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“I am not betrothed to you, Cedrick, and never shall be,” Sian bit out. “How many times do I have to tell you?”
She was prevented from saying anything more by Ryan, who ushered her into the house.
“Ignore him. He is just goading you and trying to make a very foolish point,” he soothed.
When she was alone in the hallway with him, though, Sian turned to look at Ryan with somewhat sad eyes.
“I am sorry for that. It was in poor taste,” she whispered, thoroughly ashamed of the woman she was related to.
“It isn’t your fault, Sian. In all the time you have been under my roof, I have never seen you do, or say, anything that is the remotest bit embarrassing or discomforting. You behave with grace and dignity and are a pleasure to have around. You are not responsible for Wilhelmina’s lack of manners.”
Si
an looked so miserable that Ryan felt bad for her. Aware that Mabel and her daughters were chatting outside, and likely to interrupt them at any moment, Ryan captured Sian’s wrist with gentle fingers and led her into his study. Once there, he boldly closed the door, sealing them into the hushed confines of his favourite room. Rather than offer her a drink or a seat, he gathered her into his arms.
“It isn’t your fault,” he repeated.
“It just doesn’t seem fair. You have been so nice to us, and so kind and patient. She has no right to turn up here and create a scene like that. It is embarrassing, and I apologise for it,” Sian moaned.
“You cannot choose your family, I am afraid.”
Ryan’s gaze fell to her lips. Her family suddenly became the last thing on his mind. Before she could say another word, Ryan captured Sian’s lips with his and showed her just how little he was bothered by Wilhelmina, Cedrick’s claim that she was betrothed, or her father’s dictates. Ryan wanted Sian with him, in his home, so they could spend some time getting to know each other. His house was somewhere where Sian would, hopefully, be able to see him as something more than the lord who owned the mansion next door. Hopefully, she might then start to fall a little bit in love with him.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Later that evening, Ryan and Sian sat on the chaise listening contentedly to a bickering argument between Martha and Lucinda, who were regaling them with anecdotes about their childhood. Ryan had never felt so content in his life, and this was evident with the shared looks of absolute adoration he exchanged with Sian, who had settled next to him with a naturalness that left him in little doubt she was meant to be there.
Unfortunately, their contentment didn’t last. They were soon interrupted by the arrival of the butler, who looked concernedly at Ryan.
“What is it Hargreaves?” Ryan asked, straightening in alarm at the look on the butler’s face.
“There is a gentleman who wishes to speak with Miss Martha, sir.” Hargreaves looked at Mabel. “He is a tad upset, sir.”
“Do we have a name for this gentleman?” Ryan asked. He threw Sian a rueful look and made his way to the fireplace whereupon he began to poke the flames back into life.
“It’s a Mr Isambard Rodgers, sir. I have put him in the study.”
Martha gasped and looked fearfully at her mother as she surged to her feet.
“Hargreaves, fetch Mr Rodgers, will you?” Ryan murmured.
Hargreaves hurried off and promptly returned with a nervous looking Isambard Rodgers. Ryan lifted his brows and grinned. The young man looked so scared, Ryan was certain that if he shouted ‘boo’, Isambard would race out of the door and run all the way home in fright.
“Might I have a word with Miss Martha?” Isambard asked politely after the requisite greetings and a stiff bow.
“I think that would be entirely inappropriate, don’t you?” Ryan warned with a somewhat fatherly air of concern.
Sian slid a smile at her mother, who beamed with delight.
“Whatever has happened?”
“There has been something of an altercation, sir,” Isambard announced. “With the young lady’s father, sir.”
“What has he done now?” Mabel stood up and ushered Isambard into a chair. He perched so precariously on it that Sian wondered how he managed to stay seated.
“What has he said to you?” Ryan asked.
Isambard looked regretfully at Mabel. “I don’t wish to speak ill of him on account of him being your husband, ma’am.”
