking her hat and gloves from Babbit, she stalked out of the house, walking quickly, almost blindly, back to Brook Street. She half expected to hear his steps behind her, but there was only a deafening silence.

How could such a glorious afternoon turn so dismal in the space of five minutes? One moment there was a whole wonderful future to anticipate, the next a wasteland.

She walked blindly into the house and up to her bedroom, closing the door behind her and sitting numbly on the bed, making no attempt to take off her hat and gloves.

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

Guy stepped back into the library and closed the door. He poured himself a whisky from the decanter on the sideboard and went to the French doors, staring sightlessly out at the large garden, bathed in the last rays of the setting sun.

How the hell had that gone so wrong? One minute Petra was radiant, her usual vivacious self, eager to plan for a future, and the next, she was as stubborn and mutinous as a mule. Prepared to cancel that future for something so unimportant.

But was it unimportant?

Honesty raised its inconvenient head. If it was unimportant, why was he insisting on following his own wishes? But he knew why. He had too many secrets, even if most of them were imagined. Once the engagement notice was published tongues would be wagging, the gossips would have a field day. Guy Granville, confirmed rake and bachelor, had been finally dragged to the altar, with an innocent, not quite ingénue, to boot. There would be endless speculation as to how Petra Rutherford had captured such a prize, and if society was presented with a fait accompli then the gossips would have even more to play with. Why was the wedding celebrated quietly, in secret? What were they hiding? What was wrong?

He wouldn’t subject Petra to that.