“What? That’s ludicrous. You know how I object to everything he stands for.” Amelia brought a hand to her cheek, feeling the heat.
“Perhaps, but it doesn’t mean you cannot feel attraction. In fact,” Charlotte emphasized the last word with a finger puncturing the air, “I believe you want him.”
Amelia’s mouth fell open. The idea was absurd.
“I was beginning to suspect that myself,” Elisha joined in.
Amelia turned her head to stare at Elisha, then back at Charlotte. “And here I thought my friends knew me best! Haven’t you been paying attention to my editorials?”
“That’s precisely why,” Elisha said, nodding her head while Charlotte rubbed her chin with exaggerated mockery.
“Remember me telling you about the son of my father’s friend with whom I argued almost daily?” Charlotte addressed Elisha as if Amelia was no longer in the room. “I didn’t realize until much later that I had fancied him but didn’t know what to do with my feelings.”
“I’m hardly a little girl who’s unable to distinguish affection from annoyance,” Amelia protested. “You both know how much his way of living vexes me.”
“That’s just it. You protest too much,” Elisha pointed out. “There are men far worse whom you don’t object to at all. You must believe he’s just perfectly imperfect.”
“Oh, blast it!” Charlotte’s sudden outburst had the two women following her gaze as both raccoons launched a coordinated assault on the sugar bowl. “Perhaps we should continue this discussion in the garden before they completely destroy my sitting room.”
As they hurried to rescue the tea service, Amelia found herself turning Elisha’s words over in her mind. But before she could press further, the raccoons discovered Charlotte’s flower arrangements, and all thoughts of a complicated man were lost in the ensuing chaos.
*
Hereford arrived atthe Carlisle’s garden party in high spirits, trading barbs with Patrick Adams about their latest sparring at the fencing club. His laughter died in his throat, however, when he caught Miss Thornton’s frigid regard from across the lawn when their eyes met. She turned away with deliberate dismissal, her gray dress stark against the colorful spring flowers.
“What have you done to earn her ire?” Patrick asked, following his gaze.
“I dared to breathe.” Hereford accepted a glass of champagne from a passing footman. “That seems to be offense enough.”
“There must be more to it than that.” Patrick studied Miss Thornton’s retreating figure. “When did this mutual animosity begin?”
“Mutual? I assure you the hostility flows entirely in one direction.” Hereford took a lengthy sip. “Though I suppose I represent everything she despises, including but not limited to inherited privilege, apparent idleness, the system that keeps talented commoners in their place.”
“You’re hardly idle.”
“Yes, well, Miss Thornton hasn’t been privy to that particular information, has she?” Hereford tried for a careless shrug, though something twisted uncomfortably in his chest. He’d never cared what others thought of him before, so why did her obvious disapproval needle him so?
A commotion drew his attention back to Miss Thornton. She’d stopped to help a maid struggling with a heavy crate of china, despite the obvious strain it put on her leg. As he watched, her foot caught in her skirt, causing her to stumble.
“Damn it all,” he muttered, watching her struggle to maintain her balance without dropping her end of the box. “Why must she insist on—”
Before he could finish the thought, Patrick had already run across the lawn to assist both women. Hereford remained rooted in place, feeling increasingly like a useless popinjay. He should have been the one to help. Should have moved instead of complaining…
Miss Thornton glanced in his direction again, no doubt noting his inaction. The temperature of her gaze dropped several more degrees, if such a thing were possible. Hereford realized he’d been scowling, his frustration with himself no doubt appearing as disapproval of her.
A twitter of feminine laughter drew his attention. A group of Societyladies had gathered nearby, eyeing him expectantly. Well, this he knew how to handle. Plastering on his most charming smile, he turned to them with a flourishing bow.
“Ladies, you look positively radiant today.”
“Oh, my lord, we’ve been anticipating your arrival with bated breath!” the older one of the two said while the rosy-cheeked young lady giggled behind her fan. “I don’t suppose you would regale us about the time you had to escape an angry father through the fountains?”
As they gathered closer, hanging on his every word, he caught Miss Thornton’s shake of her head from the corner of his eye. The smile felt increasingly brittle on his face as he launched into the tale. Why did her opinion matter so bloody much?
“It was a warm summer evening,” he began, pushing the troubling question aside, “and the fountains were looking particularly inviting—”
“Lord Hereford.” Charlotte Carlisle materialized at his elbow, her smile tight. “As riveting as I’m sure this tale of debauchery is, I require your assistance with a rather urgent matter.”
The ladies surrounding him made sounds of disappointment, but Charlotte was already steering him away with surprising force for such a diminutive woman. She snagged Miss Thornton as they passed, ignoring the obvious tension between her two captives.
