" Swiss-made,” Devon remarked, staring at a plaque on the interior of the lid. “The cylinders are all opera overtures. Il Bacio, Zampa,,,”
“But where did it come from?” Kathleen asked.
“It seems to have been delivered today,” Helen said, her voice oddly subdued. “For me. From…Mr. Winterborne.”
Silence descended on the group.
Picking up a folded note, Helen gave it to Devon. Although her face was composed, bewilderment shone in her eyes. “He--” she began uncomfortably. “That is, Mr. Winterborne--seems to think--”
Devon met her gaze directly. “I’ve given him leave to court you,” he said bluntly. “Only if you desire it. If you do not--”
“What?” Kathleen burst out, fury pumping through her. Why hadn’t Devon mentioned anything about it to her? He must have known that she would object.
As a matter of fact, she objected with every bone in her body. Winterborne wasn’t right for Helen in any regard. Anyone could see that. Marrying him would require her to fit into a life that was completely foreign to her.
The William Tell Overture floated around the room with ghastly cheerfulness.
“Absolutely not,” Kathleen snapped at Devon. “Tell him you’ve changed your mind.”
“It’s up to Helen to decide what she wants,” he said calmly. “Not you.” With that obdurate set of his jaw, he looked exactly like the arrogant ass he had been the first time they’d met. "

― Lisa Kleypas , Cold-Hearted Rake (The Ravenels, #1)