“He is, indeed, often both those things at once,” Kirkwood agreed with a half grin that made him even more attractive. She wanted to return it with a smile of her own, but forced her expression to remain unmoved.
“Is—is your horse really named Othello?” she asked.
He seemed surprised by the question, but he nodded. “He is. A favorite Shakespeare play of mine.”
She shifted her weight with discomfort. She would also count Othello amongst her favorite plays from the Bard. Having that in common with this man was a bit...infuriating.
“Miss Lockhart, would you like me to leave?” he asked. “Depart your home now that we understand each other? If my presence is that difficult for you to bear, despite my explanation, I could find a reason to depart that would leave you with none of the blame. It’s your home, after all, and despite what you seem to think of me, I wouldn’t want to leave you in discomfort in your own walls.”
She worried her lip. For the second time, she found him being chivalrous, trying to think of her comfort. First when he had told her he wouldn’t hold her to a dance if she didn’t wish it. And now. Of course whether he was here or not, she would not feel comfortable in her own walls. She didn’t think she ever truly had. She shoved those thoughts aside, refusing to ponder them.
“No. I’ve been unfair to you, I think,” she said softly. “Which was as vulgar of me as I accused you of being without all the facts. Perhaps we can forgive each other and start over.”
“I’d like that,” he said.
For a moment they just stared at each other. Then she bent her head. “Well, I should return to the party.”
“As you wish,” he said. “I’ll stay out on the terrace for a moment’s air. I’m pleased we could resolve our differences and can now become neutral acquaintances rather than enemies. Good evening, Miss Lockhart."
“Good evening, my lord,” she said, and wondered why her voice was suddenly rough. It must have been the autumn air, filled with dust from the falling leaves and smoke. She inclined her head and returned to the ball, feeling his gaze on her with every step.
And even though this conversation should have, in theory, made her feel better about everything, instead she felt something else. A vague discomfort, an odd misalignment, as if she no longer fit into her clothing or her skin anymore.
So even though she resolved not to be angry with him anymore, Clarissa still found herself looking forward to the moment when the Earl of Kirkwood would depart her presence and allow her to return to the person she was before she’d met him on her drive.
Roderick wasn’t certain how long he stayed out on the terrace. At least a few songs from the orchestra played as he looked out over the moonlight garden below. He’d offered to remain here to give Clarissa…Miss Lockhart, an opportunity to return without his interference or company. But the longer he remained outside, the more his mind turned.
He had created a life where he didn’t often brood. At least not about women he didn’t even know. And yet the conversation with her replayed in his head over and over again. Her expressions of emotion, ones she kept repressing, danced before him. She was a fascinating creature, somehow. One he didn’twantto be fascinated by.
He turned to go back to the ballroom and the terrace doors opened again. George stepped out, glanced over the terrace, and his expression lit up when he saw Roderick.
“There you are,” he said. “I thought you’d run off with some woman or something.”
Roderick almost snorted in response. He had done just that, he supposed, at least briefly. Though not the way his friend thought. “No,just getting some air,” he said, and stepped toward George. “I was just coming back in.”
“How are you enjoying yourself?” George asked as they reentered the hall with its crush of guests.
Miss Lockhart had asked the same thing a short time ago. For his friend, he gave a different answer. “It is much as you thought it would be. Not the worst country gathering I’ve been to, of course.” He cleared his throat. “I did manage to get a moment with your cousin.”
“With Clarissa?” George said in surprise. “I’m shocked you survived it. She glares daggers into you at every turn. Did you seduce a friend of hers or something?”
“That was my question, but it turns out it was exactly as I feared and warned you about upon our arrival. She was angry that I came uninvited. I thought, yet again, that you were going to clear the air about that with the family, but it’s obvious you didn’t.”
George pulled a face of playful guilt. “Ugh, yes, I suppose I was. I hope you blamed me entirely.”
“I did.” Roderick folded his arms. “I swear, you are terrible. You let the woman hate me for days.”
His friend’s brow wrinkled. “I suppose. But…why do you care?”
“What?”
“Why do you care? You don’t know my cousin, you’ll likely rarely encounter her. She’s too polite to spread nasty stories about you, for fear it would reflect poorly on her and her drive to be unfailingly well-mannered. She isn’t your type, and even if she were, she’s looking for marriage, not the sort of wickedly temporary arrangements you tend to make with ladies. Why would you care what she thinks of you?”
Roderick blinked. He’d spent so much time since his arrival being irritated with the woman, wanting to clear the air between them, he hadn’t actually ever asked himself that very good question. Whydidhe care what she thought of him?
“I don’t,” he said. “I just don’t like that I was blamed for somethingyou did.” He arched a playful brow. “This is exactly like school, you know.”
George laughed. “Very well, I am in the wrong, I know.Again. Great God, though, the idea that she tempted you…”
