At the moment, she could only wonder how close she’d come to marrying a man for whom she felt no love or even liking, but merely gratitude mistaken for affection. How fortunate he’d shown his true colors by having the bad grace to flirt with Mary in front of the whole party. If only he might transfer his attentions in truth, Claire could breathe easy!
Yet alas, she was only too wise to his real sentiments, for if he meant to conceal them, he was failing dreadfully.
While paying Mary no mind whatsoever, he glowered at Claire with indignation—and at Jonathan with pure male aggression. But mostly Claire felt a dangerous current she suspected was driven by bruised pride.
Jonathan must have felt the danger too, for he moved to Claire’s side. “Just a wallflower?” he mused. “Isn’t it vexing how looks can deceive?” He eyed his rival mildly. “I daresay Lady Claire thought you a gentleman.”
The man reddened. “You presume to speak for my betrothed?”
Mary’s mouth dropped open.
Though touched by Jonathan’s gallantry, Claire found it entirely unnecessary. Gone was the paralysis of the sleigh ride, when she’d felt unnerved, alone, and physically overmatched. Although she appreciated Jonathan’s support, she wanted to speak for herself.
Accordingly, she said calmly, “I am not your betrothed, Lord Milstead. I’ve had time enough to consider your offer, and while I thank you for the honor, I must refuse.”
Mary closed her mouth and grinned, her face shining with the joy of bearing witness to such a delicious scene.
Jonathan sent Claire a tender look of admiration. The tenderness she would have to sort out later, but for now his approval gave her the strength she needed to face Lord Milstead’s wrath.
“You refuse me?” he spluttered furiously. “Why? Are you involved with Rathborne still? Explain yourself, for this is absurd!”
“No more absurd,” she retorted, “than your making such a speech with another woman on your arm.”
“Begad!” Mary chortled, and found herself thrown off his arm. Far from taking offense, she looked delighted by the theatrics.
“The flirtation was your own fault,” he charged Claire, “for you provoked me this morning. You’re just the same as every other female. You all sport with us as you like, then lay the consequences at our feet. No matter how deserving a fellow, no matter if he prostrates himself before you—why, months I waited for you, with nary a reproach! What more would you have of me, my lady? What more could I have possibly done to show you my regard?”
“Nothing, my lord,” Claire said evenly. “You did not lack in showing regard. You lacked in feeling it.”
He dismissed her with a wave. “I’m sure I shan’t take the trouble to understand your meaning. All nonsense, I wager, to cover your indiscretions with Rathborne. His grace should count himself lucky my pistols are at home.” Rudely turning his back, he offered Mary the return of his arm. “Madam?”
She took it readily and followed him out, exchanging a look of incongruous hilarity with Claire.
After a moment of heavy silence, Claire felt a hand on her shoulder. “That was well done,” Jonathan said.
“Was it?” Though relieved the matter was ended, she felt no satisfaction. Mostly what she felt was sore and tired from sleeping atop her writing desk.
His hand, warm on her shoulder, gave a reassuring squeeze. “I wish I had your courage.”
She turned to meet Jonathan’s gaze—just as her brother’s head materialized behind his.
“By George!” Noah called from the doorway. “There you two are! The horses are harnessed and ready.”
When they joined the group gathered about the sleighs, one vehicle was already driving off.
“What the dickens?” Noah muttered, and moved off to consult with a groom. He soon returned and favored Claire with a sour look. “It would appear your Lord Milstead took it upon himself to drive out ahead—accompanied by Miss Harris.”
“He is not my Lord Milstead,” Claire informed her brother.
“I’m glad of that.” Noah shook his head. “He’s behaved most infamously.”
“And irregularly,” Jonathan added with a note of urgency. “Foolish though she’s been, we ought not leave Miss Harris in his power.”
“I agree,” Noah said. “I’m taking one of the grooms’ mounts to catch them. Harry is saddling her now.”
“I could go in your stead,” Jonathan offered, “should you wish to remain with your guests?—”
“I certainly do not wish that.” Through narrowed eyes, Noah watched Lady Caroline mount the foremost sleigh. When she looked round for him, he quickly turned away.
