Page 37 of Outrageous

He could make even that single word sound superior and condescending. Eva wanted to hit him, but that was nothing new. “Tell me, my lord, how do they know people actually consummate their unions? Do they send a witness into the room with them?”

“Yes.”

Eva gasped, her eyes bulging. “But that’s—that’s—”

Low laughter rippled through the carriage, wrapping around her like a warm blanket, and heating her body so quickly that her palms were suddenly damp.

“You’re a toad.”

His teeth flashed a startling white in the grim gray of the carriage.

“Why do they care if people c-consummate their marriages or not?” Eva wanted to slap herself for stammering over that word like a green girl, but at least the horrid beast didn’t laugh.

“I daresay they don’t really care what people do—they just want to sell a room,” he admitted after a moment of silence, his voice weary.

“You sound tired,” she said, and then wanted to bite off her tongue for broaching the potentially dangerous topic. But perhaps he wouldn’t—

But of course he did. His lips twitched into a smirk. “I didn’t sleep a wink last night.”

“Oh.” That was all she was saying about that particular subject. She stared out the window at nothing, starting slightly when he spoke a long moment later.

“I have a difficult time sleeping under the best of conditions, and this situation is hardly the best.”

Eva looked at him from beneath her lashes; he seemed sincere enough, the suggestive smirk nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he just wanted to make conversation? Eva dithered for a moment, and then asked, “Why do you have difficulty sleeping?”

He sighed audibly.

Good Lord! Just what did he want from her? “I’m sorry,” she snapped. “Am I not supposed to ask about that, either? In addition to not asking you about your family or the war? Tell me, what am I allowed to talk about?”

“Why don’t we talk about you?” His expression was hard and unreadable, but his voice was silky and dangerous.

Eva crossed her arms and hugged herself tightly, as if that might keep her from flying apart. But the thoughts had begun to whirl and multiply in her brain. Why did he have to behave in such a high-handed and confusing manner? And why did her body have such a powerful attraction to him, when her mind hated and loathed and wanted to get away from him? What was wrong with her to want to touch him so badly? Why did she want to make him like her? It was so pathetic. Why was he such a—a cad? A smug, hateful cad.

She inhaled shakily as the questions careened and crowded her mind.

“Well?” he said.

“Well what?” she repeated, genuinely confused.

“You were going to tell me a bit about yourself—your family.”

Eva looked at his expressionless face, his opaque eyes, and wanted to make him feel something—and to show those feelings—for a change.

“Fine. Let me guess,” she said in a tone dripping with sarcasm. “You’d like to talk about my mad mother—whom you’ve certainly mentioned more than once over the past few months. Am I right?” Before he could answer, her anger catapulted her onward. “I can’t tell you much about her because I was only five when she threw herself off the roof at Exham Castle. I’ve heard—from some of the lovely people I’ve rubbed shoulders with these past months—that she was something of a tart who fucked her way through half the ton. There is living, breathing proof of that in the form of my younger sister Melissa—who one kindly dowager referred to as a cuckoo in Exley’s nest. Within my hearing.” She leaned toward him, mirroring his earlier action. “But what you’re really curious about is whether my mother’s madness runs through me. You want to know if you’ll have to lock me in an attic at some point and hire a gaoler to keep me from mounting a stable lad or setting the house on fire or flinging myself from the roof of—what’s the name of my new home?” she asked with exaggerated courtesy. “Horrid House? Conceited Court? Arrogant Abbey?”

His lips twitched. “Cross Hall.”

The tinge of amusement in his voice only made her more furious. “I can see you’ve not got the nerve to spell out what you wish to know.” Eva let all the loathing she felt at this moment saturate her tone. “But I’d like to settle the issue once and for all,” she said, her words an echo of his earlier command. “So I’ll answer your unspoken question: I don’t know if I’ll go mad, my lord. I don’t currently feel any desire to leap off rooftops or eat the sitting room carpet, but I cannot give my word those compulsions will not one day seize me. I daresay you think that is an unsatisfactory answer. As it happens—so do I. While I have to live with such irksome uncertainty every day of my life, I’d rather not have to discuss it ad nauseam.”

The very air rang with her sharp, cold words and Eva could sense the shock emanating from him. Whether at the pronouncement itself or her vulgar language, she couldn’t have said, nor did she particularly care.

Eva had begun to hope he was done talking to her—hopefully for the rest of both their lives—when he said, “I apologize for any pain I’ve caused you these past months.”

His words left her temporarily breathless. When she finally spoke, her voice was gruff. “Nothing you said caused me any pain,” she lied.

“Even so, my behavior shames me.” He hesitated and then added, “I imagine living with such uncertainty is a crushing burden.”

To her horror, tears pricked her eyes. Blast and damn. A hateful, sarcastic Visel she could manage. Even an amorous, lustful Visel. But an apologetic, understanding Visel? No, that was something she’d not prepared herself for. She clamped her jaws shut and swallowed hard to rid herself of the dry lump that had lodged itself in her throat.