Page 121 of A Very Bellamy Christmas

Because he could make the word dishrag sound alluring.

“Why is it so hard to accept that I am enjoying myself here with you?” he asked.

“Because…”

“Ah, yes. Your favorite reason: because.”

Irked by his teasing, she said, “Because you have never even noticed me before. Why are you doing so now? Is it—is it just because I am convenient?” Stacia immediately wished she could take her questions back.

He inhaled deeply, and a new expression flitted across his gorgeous features: indecision.

Lord Andrew Shelton was many things—arrogant, insouciant, flirtatious, cavalier, dismissive, charming, amusing, mocking—but Stacia had never seen anything less than absolute assurance on his face.

His hand, which was still holding hers, began to slide away, but Stacia held on.

Both his eyebrows raised at her brazen action, but he did not pull away. Instead, his lips, which she now knew were soft and outrageously skilled, curled up at the corners.

“Hmmm, I don’t know…” he drawled, his tone once again teasing. “You want answers for free? I am tempted to demand we play another round of Questions or Com—”

“You asked me yesterday what I did that made my aunt and cousin angry with me. It was because I rejected an offer of marriage. That is why they rejected me. They said I had made my own bed, and that I could sleep in it.”

Stacia was pitifully grateful when he did not look particularly surprised, as if the thought of a man offering to marry her was not so outside the realm of possibility.

“Who was it?” he asked, no longer teasing.

She shrugged and pulled her hand away, disappointed when he let her go. “What difference does that make?”

“I need to know who I have to keep my eye on when I take you to London.”

She snorted. “I never said I would marry you,” she reminded him. “Furthermore, when and if I marry, I would not be the sort of woman to engage in dalliances.”

Rather than look offended at her rejection, he gave her a boyish grin. “Tell me who it is, anyhow. It will stop me from eyeing every man with suspicion.”

“You are being absurd, my lord. Besides, if anyone had a reason to eye everyone with suspicion it would be your w-wife.” Stacia wanted to kick herself for stumbling over the word.

“Oh?” he said, wearing an innocent expression he had no right to, she was sure. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. I daresay the ballrooms of the ton are littered with your—your—”

“Are you trying to say the word lovers?”

“You know exactly what I mean,” she snapped.

“You are adorable when you scowl.” He pulled a face—which she assumed was supposed to be her—and Stacia couldn’t help laughing. “There,” he said. “That is better. Now, be a good girl and tell me who you rejected.”

“I don’t see why I should.”

“Because I am tenacious.”

She could believe it. Well, what difference did it make if he knew? “The Earl of Townshend.”

His eyes went vague for a moment before they widened. “Not the one who breathes through—”

“He has to breathe through his mouth because he has terrible allergies,” Stacia said icily.

“Ah.”

Stacia snatched a cobnut off the table. If he laughed, she would throw it at him.