A silent communication passed not only between Elise and Gwendolyn, but also Tweedie. They knew her too well.
So she admitted, “He isn’t good for you, Elise.”
“Why do you say that?”
Because I believe he is trifling with your feelings, that he is playing a game of annoying me... and I, too, am attracted to him—
She kept all of those thoughts to herself. Elise wouldn’t understand her fears, because Dara was always the watchful one. “I believe you can do better.”
Elise pointed a finger at her sister. “I will make my own decisions.”
“Of course,” Dara agreed serenely, while mentally chalking another black mark against Mr. Brogan’s name. “And you have many suitors to choose from.” Which was true.
Unfortunately, the next day, in spite of Dara’s admonishments, Mr. Brogan joined the line of suitors who cooled their heels outside the Willow Street door. It was almost as if it amused him to do so.
He knew Dara couldn’t shut him out, not in such a public forum. He acted as if he enjoyed himself. He chomped on Cook’s bread-and-butter sandwiches and listened to the “poets” spout their nonsense. When Lord Painswick wrote a poem comparing Dara’s hair to a brown night highlighted by golden stars, Mr. Brogan clapped enthusiastically.
“Damn clever,” Mr. Brogan declared. “A brown night.” He grinned at Dara while Lord Painswick preened over receiving praise for his work.
And she had to say it. She didn’t want to say it, except she couldn’t help herself. When she found a passing moment alone with Mr. Brogan, she said, “Nights are not brown.”
He grinned with fiendish delight as if he’d been expecting her to criticize his taste. “Only theunromantic ones.” He considered a second and then added, “The poem seems fitting.”
Her response was to bring her heel down hardon the toe of his boot and smile as he tried to muffle a woof of pain.
In truth, there was very little Dara could do to prevent him from calling on them.
And sometimes, she wondered if she wished to stop him. She felt more alive when she was around him. They all did, even Tweedie.
Mr. Brogan occasionally joined the sisters and their bevy of suitors for walks through the park. Often, he would make a point of falling into step next to Dara. Her sisters believed he was being gallant and trying to win her over for Elise’s sake. If they could hear what she and Mr. Brogan hissed at each other under their breaths, they would change their opinion.
“Would you please leave me alone, Mr. Brogan? You do not need to walk with me.”
“I’m a gentleman. I should be generous in my attentions. Isn’t that what your rules say?”
“My rules?”
“Your youngest sister said you made a list of important rules so that you all could be proper.”
Dara made a mental note to tell Elise to never mention her name when speaking to Mr. Brogan.
“My rules say nothing about your need to annoy me.”
“Come, MissLanscarr, we annoy each other. But then, I annoy you just by being in your presence.”
“That is not true. You annoy me because youare full of your own consequence without regard to others.”
“Nonsense, fair lady whose-hair-is-brown-as-the-night”—Yes, he used that phrase with her every chance he could—“You are annoyed because you can’t have your way.”
That last statement was so true it made Dara want to spit with anger. Instead, she whispered sweetly,“You are an ogre, Mr. Brogan.”
It didn’t help that he laughed off her insults. The sound of his very male laughter made her sisters exchange indulgent smiles, as if they were pleased he was winning her over.
The man was a demon—and he stood head and shoulders above all of their suitors.
At night, in their shared room, during those moments when they first climbed into bed, Dara tried to moderate Elise’s infatuation with Mr. Brogan by praising her other callers. She pointed out their strengths... and tsked over Mr. Brogan’s shortcomings, which were, admittedly, hard to find. But she identified some. After all, he was male.
Elise just shook her head and, as time passed, seemed to become even more intent on pursuing Mr. Brogan—which was not the direction Dara wished for her to go. So Dara stopped talking about him. Her little sister was coming into her own, and Dara’s suggestions and wishes were no longer carrying much weight.
