Norris had definitely been enjoying Miss Weathersted’s company, but that might come to nothing. She must pursue her plan until she was sure. In any case, it was time for her to marry. Idiotic to draw back from that because of one impossible man.
She took out her list of eligible gentlemen and crossed off Churston and Blacknorton. That left Wentforth, Sellerden, and Sir Arraby Arranbury. She wouldnotbe prejudiced against the latter because of his name. He could be the perfect contender.
Ethel returned to help Ariana dress, and then scooped up the various small items to add to the last trunk. Ariana went to take farewell of Lady Cawle.
As she walked along the corridor, Kynaston came out of a room, almost close enough to collide. He slept so close? They both took a step back and he frowned at her.
“We are to leave shortly,” Ariana said, almost breathlessly.
“Yes,” he said, in a dull-witted way. Had he drunk the night away after all? “From where you plan to hook and wind in a husband. Any husband.”
“Only a tall one,” she retorted.
“Have you no sense?”
“I have plenty of sense, sir. Kindly step out of my way.”
He grabbed her wrist and dragged her into the room he’d just left, shutting the door.
It was his bedroom.
Mad. Definitely!
He released her, but stood between her and the door. Ariana looked around for the bellpull. Unfortunatelyit was by his bed, but she inched toward it. “My lord, think what you’re doing.”
“What do you think I’m doing? Planning a rape?”
“As you’re clearly insane, anything is possible!”
“I’m not insane. Stop acting a theatrical scene. I merely wish to talk to you.”
“Talkto me? The drawing room would be more suitable.”
“You invaded the library last night.”
“Which is not a bedroom.”
“Yet I have slept there, as you know.”
She was close to the bellpull now, which meant she was very close to his bed, and he was watching her in a particularly perilous manner. She stepped away from the bed. “Kindly move away from the door, Kynaston.”
“Not yet. I mean you no harm. Quite the opposite.” He seemed calm and sincere. Parts of her wished he weren’t, but she walked toward him, speaking firmly and meeting his eyes. “Step aside, my lord.”
“You need my advice.”
“Ineedto leave this room. We can go to the drawing room for more conversation.”
Unmoved, he leaned back against the door and folded his arms. “This will do.”
She bumped into something and glanced down to see the chest at the foot of his bed—and the object on it.
A lute.
The recollection rolled over her of him singing and playing.
But this lute was unstrung and neglected, along with all the rest of his sad life. She could have screamed and brought a dozen people there, but she wouldn’t bring scandal down on him if she could avoid it. Shefolded her arms in imitation of him. “You wanted to talk to me? Do so. In brief.”
She’d swear he was disappointed.
