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How had this happened? “Ruined you?” His throat was dry, and his voice came out rather hoarse.

“Yes!” She rummaged through her pocket, then took out a piece of paper—a gossip column?—and nudged it toward him.

Tyrone took a step and cautiously grabbed the newspaper cutout from her. He scanned the words, and finally, everything became clear.

That’s where he remembered her from!

He’d tackled her away from the steam carriage’s path. His confidence returning, he met her gaze. “I saved you.”

“And in the process of saving me, you ruined me,” she countered.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Would you rather be dead?”

“I’d rather be married,” she answered without missing a beat.

Tyrone almost laughed. He had to hand it to the young miss. She had gumption and resolve. Under any other circumstances, they could have been friends.

“And I’d rather not.” He walked toward the hearth and threw the crumpled paper into the fire. “Marrying a duke. What a lovely opportunity, isn’t it?”

“You think I want to marry you?” She sounded repulsed by the notion. “You think I am looking forward to the prospect?”

“You are here, aren’t you?” He raised a brow and leaned one shoulder against the hearth.

“I am only here as a last resort.” She waved a hand toward the flames. “The paper you so cavalierly burnt has destroyed my life, my family. I had a loving fiancé, you see, who now refuses to even speak to me because of that hurtful article. My sisters are doomed to wear the mantle of ruined women because of something that happened to me! And my brother—”

“If your fiancé was indeed loving,” Tyrone mocked the mere notion with his tone as he interrupted the long tirade, “then why won’t he marry you now? He can save your reputation, you know.”

Her face turned crimson, her hands fisted at her sides as her entire body stiffened. If he didn’t know better, he’d have thought she was going to explode. “Because men are despicable!”

He let out a snort. “Well, I certainly am not going to disprove that.”

She opened her mouth and stood there frozen for a long moment. So long, in fact, that Tyrone was beginning to think she had frozen in place. “How can you call yourself a gentleman when you refuse to help a lady in trouble?” she finally asked, her voice pleasantly hoarse.

Sun filtered through the window, bathing the room in a glow of color.

He smiled lazily and shook his head. He was enjoying himself, he realized. “I never said I was a gentleman.”

“Please,” she breathed. He could see that she was not a lady used to begging. But begging she was. “I shall do anything you want.”

“Anything?” He cocked a brow as he studied her form suggestively, his tongue tracing his upper lip.

“Anything.” Her words were firm.

He narrowed his eyes, and a sly smile touched his lips. “Then I want you to leave and never return.”

Chapter Five

Emily exited the house and took a moment to collect her wits. She inhaled deeply and bit her lip to keep it from trembling. She’d failed again.

The carriage door opened, and the Earl of Sutton jumped out, approaching her swiftly and offering his arm. “It didn’t go well, I take it.”

Emily shook her head and gripped his forearm, slowly making her way down the stairs and into his waiting carriage. “It did not. He refuses to have any association with me.”

The earl nodded and gently handed her into the carriage, then settled across from her.

She looked out the window, wondering if more scandal was going to follow her after it became known that she was gallivanting around town in the earl’s carriage, and without a chaperone. Could one be more ruined than she already was? She had no money, no prospects, only scandal.

“Do not worry, Miss Fitzwilliam,” the earl said as if sensing her turmoil. “You shall have a bridegroom by the end of this week.”