“Dara, my yarn,” her sister protested.
“Oh, did I tangle it up? I’m sorry. Gwendolyn, please sit so Mr. Brogan will take a chair.”
“He had a seat next to me,” Elise grumbled.
Dara’s answer was a benign smile.
Mr. Brogan caught the hint. His gaze met Dara’s as he gave a courtly bow. “Please, be comfortable, Miss Lanscarr. I must take my leave.”
Elise started to rise, even with her lap full of wool. “Let me see you to the door—”
“I can see him out,” Dara interrupted, already on her feet. She placed a hand on her sister’sshoulder to push her back down. “You should see to your yarn.” She started for the front hall, expecting him to follow.
He took a few moments, offering his goodbyes to Tweedie and Gwendolyn. He was particularly charming to Elise. “I promise to return, and we will work on your next skein.”
Elise simpered her delight, and it took all of Dara’s self-control to not roll her eyes in annoyance. She was waiting for him out in the front hall by the door. She offered him his hat, which had been on a side table.
“We appreciated your call, sir,” she said loudly enough for her family to hear in the other room, before adding her true feelings in a low undervoice,“I thought I was very clear with youlast night.You are not suitable.”
His gaze narrowed. He took the hat. “Thank you for seeing me out, Miss Dara.” And then he added, matching her intense, quiet tone,“You are not the one who makes all the decisions,especially for matters of the heart.”
Matters of the heart?
Oh, no, that could not be, and then she realized he was toying with her. He was no lovesick suitor. He’d been in control of his emotions every second he had been in the sitting room with Elise.
He’d visited to let Dara know that her wishes held no sway with him. What a scoundrel. What a politician!
She reached for the door handle, smiling with clenched teeth as she said,“You of all gentlemen know Irish women. We don’t like to be crossed.”She raised her voice. “I’m certain we shall see each other at many of the Season’s social events.” She didn’t invite him to return.
He set his hat on his head, tipping it at a rakish angle to give a bit of “devil-may-care” to his look. Was that intentional? Of course.
“I’m certain we shall,” he responded genially before adding,“Ruffling their feathers is the fun of Irish women. You are making this too entertaining, Miss Dara.”
She wished she had stomped on his hat before handing it to him.
Dara opened the door. “Good day to you, sir.”
“And to you.” He took his leave.
She returned to the sitting room. Elise was fussing with the wool and tangling it up all the more. Gwendolyn was attempting to calm her. “We have rules for a reason—” Dara started.
Elise cut her off. “You chased him away. He hadn’t been here that long.”
Dara feigned ignorance. “Chased him away? What are you talking about?”
“Mr. Brogan left because you made him feel unwelcome.”
Dara shrugged. “You are being fanciful. He is a busy man. So busy I doubt if we shall see him often.”
Elise stood, tossing the yarn into a basket. “You don’t wish me to see him.”
“Now, why would you think that?” Had he said something? That would be quite low of Mr. Brogan.
“Because, Dara,” Elise answered, “you all but knocked me out of the way when Mr. Brogan asked me—yes, it wasmehe was asking—to dance at the Royston ball. And then the two of you disappeared after the set.”
“We wondered where you were,” her older sister confirmed.
Because they hadn’t said anything, Dara had not thought they’d noticed. “I had need of the Necessary Room.” There was truth in her statement.
