The siblings quit the room, the sister with a smile, the brother reluctantly but with a very smart bow.
It seemed suddenly quiet without them, the room very still. Jack leant one elbow on the sofa’s low back and stretched out his legs, his leather boots creaking faintly as he crossed them at the ankle. He glanced at Min sitting stiffly by his side, hands clutched in her lap, and momentarily wondered what to say.
“You gave me a rare fright this morning,” was what he settled on.
A carriage rattled past in the street below. Min kept her focus on her hands, not moving a muscle. If she even breathed, he couldn’t detect it.
“I am sorry.”
“Min…” God dammit, she’d turned stiff and cold as porcelain again. It was almost as bad as the curtsy last night. If she’d look at him, if she’d only smile… Her jaw was a soft curve. He could crook a finger there and turn it toward him, but she’d only shy away. And anyway…he oughtn’t.
He pulled his gloves off, finger by finger, irritable. It was hot for March. He could have spent the morning riding. He could have been out somewhere with air in his lungs and the freedom to gallop.
“Thank God Miss Sedgewick found you.”
“Yes, I am…very grateful to her.”
“And you truly want to stay here?”
“She has been most kind. And I…I understand why you esteem her.”
He shot her a look, not realising his sentiments had been so obvious. Had Miss Sedgewick told her? Surely not. The idea of the two women discussing him made him distinctly uncomfortable.
He made a vague noise, a non-committal, “Mm,” and tapped the gloves he held in his left hand against his knee. “I spoke to my sisters. I know what happened and—”
“It isn’t true!”
Finally she came to life, turning toward him with wide eyes and a cherry-pink flush. “I… I…do not wish to call Eleanor dishonest, she must have been confused, but it isn’t true.” She held his look for a long, brave moment, silver bright as sun on water. Then she subsided, sitting straight once more, shoulders dropping as she turned all her focus to those ugly, overlarge gloves. “I promise, Jack. It isn’t true.”
She looked so forlorn he had to laugh. “I know it isn’t, you goose.”
But she only looked more stricken.
“Is that what you’re worried about? That someone might believe it? Min, really, how could you possibly think so? Any idiot who knows us would know there’s never been anything like that between us. And my sisters, who are both idiotsandpeople who know us well, ought to be the last people to suspect it. Call Nora a liar, Min, because sheisone, much as it pains me to say it.”
She scarcely looked less troubled, rubbing one gloved hand with the thumb of her other, closer to wringing them than massaging.
“And Nora knows you…you…”
But she couldn’t seem to finish that sentence.
“Nora,” he said emphatically, “blamed you for spoiling her grand debut at Almack’s. No wonder you don’t understand it.” He could hold out no longer and fondly pinched her chin. “Becauseyouare not spoilt and jealous and spiteful, my dear, sweet girl.”
She gave him a startled look, and he dropped his hand back to his lap, rubbing his thumb against the side of his finger to chase away the impression of warm, soft skin.
“She should’ve blamedme, really, if there was any blame to be had.”
Min seemed no less shocked by that. “You? Why?”
“Oh…” He waved a hand. The touch of her jaw still lingered. “I ought to have been nicer about her dress, I suppose. I ought to have been in London and made sure Nell didn’t take you both to Almack’s before you were ready. I ought”—he smiled at her—“I ought not to have made you dance.”
“Oh, that dance!” She cringed, her shoulders lifting as though she wanted to sink right through them. “Don’t make me remember that dance.”
“It’s charitable even to call it that,” he said, laughing. “But I am sorry for it, Min.” He lifted one of her hands from her lap, where they’d been clutching her skirts in an agony of remembrance, and toyed with her gloved fingers, looking up meekly from under lowered lashes. “Will you forgive me?” The apologetic air was somewhat marred by the laugh in his voice, but he couldn’t help it, buoyant with old memories. How many daft scrapes had he apologised for all those years ago? Those normally sweet lips would turn sullen and flat, and the eyes would go grey and cool.“Horrible boy.”
He could feel the words scrape up his spine.
Instead, she removed her hand from his. “I always do, don’t I?”
