Julian Richard Sinclair, Earl of Ravenwood, listened in stunned disbelief as his formal offer of marriage was rejected. On the heels of disbelief came a cold, controlled anger. Who did the lady think she was, he wondered. Unfortunately, he could not ask her. The lady had chosen to absent herself. Julian's generous offer was being rejected on her behalf by her obviously uncomfortable grandfather.

"Devil take it, Ravenwood, I don't like this any better than you do. Thing is, the girl's not a young chit straight out of the schoolroom," Lord Dorring explained morosely. "Used to be an amiable little thing. Always eager to please. But she's three and twenty now and during the past few years she seems to have developed a considerable will of her own. Dashed annoying at times, but there it is. Can't just order her about these days."

"I am aware of her age," Julian said dryly. I was led to believe that because of it she would be a sensible, tractable sort of female."

"Oh, she is," Lord Dorring sputtered. Most definitely she is. Don't mean to imply otherwise. She's no addle-brained young twit given to hysterics or anything of that sort." His florid, bewhiskered face was flushed with evident dismay. "Normally she's very good-natured. Very amenable. A perfect model of, uh, feminine modesty and grace."

"Feminine modesty and grace, Julian repeated slowly.

Lord Dorring brightened. "Precisely, m'lord. Feminine modesty and grace. Been a great prop to her grandmother since the death of our youngest son and his wife a few years back. Sophy's parents were lost at sea the year she turned seventeen, you know. She and her sister came to live with us. I'm sure you recall." Lord Dorring cleared his throat with a cough. "Or perhaps it escaped your notice. You were somewhat occupied with, uh, other matters at the time."