Regency Society Collection Part 2. Ann Lethbridge

of disappointment she felt, and was surprised by it, for why she should care whether he had kissed Miss Howard or not bemused her.

      Alex’s smile was merciless. ‘Are you wondering how you compare?’

      Two high spots of angry colour mounted Angelina’s cheeks. ‘Of course I’m not—and please don’t be crude, Alex. You must forgive me if I appear stupid—but I am confused, you see. By you. I never know quite what to expect. Will you tell me why you kissed me when you came to my room? A man of your experience—you knew exactly what you were doing. I’m not used to that sort of thing, you see. I don’t go around kissing people.’

      ‘I hope not.’ His lips quirked with wry amusement at her naïvety, and then, raking his fingers through his hair, he sighed, no longer in any mood for the light banter that had laced their conversation so far. ‘I’m sorry, Angel. I never meant for it to happen. It was wrong of me to take advantage of you. You must forget it happened.’

      But I can’t, Angelina almost shouted at him. That’s the trouble. The memory of that night lingered far too strongly for her to discount its effect on her. ‘So,’ she said, ‘your intentions weren’t honourable when you entered my room and took advantage of me in my weakened state.’

      She tried to sound light and flippant when she spoke, but somehow it didn’t sound like that to Alex. When he heard the tell-tale catch of hurt in her voice, it was so touching and tragic that he was moved in spite of himself. In a blinding flash it dawned on him that she might expect him to say he loved her, and if so he must put a crushing end to it before she had time to nurture the idea.

      ‘I entered your room because I heard you were distressed. I wanted to comfort you—and it should have stopped at that. In time you will learn that kissing does not bring commitment. Understand this, Angelina. For a moment I may have lost my head, but I am not going to make any undying declarations of love. I don’t need any woman—and I don’t need the added guilt and responsibility of a naïve eighteen-year-old girl. The ritualistic proposal that usually follows such encounters will not come from me.’

      His words sounded so final, so insulting, that Angelina felt as though she had been slapped. An icy numbness crept over her body, shattering all her tender feelings for him. Deeply regretting the impulse that had brought her to his rooms to offer words of comfort, she now realised she should have stayed away, for he did not deserve either sympathy or understanding from her. She expelled her breath in a rush of tempestuous fury as the fragile unity they had shared moments ago was shattered and the battle that constantly simmered beneath the surface between them was resumed.

      ‘How dare you mock my feelings. What a callous, self-opinionated, loathsome blackguard you are.’

      He arched an eyebrow, his tone one of irony when he spoke. ‘Yes, I am all those things. What did you expect—some infallible being?’

      ‘No, not that. How excruciatingly naïve you must find me. Just to set the record straight, my lord, I do not expect a proposal. It never entered my head.’

      ‘It didn’t?’ He seemed genuinely surprised.

      ‘Why, you conceited ass,’ she flared. ‘Cast your mind back to my arrival at your house in London. I told you then that I have no intention of marrying—nor will I become any man’s light-of-love, fawned over today and forgotten tomorrow. I meant it then and I mean it now. Matrimony is not for me. I will not sacrifice myself on that particular altar for any man.

      ‘But should I change my mind, my lord,’ she seethed, planting her hands firmly on either side of her tiny waist and thrusting her angry face closer to his, her eyes sparking with ire, ‘if you were the last man on earth I would never marry you. I find the whole idea of us forming any kind of relationship quite ludicrous.’

      ‘I agree,’ Alex snapped rudely, his cold, threatening gaze impaling Angelina to the spot as he moved closer to where she stood. ‘You, my pet, would make an exceedingly poor wife.’

      ‘And you, my lord, would make an exceedingly poor husband,’ Angelina countered furiously, humiliated to the core of her being by his unkindness. ‘However, one thing has changed since last we spoke. I have told Verity that I will concede to everyone’s wish and be introduced into society at the next Season.’

      ‘What! With all the glitz and ostentation?’ He smiled wryly. ‘God help all those unsuspecting males when you descend on them. But do you realise that when you make your début you will be making yourself available to every unattached male in the country?’

      ‘That does not mean to say I have to accept any of them. I value my freedom and independence too highly to give it up.’

      Alex’s face could have been carved from a block of granite. ‘So, unlike others of your sex, you harbour no ambition to snare a wealthy husband.’

      ‘Material wealth does not interest me. But if I did marry, I would marry the meanest pauper if I loved him and he returned that love. But what of you? Don’t any of the ladies of your acquaintance fall in love with you? Oh, I’m sorry,’ she exclaimed heatedly, glowering at the man before her and tossing her head back haughtily, the curls on either side of her face doing a frenzied dance. ‘What a stupid thing to ask you of all people, when half the female population in England must have been in love with Alex Montgomery at one time or another. But what do they love about you, Alex? Your wealth? Your title? What you can give them? Don’t any of them love you for just yourself? Oh, I pity you. What a lonely, bitter old man you will be in years to come.’

      Alex’s jaw hardened. ‘I told you I do not need any woman’s love. I certainly do not want it. If my mother taught me anything at all, it is that love is more destroying than hate.’

      ‘That is not true. Love is what is essential to make a marriage work. Money has no place when it comes to happiness.’

      ‘That is the kind of sentimental drivel spoken only by romantic young girls and idiots,’ Alex uttered with biting scorn.

      ‘Which is precisely what I am.’

      ‘And is only for the naïve,’ he mocked cruelly.

      ‘Then I am also naïve.’

      ‘I know that, too.’

      ‘Oh, my, Alex,’ Angelina remarked, her tone heavily laced with sarcasm. ‘Your notion of love is nothing more substantial than mere indulgence. The only kind you seem to know about is the kind made between the sheets. You really are so insecure and disenchanted with life that I find myself feeling almost sorry for you.’

      He fixed his cold eyes on her. ‘Don’t. Men in my position must marry to beget an heir, and after fulfilling that requirement—’

      ‘Don’t tell me. They are then free to enjoy their mistresses,’ she flung at him derisively, her fiery, angry spirit giving her a radiance that reminded Alex of all the female attributes that stood just within his reach, a radiance that was drawing him towards her with increasing power. ‘What a degenerate blackguard you are, Alex Montgomery, with mistresses strewn all over London town. That’s what you like, isn’t it? Pedigree ladies who look good. Ladies who don’t make you feel too much. But where is the decency in that, pray? Have you no conscience—no sense of honour?’

      ‘Apparently not,’ he answered, torn between anger, amusement and desire as he looked down at her proud beauty. ‘I will not change the way I live my life, and I make no apologies for it either. But I do not recall you complaining when I kissed you,’ he said on a softer note, moving closer, his gaze devouring her face.

      Suddenly the walls seemed to close in on them, making each aware of the closeness of the other, of the warmth, the intimacy. The pull of Alex’s eyes was far harder for Angelina to resist at that moment than the frantic beat of her heart.

      ‘Don’t you dare touch me,’ she warned, unable to move towards the door because he blocked her way. ‘I swear that if your hand comes anywhere near me I’ll shred it to the bone, you vile, despicable knave.’

      His laugh was merciless, his