*Mirabelle*
I bite back a smile. “Oh, but we do,” I say. “Your father has promised your hand in marriage to me, and the announcement has already been sent to the Morning Paper.”
“Do I look as if I give a damn about that?” He asks.
“Your father will.” I point out.
He raises a brow, “The father I just met five minutes ago, for the first time in twenty-six years?”
“Yes, well,” I say. “Here I am. Your fiancée. Probably the only one you will ever be offered, too.”
There must be something in my tone that gives me away because he gives another one of those rusty barks of laughter. “I’m not marrying you, and I can tell that you are in agreement… but damned if I wouldn’t consider it, if things were different.”
“Now, now,” I coo, curling my hand more tightly around his arm and giving him anot
