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reminded me of ahunter striding through a pack of dogs, knowing he had a fox in his snare.
    I felt the flush on my neck as the room became very hot and crowded all at once, in spite of the glass walls and piles of snow.
    “What has happened?” I whispered to the kindly old woman to my right. She reached over and patted my hand. She shook with palsy even as she gave me a crinkled smile. “The earl just asked His Grace for your hand, dear.”
    The significance of the moment was so far beyond me that the first thought to cross my mind was, He needs my hand for what?
    But then her words settled and my mouth went suddenly dry.
    He asked Oliver for my hand in marriage?
    Oh, dear Lord.
    David turned to me.
    It took every ounce of strength I had to stand. I could feel my hands shaking. I tried to hold my head high.
    “Miss Whitlock.” David smiled, so sure of himself as he strode forward between two of the blazing fires. “What do you say to becoming my wife?”
    Everyone in the conservatory was grinning at me withgleeful expectations. I could feel the pressure like a physical thing pressing down on me even as I felt as if I were about to explode. “May I have a word with you in private?” I managed to force out.
    David lifted his glass to the others. “Whatever you have to say to me, you can say to us all. They will be family soon.”
    There were times when David’s confidence was a terrible, terrible thing. I had no choice but to give my answer. “My lord,” I said with as much force as I could muster. “I must refuse.”
    The horrified gasp that resounded through the conservatory matched the sound my own heart was making perfectly. Determined not to lose my composure, I backed away.
    “My apologies, Your Grace,” I said, nodding to Oliver. “But I should be leaving now.”
    As I gathered my skirts, someone announced, “She’s daft” in an overly loud voice.
    I turned my back to them all and walked out of the conservatory.
    The sudden heat from the house felt oppressive. As soon as I passed into the hall, I broke into a hasty run. I needed to escape the house. I wanted to be home in my own workshop with my own things, free of the pressure of expectation.
    The sound of my soles striking the hard marble echoed off the walls as I reached the front doors. I didn’t wait for a footman to open them for me. Instead I reached for the doors and flung them wide, letting the wind and snow pour into the warm house.
    At the shock of cold air, I let out a gasp.
    I had just been humiliated in front of several members of the Order. At least three served in the House of Lords. In the end it would be my reputation that suffered for it, not David’s. I would become the irrational shrew in their eyes, not a girl who had been carefully manipulated.
    A familiar coachman approached, his brow creased with confusion as he looked at me standing in the winter chill. “Is there a problem, Miss Whitlock?” he asked.
    “Yes. I need you to take me home at once.”
    “As you say.” He nodded and returned to the carriage house.
    My heart pounded as I waited for him to hitch the horses. I didn’t have time to linger. For a moment I considered walking back to my shop, but decided against it. The streets weren’t safe for a young woman, even in Mayfair, and I wasn’t dressed for a jaunt about town alone in the dark.
    I took a step down onto the icy stone hoping to be closer to the carriage house the moment the coachman reappeared, but a strong hand grasped me by the arm.
    I turned, wrenching my arm free at the same time, only to come face-to-face with David.

CHAPTER FIVE
    “ MEG, STOP, ” DAVID SAID WITH a note of hurt in his voice. “I know that the proposal was sudden, but you didn’t have to humiliate me like that.”
    Humiliate him? He’d humiliated me. “I asked to speak with you alone. You would have none of it,” I said, unable to contain my disbelief. “What in the name of the dear Lord were you thinking?”
    David pulled