Free Tallie's Knight by Anne Gracíe

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that a penniless girl could not bear the thought of marrying him. Part of him
concurred with his cousin that he would like to drown Miss Thalia Robinson. Or
strangle her slowly, taking her soft, creamy throat between his bare hands. But
an innate sense of fair play told him it would be a gross miscarriage of
justice if he allowed his cousin to turn Thalia Robinson out on the streets merely
because she didn’t wish to wed him.
    And he had been
uncannily disturbed by the sound of someone weeping in the maze. Weeping as if
their heart would break. Magnus hated it when women wept!
    He’d taken a few
steps into the maze and hovered there for some time, clenching and unclenching
his fists, listening helplessly. Not knowing what to do. Knowing who it was,
sobbing so piteously. Thalia Robinson.
    He had told himself
she’d brought it on herself, boasting to Laetitia of how she would spurn his
offer. He’d told himself she deserved to be miserable, that the girl must be a cold-hearted
little bitch. He’d made her an honourable offer —there was no need for her to
publicly humiliate him. He, who had long been regarded as the finest prize on the
marriage mart, hunted by matchmaking mamas and their daughters alike! Most
girls would have been grateful for an offer from him, but not Miss Thalia
Robinson. No. She planned to humiliate him —and so she was reaping what she had
sown. Her regrets had come too late.
    Magnus had told
himself all these things, but they hadn’t helped —he just couldn’t bear the
sound of a woman sobbing.
    The part of him that
didn’t want to strangle her had wanted to go into the maze and speak to her —and
what a stupid idea that would have been!
    As if women ever made
any sense when they were weeping. And as if he would know what to do anyway. He’d
always managed to stop them crying by giving them some bauble or other, but
then all the women he’d ever known had cried at him, not taken themselves into
the middle of a maze on a damned cold day and sobbed their little hearts out in
absolute solitude.
    Magnus was sure he
wouldn’t know how to deal with someone who wept like that.
    “Tish, I intend to
withdraw my offer. She cannot refuse me if there is no offer, so you need not
worry about any insult to the family pride. No one will know of it. I will
speak to the girl before any irrevoc—”
    He faltered for a
moment, recalling those cheeky last words: make no irrevocable arrangements.
Thalia Robinson had not realised she was sounding her own doom.
    “Before any
irrevocable steps have been taken. Have her sent to me at once, if you please.”
    “But, Magnus—”
    “At once, Tish.”
    “Oh, very well. But
it will make no diff—”
    But Magnus had left.
    Laetitia pulled the
bell cord to summon Brooks.
    Magnus decided to
receive Miss Robinson in the library. He would speak kindly to her, show her he
bore her no grudge for her poor judgement.
    She would have no
idea that she had, somehow, got under his skin. He would be casual, relaxed, indifferent.
He would not receive her in formal dress, as a gentleman would normally do when
receiving a lady’s answer to his proposal of marriage. His offhand manner would
be conveyed by the silent message of his riding buckskins. It would appear to
be a spur of the moment chat, the outcome of which held only lukewarm interest
for him.
    His brow furrowed as
he tried to recall every detail of their previous conversation. A cold smile
grew on his face as he realised he had not actually asked her to marry him. Not
in so many words. He had spoken of an intention to organise a ceremony. Had
used the conditional tense. Thank heavens. He might be able to fudge it. He
would make Miss Robinson understand she was mistaken, that he’d made her no
actual offer.
    It was not an
honourable solution, but it should smooth things over with Laetitia —enough to
stop her throwing the wretched girl into the streets. And then he would get the
hell out of this appalling house