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His voice was low and as steady as he could make it when he said, “I will find you a husband.”
“Maybe that isn’t the best idea. You—”
He whirled around and snapped, “I said I’d find you a damned husband!”
Elizabeth took a few steps backward to the door. Her mother had always said that there was no reasoning with a man in a temper, and come to think of it, she rather thought Mrs. Seeton had written the very same thing. “I’ll just speak with you later on the subject,” she said quietly.
He let out a long, shaky exhale. “Please accept my apologies. I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s all right,” she said quickly. “Truly. Although perhaps we ought to cancel our lessons for the day, considering…”
He shot her a glance when she let her words trail off. “Considering what?”
Blast the man, he was going to make her say it. Her cheeks turned warm as she replied, “Considering that I’ve done all the kissing that could possibly be appropriate prior to marriage.” When he didn’t make a comment, she muttered, “Probably more.”
He gave her a curt nod. “Have you the list of guests arriving tomorrow?”
She blinked, startled by the sudden change of subject. “Lady Danbury has it. I could bring it to you later in the afternoon.”
“I’ll get it myself.”
His tone didn’t invite further comment, so she left the room.
James had spent the entire morning scowling. He’d scowled at the servants, he’d scowled at Malcolm, he even scowled at the damned newspaper.
His normally easy stride was punctuated by stamps and tromps, and when he returned to Danbury House after a couple of hours in the fields, his boots made enough noise to wake the dead.
What he really needed was his aunt’s bloody cane. It was childish of him, he knew, but there was something rather satisfying about taking out his frustration on the floor. But stamping his feet just wasn’t enough. With the cane, he could pound a damned hole through the floor.
He barreled through the great hall, his ears unwillingly pricking up as he passed the slightly open door to the drawing room. Was Elizabeth in there? And what was she thinking as he stamped by? She had to know that he was there. She’d have to be stone cold deaf to miss the noise he was making.
But instead of Elizabeth’s musical lilt of a voice, he heard his aunt’s froggy boom. “James!”
James let out a nearly silent groan. If his aunt was calling him James, it meant that Elizabeth was not with her. And if Elizabeth was not with her, it meant that Agatha wanted to Speak With Him. Which never boded well.
He took a couple of steps backward and poked his head into the doorway. “Yes?”
“I need to speak with you.”
How he managed not to groan he never knew. “Yes, I imagined as much.”
She thumped her cane. “You needn’t sound as if you’re on your way to an execution.”
“That depends on whose execution we’re talking about,” he muttered.
“Eh? What’d you say?” Thump thump thump.
He entered the room, his eyes doing a quick scan for Elizabeth. She wasn’t there, but Malcolm was, and the cat quickly hopped off the windowsill and trotted to his side.
“I said,” James lied, “that I want one of those canes.”
Agatha’s eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong with your legs?”
“Nothing. I just want to make some noise.”
“Couldn’t just slam a door?”
“I’ve been outside,” he said in a bland voice.
