"It would appear that none of these attributes belongs to me," murmured his Grace, and wondered if she would weep. He had never a taste for a weeping woman.
But Diana was proud. She realised that tears, prayers and all would avail her nothing, and she was determined not to break down, at least in his presence. Tracy was surprised to see her arrange her skirts and settle back against the cushions in the most unconcerned manner possible.
"Then, since you are so ungallant, sir, pray tell me what you purpose doing with me?" The tone was light, even bantering, but with his marvellous, almost uncanny perspicacity, he sensed the breathless terror behind it.
"Why, my dear, I had planned to marry you," he answered, bowing.
The knuckles gleamed white on her clenched hand. "And if I refuse?"
"I do not think you will refuse, my dear." She could not repress a shiver.
"I do refuse!" she cried sharply.
The smile with which he received this statement drove the blood cold in her veins.
"Wait. I think you will be glad to marry me—in the end," he drawled.
Her great eyes were hunted, desperate, and her face was very white. The dry lips parted.