‘There’s no point talking about this because I’m not prepared to consider any form of marriage, civil or otherwise,’ Ophelia declared in a flat tone of finality.

Lysander looked steadily back at her, lush black lashes semi-screening cool metallic eyes of enquiry. ‘Why not?’

‘It would be inappropriate.’ Ophelia was determined to retain her dignity rather than descend into the kind of emotionalism that she knew would only rouse his contempt. Shame wasn’t fashionable. No doubt he saw no reason why he should feel the slightest bit guilty about his father’s mistreatment of her mother. ‘I couldn’t do it.’

‘I’m sure you could.’ His dark imperious features had a sardonic cast. ‘The financial rewards for doing as I ask will be handsome.’

All Ophelia’s natural colour drained from her complexion. The wad of banknotes in her back pocket felt as if it were burning into her flesh. ‘I suppose it’s my own fault that I’m getting that offer.’ She hauled out the cash he had given her and settled it down with a decisive slap on the table beside her. ‘Take your money back, keep it. If I hadn’t been trying to outface you earlier I wouldn’t have accepted it. I may be broke but I still know the difference between right and wrong.’

Lysander gave her a wolfish smile of dark amusement. ‘You sound like a little girl.’

Crystalline blue eyes flaring, Ophelia lifted her chin. ‘Look, it may sound stupid and simplistic to you but that’s how I try to live my life. All right, I don’t always live up to my own ideals, but when I make a mistake I’m not ashamed to admit it!’

‘Ideals are wonderful when you can afford them.’ Striking bronze eyes mocked her stance in a way that only whipped her antagonism higher. ‘But if I walk away, you won’t get a share of the house and you’ll be in debt. Agree to my conditions and money won’t be a problem for you ever again. I am generous towards those who please me.’