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to claim his undying affection to her now that she ’ d willingly thrown abandon to the wind and kissed him. He ’ d had enough being polite. Obviously, she confused politeness with tenderness.
    He ought to toss the little wanton to the ground and show her exactly what a man did with a woman, but then she ’ d probably tell her father and he ’ d end up married to the brazen hussy. That idea alone had a shiver of dread racing along his spine.
    “ I think that maybe you ought to return to the main house, Miss Elizabeth. ” His tone was quiet, but the authoritative delivery brooked no argument.
    The pink hue in Elizabeth ’ s cheeks deepened, “ but . . .  , ”
    “ No buts, Miss Elizabeth, ” he growled. “ I ’ m old enough to be your father , and if you don ’ t leave before I finish this sentence, I ’ m going to wallop your behind just as if I were . . . . ”
    Elizabeth pushed past Matthew and ran down the lane. Matthew turned and watched her flee, a grin on his face. “ Well, I ’ ll be. It worked. She didn ’ t let me finish my sentence. ”

CHAPTER SEVEN
    Marcelle wanted to sit on her hands. Marcelle wanted to put on her insipid little smile. Marcelle wanted to regale the gentleman caller with tales of her frightening tendencies to harm the male species with a knitting needle.
    Marcelle wanted to do what she couldn ’ t because her father was sitting in the parlor with them. Watching her closely. She ’ d chased off three more possible marriage candidates in the last three weeks and her father had had enough. Since each of those left the house insisting that his daughter was a few peaches short for a cobbler, her chances of marrying before the end of the year were getting slimmer.
    Marcelle was beyond caring, despite her promise to her father to try to wed by year ’ s end. In reality, she was simply like a horse that refused to accept a bridle. If she ever did allow a bridle, she didn ’ t want just any man saddling up and riding her. She wanted to feel closeness to her partner that would allow her the freedom to be herself, so they could ride together without the need for controlling restraints. Yet how could she explain that to her father ? H ow could she explain that this current fellow was no better than the other men had been in igniting that spark that would lead her down the aisle?
    “ More tea, Brian? ” She asked sweetly, shooting her father a look that told him she could be most pleasant and that leaving the room was safe for their guest. He shot her a look that told her he wasn ’ t going anywhere.
    Brian jumped at the sound of her voice. Neither of them had spoken in the last ten minutes and apparently , the ensuing silence had almost lulled him to sleep.
    “ Oh! No, no, my dear, ” he said, rubbing an aged hand across his gaunt features. He was tall, which would normally be a plus, but he was also so thin that she doubted whether he could carry her across a threshold should she choose to wed him – w hich, of course, she ’ d never do. A stout wind could lif t him and carry him off – which she wished would happen now. He was far too bland to consider marrying .
    At least her father had taken her seriously and found a man who wasn ’ t portly. Looking at him, however, she rather wished her father hadn ’ t veered so far in the opposite direction. What truly worried her about this caller wasn ’ t his weight or even his age – which her father also kept barely within the agreed upon range – but the fact that her father insisted on joining them in the room. That meant that he appeared to favor this man over the others, or he was going to make it difficult from now on for her to drive away suitors he considered eligible. He ’ d struck a bargain with her, and since he was keeping to his end by locating only slender men under forty, it appeared as if he was going to force her to uphold her end to behave and seriously consider them. None, however, was worth considering and