" Celia realized she'd shocked Mr. Pinter when his thick black brows drew together in a frown. His lean form seemed even more rigid than usual, and his angular features-the arrow of a nose and bladed jaw-even more stark. IN his severe morning attire of black serge and white linen, he radiated male disapproval.
But why? He knew she was the only "hellion" left unmarried. Did he think she would let her brothers and sisters lose their inheritance out of some rebellious desire to thwart Gran's ultimatum?
Of course he did. He'd been so kind and considerate during her recitation of the dream that she'd almost forgotten he hated her. Why else were his eyes, gray as slate after a storm, now so cold and remote? The blasted fellow was always so condescending and sure of himself, so...so...
Male.
"Forgive me, my lady," he said in his oddly raspy voice, "but I was unaware you had any suitors."
Curse him for being right. "Well, I don't...exactly. There are men who might be interested but haven't gone so far as to offer marriage." Or even to show a partiality to her.
"And you're hoping I'll twist their arms so they will?"
She colored under his piercing gaze. "Don't be ridiculous."
This was the Mr. Pinter she knew, the one who'd called her "a reckless society miss" and a "troublemaker."
Not that she cared what he thought. He was like her brother's friends, who saw her as a tomboy because she could demonstrate a rifle's fine qualities. And like Cousin Ned. Scrawny bitch with no tits-you don't have an ounce of anything female on you.
Curse Ned to hell. "

― Sabrina Jeffries , A Lady Never Surrenders (Hellions of Halstead Hall, #5)