Madeline Oxley could not completely fault Adam Coates. Her father had hoodwinked them both...but now that she stood at last before him, how could she ever walk away?
"Your father sent me the wrong bride!"
Madeline gritted her teeth. "Sir, you are not the only one who has been inconvenienced by this. I just spent forty-six days on a damp, creaky ship, and now you tell me in front of everyone that I'm not the one you ordered, and I shouldn't have bothered. I believe I've had quite enough insults for one day. My father assured me you had asked for my hand. I had no reason to question the truth of it."
Adam's chest heaved with a sigh. "No reason to question it? Do you not have a mind of your own?"
Oh, this was too much. "To tell you the truth, Mr. Coates, I do have a mind of my own—a mind to poke my father with a knitting needle, and if I may say so, you could use a poke yourself!"
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