Page 18

The woman perked up, listening to the music. She walked around him, blocking his path. “May I ask you something before you go?” She blinked rapidly as if trying to think of something, her eyes flitting past him. “Oh! I feel a bit faint.”

He stepped back instead of toward her as she most likely expected and looked at the house. How far away was it, and were there any people around to whom he could appeal to avoid being trapped in a compromising position? Unaware, apparently, that he was wise to her wiles, she collapsed toward him, probably expecting him to catch her. Predictably, the woman fell forward but since he wasn’t willing to catch her, she landed face first with a soft thud and lay sprawled on the grass. “Oh!” she spluttered, her face covered in blades of grass and soft garden soil. Her cry alerted three women gathered at a nearby fountain and they rushed to her with exclamations of worry seemingly encouraging her to wail. Or perhaps she cried because her entrapment plans were foiled.

Miles had to swallow to keep from laughing. “Are you quite all right, Miss Blair?”

“Do not just stand there, help my daughter up,” Zinnia Blair appeared now, running to Amelia, who seemed dazed. “What happened?”

“I tripped,” Amelia replied lamely. “I took a step away from him when I saw you coming and stumbled.”

One of the other women frowned at Amelia. “Dear, you must have hit your head. I clearly saw you fall forward. Lord Miles was looking away from you and didn’t see you falling.”

“Oh.” Amelia gave her mother an alarmed look. “It is that…I suppose that could have happened. I-I mean, it was because we had been embracing and did not wish to be caught when we spotted these ladies nearby.”

Her lies were transparent and pathetic. Suddenly, Miles was tired of this pursuit and no longer felt the need to remain polite. “We did not and have never embraced, Miss Blair,” he said in as bland a tone as he could manage. “You should find yourself some water and a washcloth.” He turned on his heel and stormed off.

He would speak to Siobhan and find out exactly what she knew about this. He’d always been adept at avoiding any kind of entrapment, usually escaping any woman out to ensnare him whether by seduction or by putting him in a situation that could be contrived as compromising.

This attempt had been less than well-planned or well executed and there was no doubt that Amelia Blair and her mother, although scheming, were not well-practiced. Once they were, he pitied whomever she set her sights on next.

*

When Siobhan heard the sounds of horses outside, it took all her strength not to jump from where she sat and rush to the door.

Her father looked up from the book he read. After eating dinner, he’d joined her in the sitting room where he’d spent what was probably a peaceful evening—for him—of reading in front of a fire. He’d only been mildly interested in her reason for staying in and had not questioned her.

There were voices in the foyer as the butler greeted her mother and sister. Moments later, her mother entered the sitting room. Amelia walked past the doorway, presumably making her way to her bedchamber.

“Amelia is quite tired,” her mother offered, although no one had asked.

“Did you enjoy your evening, dear?” Her father set his book on the arm of his chair and stood to move to her where he kissed her temple, then went to the sideboard. “Brandy?”

“Please,” her mother replied. She slid a look to Siobhan. “It is late. You should be in bed.”

“It is only just eight, Mama,” Siobhan replied. “It is just that you have come home very early.”

For a moment her mother seemed stunned, then she whirled to look at the clock. “So it is! Goodness, I thought it was much later.” She accepted the drink from her husband, who settled onto the settee beside her. She turned to him. “Owen, you should have been there. The music was fabulous, the food, extraordinary. I must admit that the Edwina Mackenzie is well-versed in choosing the menu for her entertainments.”

While her mother extolled the wonders of the evening, Siobhan noted she avoided any talk of those attending. When she could not wait any longer, she asked, “Did Amelia dance with Lord Miles?”

Her mother’s eyes snapped to her. “I am sure she did.”

“That’s nice,” she fibbed. “Did they walk in the garden?”

Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “No, they did not. Honestly, Siobhan, I do not wish to discuss the evening’s events.”

So they’d failed, she decided. If they’d been successful in compromising Lord Miles, she would have been talking about nothing else. She exchanged an amused look with her father because in spite of the fact she wasn’t discussing Lord Miles, the ball itself was all her mother had spoken about since entering the room.

Her father knew how to deflect his wife’s moods. “What are your plans for tomorrow?” Siobhan almost giggled when her mother began telling him of her plans and he looked over to wink at her.

*

It wasn’t until the next morning that her suspicions of their failed triumph were confirmed. Siobhan and her father had just begun eating when her sister entered the dining room. Amelia was in a sour mood, her lips downturned, face expressionless. There was a scratch across the tip of her nose.

After serving herself eggs and toast from the sideboard, her sister sat across from her. Siobhan poured tea for both of them. “You seem upset. Is something wrong? What happened to your nose?”

“I fell.” Amelia let out a long sigh.

Their father’s eyebrows rose as he peered over the edge of his coffee cup. “Whatever happened?”