He didn’t speak, not at first. Instead, he stood in the middle of the room, his boots planted on what I could see was a worn, dark carpet.
His arms were folded over his chest and he was looking at me as one might a bug. Or a creature who wasn’t deserving of any of his notice.
Naturally, being who I was, and already determined to see this thing through, I took that as a challenge.
“I am Lady Rosalind Faringsworth,” I declared, holding my chin up as I spoke. “I am here on your invitation, I presume.”
“You do presume, madam,” he replied. His voice was a low growl, sending a shiver up my spine. He had an accent I was unfamiliar with, one that made his words sound even more foreboding. “And that is why I sent my summons.”
My Dark Husband by Percy Wittlesford