Free Midnight Temptations With a Forbidden Lord by Tiffany Clare

as the sun, my lady.” Even a compliment from him managed to sound like an insult.
    With her back to him as he handed her up into the carriage, her smile pinched into a look of disgust. Why did Mr. Warren want to marry her if he was going to come into his own wealth when he took the Fallon title? Her cousin was right. Her fifty thousand pounds wouldn’t matter once the earldom was his. So why not take a more biddable wife?
    All she could come up with was that there must be a political alliance between Mr. Warren and her father. Did they plan to join forces in Parliament? It didn’t matter right now; what mattered was putting on a pleasant expression as they rode through the park.
    The ivory-colored carriage was open, with a small leather seat that sat no more than one person in the back and a bench in the front that was fit for only two. She would have to bump legs with Mr. Warren for the next half hour.
    His grays were hitched up to the carriage, their manes braided and heads held high. How cruel to make a horse stand in such an unnatural position. This display of wealth and brutality was yet another reason for her to despise him.
    With her cousin sitting behind, and she in the front, Mr. Warren came around the other side and stepped up into the carriage using the axle of the wheel.
    “Since the rain has subsided and the day has warmed brilliantly, I shall take you ladies for ices after our ride.”
    “That would be so kind of you, Mr. Warren. I’ve not had an ice this season; it’ll remind me of my youth.” She had to turn away from him to roll her eyes.
    Genny grasped the back of Charlotte’s seat, leaned forward to point out someone on the path, and jabbed her in the back. Charlotte flinched and glared at her cousin. Genny pointed an admonishing finger at her.
    True, Charlotte was being mean, but that couldn’t be helped. A better use of her time would be to find out what Warren’s plans were so she could better avoid him over the coming week. “What are your plans this evening, Mr. Warren?”
    “Nothing terribly exciting. I have some personal business to attend to.”
    “You won’t be present at the opera then?”
    They were going to be seated in the Carleton box tonight. She hadn’t been to the opera since they’d settled in Town for the season.
    Mr. Warren flicked the horses’ reins, putting them at a trot. “I’ve never been a fan of stage dramas.”
    “What do you like?” she said under her breath.
    He heard her—not that she was trying to be unheard—and gave her a dissatisfied glare before returning his gaze to the road ahead.
    He turned his grays down the path that led into the park. It wasn’t as busy as normal, probably because the mud from the earlier rain dirtied the walking paths. If the sun stayed out, and the day continued in this fashion, she’d have to drag her cousin out here later for a decent stroll. Without Mr. Warren to interfere.
    “Life isn’t about amusements. It’s about hard work,” Mr. Warren said firmly.
    This had to be a new record for their interactions; disagreement had sparked in less than five minutes of being in each other’s company. Why did Mr. Warren want to marry her when he obviously disliked her? It was a question she was dying to ask, and she might have done so had her cousin not been seated directly behind her. She’d have to wait for another opportunity to ask him precisely what she wanted, consequences be damned.
    “I can’t imagine a life without amusement,” she said, hoping he interpreted her precise meaning: she would dislike marriage and a life with him.
    “You’re young yet.”
    Charlotte huffed out a breath and faced the road. The man was impossible. He cut her down at every opportunity. Shouldn’t he extend some of his respect and kindness to her if he was such a good friend of her father’s?
    The lace shawl slipped from her shoulders, and a draft brushed against her upper back. She looked over the side of the carriage, saw the tall