Page 23 of A Spinster's Guide to Landing a Lyon

And he had a choice. Follow through on what her eyes were telling him, or follow through on what her words were telling him.

But as a gentleman, he had only one choice.

Chapter Fourteen

She had reallybeen hoping for a kiss. Sort of. The fact that he wasn’t entirely the arrogant, standoffish prick that she thought he was had been wreaking havoc on her emotions. And then after they had shared that laugh together, well, he was almost human. A human that had her lips and fingertips in turmoil.

But the race was the safer course of action. Even if he ultimately won and she ended up tangled around in her chemise.

The blow to her pride at losing a trivial race was significantly easier to bear than another blow to her ego.

She didn’t need yet another man not noticing her. Not desiring her.

It was much better for everyone around her that they maintain their slightly vexed state around each other.

And it was that attitude she carried as she sat across from him in the drawing room planning the potential upcoming wedding.

“Do you prefer roses or tulips?” she asked him.

“Whatever you prefer. Roses I’m assuming?”

Irrational as it was, it irritated her that his assumptions were correct.

“It’s not for me, it’s for Arabella.”

“Ah yes. Where is she anyway?”

Amelia pulled half of her bottom lip into a small bite and then swallowed the small lump in her throat, about the size of a small piece of wedding cake. She knew exactly where Amelia was and more importantlywhyshe was there.

“She had a megrim.” Taking a quick pause, she took that moment to scribble something on her papers. “But she reassured me that we should go ahead and make plans without her.”

His lips pressed into a fine line, which only made that imaginary blob of cake working down her esophagus into her stomach very unsettled.

Amelia waved off the unspoken query. The one she envisioned him asking. It was his nature to be confrontational with her, so even though she didn’t actually hear him say,We’re planning her wedding and she’s not here? That’s a bit odd, isn’t it?She predicted his skepticism in the matter.

So even when she dismissed it with, “It happens all the time with society mamas,” and he said nothing, in his eyebrows, she could read the retort,You’re not her mother.

So it didn’t quite make sense when she mumbled in reply, “May as well be.”

“Pardon?”

“Oh nothing. So, we’re going with roses.”

“Roses sound nice.”

“Chocolate or vanilla cake?”

“Which do you prefer? Vanilla?”

Again, he was correct. She ground her teeth together. As much as she wanted to prove him wrong, she was more than a little preferential in her favor of vanilla over chocolate.

“That will do.”

“And what will you wear?”

“Whatever you prefer for the occasion—”

“Alright, Benedict. What’s going on?”