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“So speaks one who cares not whether he wins or loses,” answered Fairford. He flicked a glance at her. “One should never accept less than a win, if indeed the prize is worthy of pursuit.”
She knew Fairford was no longer discussing the hunt. It seemed she finally had his attention.
Chadwick’s smile tightened. “Defeat is a part of life, sir. A man who cannot accept this truth will soon be buried beneath the rubble of his broken pride.” He turned to her, his expression softening. “And yet, fear of losing should never stop a man from pursuing his heart’s desire.”
Oh, not again! She could actually feel the blood draining from her cheeks.
“True,” replied Fairford. “However, one man’s jewel is but a common stone to another.”
The blood returned all in a rush as she absorbed his words. Had he just called her…common?
“When it comes to determining the value of a thing, I’m afraid I have a higher standard than most,” Fairford went on, his gaze now lingering on her. “To merit my interest, the prize in question must be truly impressive.”
She released the breath she’d drawn in preparation, biting back a nasty retort. Of course, he meant not to insult her, but to challenge her. He was absolutely right to be selective. Any potential husband of hers would certainly have to pass a barrage of tests before she accepted his offer, so why should it be any different for him?
Chadwick, however, took umbrage at Fairford’s statement. “It has been my experience that one only belittles something when one feels the challenge to attain it is too difficult.”
“No one here is belittling anything.” A passing rider greeted them, temporarily forcing the conversation to a halt. Fairford’s blue gaze was icy when it swung back to regard Chadwick. “While I find our philosophical differences fascinating, I’m afraid I must now join my party. Enjoy the hunt”—again his gaze flicked over her—“and may the best man win.”
Kicking his horse into motion, he left them both staring at his retreating back.
“I remain uncertain as to which is the bigger ass—that horse’s rear or the man riding it,” muttered Chadwick. “He had no right to insult you so.”
A hot coal of shame burned in Sabrina’s gut. This man had every reason to give her the cut direct, but instead he’d thought only of coming to her defense over a perceived insult. Surprised by a sudden stinging in her eyes, she looked at him. “You are a true gentleman, my lord.”
Instantly, Chadwick’s expression changed to one of compassion.
She hesitated, not wanting to give him hope, yet not wanting to crush him, either. “I’m so sorry for what happened at the Somerset ball. I assure you, I never intended any—”
“I know,” he cut her off. “But what is done is done, and now we have little choice but to deal with the consequences. Though my heart breaks in saying it, I can no longer court you.”
Again, the unexpected pricking of unshed tears assaulted her composure.
“I expect you’ll be announcing your engagement soon, anyway.”
Her head snapped up. “I beg your pardon?”
“Well, naturally, Montgomery must have asked for your hand by now.”
“It…it was only a kiss!”
His brows lowered ominously. “Do you mean to tell me that he hasn’t had the decency to ask you to marry him? I should have asked your mother the next morning, if not that very night, were I in his place. That he hasn’t only proves what a complete scoundrel he is. Lady Sabrina, you must demand that he marry you at once.”
Heaven help her, she almost laughed aloud. “He did ask permission to court me. And I refused him.”
The look he gave her was one of utter astonishment. “You refused him?”
“I did,” she said stubbornly.
Chadwick looked uncomfortable. “Sabrina, if you hope to earn the favor of another gentleman, I should tell you that upon hearing of the incident, my own father forbade me from further pursuing your hand. You would do well to reconsider his suit.”
Feeling oddly disappointed, Sabrina could only nod. If he’d really loved her, fear of his family’s disapproval would not have stopped him. The knowledge stung, even though she wasn’t the least bit interested in becoming his wife—or interested in love.
To make matters worse, Montgomery chose that moment to appear. “Good day, friends!”
“Good day, Lord Montgomery,” she returned stiffly. Go away, Lord Montgomery!
The easy smile that stretched his lips made her toes curl. “It feels so awkward, your insisting on such formality while your mother calls me by my Christian name,” he said. “I do wish you’d call me Henry, as she does.”
