and his wife didn’t need a fire in the bedroom grate—they produced enough heat on their own. After seeing them together, he believed it.
“Well, the younger men were equally revolting. Cabbage heads, all of them—and that’s insulting the cabbage.”
“Miss Peterson—”
Meg waved her arm—and caught the shawl before it slipped far enough to reveal anything interesting.
“I don’t live at Knightsdale—I live at the vicarage with my father and his wife, Harriet—so I’m not even underfoot. Well, not under Emma’s feet at any rate. There is no need for her to worry about my future.”
“Still, it is perfectly natural that she’d want to see you well settled. Surely your father has made a push in that direction as well?”
Meg shook her head. “No. He hasn’t said a word about my marrying.”
“So he’s happy to have you spend your life with him?”
“Yes. No. Oh, botheration.” She frowned at a garish red vase on the mantle. “Truth be told, I’m certain he and Harriet would enjoy the privacy my absence would give them.” She sighed. “And I would like a home of my own. It’s not marriage I object to, it’s Emma’s meddling.” She turned and met his eyes. “If you must know, I came to London this Season with the express goal of finding a husband.”
“Then you should be happy to have achieved your purpose so quickly.” He could not keep an edge from his voice. Why did he feel this spurt of annoyance? She had been honest. And it was far from surprising. Lady Palmerson’s ballroom was filled with young ladies intent on exactly the same objective.
“Well, I…” She flushed. “I had thought to, um, spend more time looking.”
So she was not happy with him as her bridegroom? He gripped his hands tightly together. What was it about him that failed to impress the ladies of the ton? Hell, Grace had been so unimpressed she’d left him standing at the altar.
It wasn’t a mystery. He had no title. A mere mister could not hope to compete with a lord.
He should have left her to Viscount Bennington.
Parks was scowling. Of course he was. He obviously did not want to marry her. His tone of voice made that abundantly clear. Mauling her, though, that was another matter. Men must all be alike. They were happy to—oh.
She suddenly remembered exactly what she and Parks had been doing when Parks’s mother had entered the room.
Dear God.
She covered her face and moaned.
“What must your mother think of me? We were…I was…I looked like a…well, I won’t say what I looked like. It is too shocking. And Emma and I were squabbling like children.” Had Emma actually shouted at Mrs. Parker-Roth? “My sister could hardly have been more insulting. I’m certain your mother must want nothing to do with me or my family.”
“And I’m certain Mother understood completely. As she said, Jane got herself into a similar predicament last year. Mother was as upset then as your sister was just now.”
“Still, she cannot want you to marry me.”
“Miss Peterson, I hope you will not take it poorly, but some days I think my mother would be delighted if I wed the lowest scullery maid just as long as I wed someone. You say your sister thinks you must be married to be happy? Well, my mother has the same notion. She firmly believes that a man cannot find contentment without a wife at his side, guiding him in the right direction.”
Parks sounded extremely bitter.
“And you do not agree?”
“I do not!” He frowned, running his hand through his hair. “I do not wish to marry. Ever. My mother has been dragging me to Town for years, nagging me on the subject without mercy. Since I turned thirty, she has become relentless—and Westbrooke’s marriage has only made matters worse. I don’t doubt she is in ecstasy now that I’ve finally been tricked into parson’s mousetrap.”
“I did not trick you.” Meg felt another spurt of anger. Yes, the situation was monstrously unfortunate; yes, Parks had not chosen his fate; yes, in some regards his predicament was her fault. But she had not planned for things to happen as they had. She was almost as much a victim as he.
Well, perhaps not. Some people would doubtless have said she’d gotten her just desserts if she’d been forced to marry Lord Bennington.
Apparently one of those people was Mr. Parker-Roth.
“No, you did not trick me. However, if you had not been so bold as to disregard society’s rules—if you had not gone out into the garden with Bennington—” He tugged on his waistcoat and pressed his lips together. “Well, the least said about that, the better, I suppose.”
She did not care for his tone of voice at all.
“You do not have to marry me, sir.”
He looked exactly as if he’d eaten a lemon.
“Come, Miss Peterson, be sensible. You know as well as I do that we have to marry. Your reputation can only be mended by wedding vows.”
“No.” She wanted to hit something—like Mr. Parker-Roth. She hated being forced to act because of someone else’s rules. “There must be another way to solve this problem.”
“There is not.”
Yes, she would definitely like to hit the man. Perhaps a well placed punch in the chest would wipe that supercilious expression from his face.
“There are always alternatives.”
“Not this time. Not this problem. Your sister—your brother-in-law, the marquis—will not allow me to leave this room without offering for you.”
“Then offer. I just will not accept.”
“Miss Peterson, you—”
“Just ask me, sir.”
Parks clenched his teeth so hard his jaw flexed. He glared at her. She glared back.
“Oh, very well. Miss Peterson, will you do me the honor—the very great honor—of giving me your hand in marriage?”
Sarcasm did not become him. It was very easy to reply.
“No.”
“You can’t say no.”
“I just have. Is your hearing defective? Do I need to repeat myself? No. There. It is not a difficult word to understand.”
“Miss Peterson—”
The door swung open.
“So,” Emma said, “when is the wedding?”
Chapter 4
“I cannot
