George leaned in closer. “So am I. And you like me.”
She laughed. “I tolerate you, George. Barely.”
He snorted out his own laugh, loud enough that others looked at them. “I deserve that. It was my fault, though, Clarissa. And I actually think you wouldn’t hate my friend if you gave him a chance and got to know him.”
She’d decided last night to try not to hate Kirkwood, but the ideashe would get to know him settled oddly in her chest. “You want me to know him?”
He nodded. “I do.”
“Why does it matter to you?”
For a moment George looked off into the crowd and she followed his gaze. He was looking at Kirkwood, who was standing across the way talking to Mrs. Vale. For a moment Clarissa narrowed her gaze at the sight, but then forced herself to stop.
“He’s one of my best friends,” George said. “And you are my favorite cousin. I wouldn’t hate it if you two had a truce so that I could talk to both of you without having to run interference to keep you from coming to blows.”
She laughed again at the idea of fisticuffs with the earl. She might have judged him as rude, but she couldn’t picture him doing so. And he was enormous at any rate, far bigger than she was. She’d have to rise up on her tippy toes just to land a blow. Well, perhaps that was going too far.
She let her laughter trail off as Kirkwood looked at her. He stiffened a fraction, but then he smiled and inclined his head. “Very well. I agree to the truce. And if the opportunity arises I will,reluctantly, get to know the man. I assume we’ll have nothing in common.” She thought of what he’d said aboutOthelloearlier and shook her head. “Or at least very little. But I’ll try for you.”
“Thank you, Clarissa,” George said, and patted her hand. “Now I see your father weaving his way over, likely ready to give you a thousand suggestions on how to land yourself anancientmarquess and give him a son.”
“Ugh,” Clarissa said with a giggle she couldn’t repress, etiquette rules or no. “That is crude.”
“Do you want me to save you by sweeping you over there or not?” He pointed toward the far end of the veranda.
“Yes, please!” she admitted, and rose with him, took his arm and let him take her away just as he’d suggested. But she couldn’t help but look over her shoulder, not toward her father, but in the direction ofKirkwood. He’d stepped away from Mrs. Vale now and leaned against the terrace wall, one ankle crossed over another as he surveyed the rest of the party with casual elegance and perfected disinterest.
They would only be forced into a shared space for a limited time. If her cousin wanted her to try to like the man, she could do that. It didn’t mean anything anyway.
Roderick didn’t know what to think of the fact that Miss Lockhart wassmilingat him as he and the other gentlemen entered the parlor after supper. She’d actually been doing that all day, ever since the earlier tea on the veranda.
He had decided she was either trying to make up for her initial misunderstanding, or she was plotting to poison him. He wasn’t sure which one he believed more. He could see her doing either. Or both? She seemed interesting enough for that.
He pursed his lips at the errant thought just as she started across the parlor toward him.
“My lord,” she said as she reached him.
“Miss Lockhart,” he said with caution.
“How did you find my father’s port?” she asked. “That is what you gentleman do when you part from the ladies, isn’t it? Drink port and bluster?”
He hesitated before he said, “The port was very fine, yes. But there was little bluster this evening, instead we played billiards. I lost, but I enjoyed myself. I assume the ladies did…whatever it is ladies do when they find themselves relieved by the absence of men.”
She smiled a little at his choice of phrase and he thought it might actually be a real expression. “It truly varies with the company and we swear an oath never to tell, you know. However, I can reveal to you that this group mostly gossiped about next Season’s fashion in hats.” She seemed to stifle a sigh.
“And did you come to a consensus about what will change?”
“More feathers,” she whispered. “Do not tell a soul.”
He laughed. “I’ll be silent as the grave, I promise you.”
Their shared laughter trailed off and her cheeks pinkened as she looked away from him and into the crowd. “I’m sure there will be parlor games in a moment. Do you have any favorites?”
He was utterly confused. She was interviewing him as if she intended to hire him for some duty. “It’s the wrong time of year, but snapdragon is always a laugh.”
She let out the faintest snort and shook her head. “That makes perfect sense.”
“And what doesthatmean?”
