“I understand you’ve spent time at sea,” the young woman said. “How fascinating. I hope to hear some of your stories.”
Genova recognized a masterly tactic. Open rivalry would get Miss Myddleton nowhere, so now she angled to become a confidante.
When the stars fell into the sea.
“I would be delighted to share them,” she said politely, “but your life would be as fascinating to me, Miss Myddleton.”
“Then I will trade stories of fashionable circles for your stories of foreign parts.”
Miss Myddleton’s smile was an excellent simulation of warmth, but there was acid in the wordforeign.Genova, it was made clear, did not belong. The fact that she knew it did not improve her temper.
“I’m sure that will be delightful.” She did not try to sound sincere.
The slanted eyes narrowed. “Lady Thalia said you fought off Barbary pirates.”
“She does tend to exaggerate.”
“But not by much, I think. She also says you are redoubtable. I’m sure you are. I must tell you, however, that I intend to marry Ashart, and I believe I can get what I want.”
Perhaps a better woman would tell the truth, but Genova fired back, “You’re welcome to try.”
“Oh, I will. I have his grandmother’s approval.”
That was a heavy gun and Miss Myddleton clearly knew it.
“I didn’t expect to meet him here, of course,” she went on, looking at her quarry across the room, “but it seems an excellent opportunity to settle matters.”
Genova found herself fascinated and even admiring in a way. Most well-bred women were trained to take the indirect path, to get their way by coyness and wiles, or to depend on a man to win them what they wanted. She had to like one who fired directly at her target.
“Will it not be difficult for you to marry into a family so at odds with the Mallorens?”
Miss Myddleton looked back at her. “I’m not a Malloren, and anyway, with Ashart here, the feud must be over.”
“It isn’t. Don’t do anything to create more difficulties.”
The young woman studied Genova, looking alert and intelligent. She might even make Ashart a good marchioness, especially if she drew back and made him hunt her and her fortune.
“Difficulties for whom?”
“For everyone, but particularly for Ash.”
The intimate term slipped out and shattered any hope of accord.
“I will never create any kind of difficulty for Ashart, which is more than can be said of you, Miss Smith. One bitter rift may be ending here, but the wrongmarriage will create another. You will alienate Ashart from his grandmother, from the woman who raised him. They are devoted to one another.”
With that salvo, Miss Myddleton stalked away and Genova struggled not to show the effect of her words. The hunting cat, damn her, was probably right.
Then she came to her senses. None of this mattered because this betrothal wasfalse.Ashart probably would marry Damaris Myddleton, and at least the heiress had spine enough to stand up to him. He needed that.
The doors were flung open then for them to leave. Fresh, cool air and sunshine were a brisk relief.
Ashart came over. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, of course,” she said composedly, linking her arm with his. “Perhaps a little dull from food and wine.”
It was time to put her plan into action. She didn’t think she could endure this mock betrothal much longer.
“Some brisk exercise in the open air will be just themustard,” she said.
