He deliberately flexed his fingers, tamping down the rising tension inside him, and turned to Miss Howard. Her lips were set in a firm line and although the edges were drawn up as if in a smile, he wasn’t fooled. Something was bothering her, though he wasn’t sure what.
Perhaps the invitation?
He prepared to offer their regrets when she accepted with a nod and a hastily spoken, “Thank you. That sounds lovely.”
“Would Friday evening at six suit you?” the young lady asked, her eagerness to entertain them bubbling around her words.
Miss Howard’s smile stretched in a way that caused Griffin to wince with discomfort. “Yes,” she said. “We look forward to it already.” They parted ways, with Miss Howard and Griffin continuing toward the inn where they had initially agreed to meet.
After going a few paces, Miss Howard glanced over her shoulder before quietly saying, “I’m sorry, but I could think of no reasonable way in which to tell you that the lady and gentleman with whom we were speaking just now were Mr. David Partridge and his sister, Miss Amanda Partridge.”
“His interest in you was very apparent,” Griffin said, not liking the clipped undertone sharpening his words.
“I could say the same of the attention Miss Partridge paid you. It was highly inappropriate, considering she believes you to be a married man.”
The tightness in Miss Howard’s voice gave Griffin pause. It struck a chord with which he could all too easily relate, and while he liked the idea of her getting slightly jealous, he did not want to believe that he might be susceptible to such an emotion himself.
Discomforted by this line of thinking, Griffin chose to circle back to the subject of Miss Howard and Mr. Partridge. “Perhaps you ought to flirt with him a little.”
Where the hell did that suggestion come from?
Even as he said it, he felt his nerves pinch together tightly with displeasure.
“I beg your pardon?”
Begging his pardon was right, but for some unfathomable reason, Griffin’s mouth had detached itself from his brain. “If you wish to marry…”shut up, you fool“…I daresay you could do worse.” Oh hell. He knew he’d jammed his entire boot down his throat when he heard her sharp inhalation. When he realized she’d ceased walking, he stopped and turned hesitantly toward her, only to curse himself for the cad that he was.
Indignation burned in her eyes, brighter than the pain which she failed to hide from him completely. But she did tilt her chin and she did square her shoulders, for which he could only applaud her. And then she stepped toward him and for some peculiar reason, he felt like a small boy about to be soundly told off. He wasn’t completely wrong to feel that way, he realized, for the words she spoke next made him feel half as tall as he actually was and less of the man he wanted to be.
“The fact that I might want to experience kissing does not mean I long to get married. I do not sit about pining for a husband, nor do I think of each man that I meet as a potential match.” She inhaled deeply. “I certainly never considered you in that way, and we have done more than exchange a few words with each other.”
Griffin blinked. “But you kissed me.”
She glanced up at the sky, and he realized in that instant that he was about to feel even smaller than he already did. “Actually, if you will recall, you kissed me. My intention was to share my first kiss with Mr. Bale. And so I probably would have if you hadn’t chosen to interfere.”
“I only did what I thought was right,” Griffin said. The memory of how she’d looked together with Mr. Bale made his teeth gnash in annoyance. “And when I realized what I’d done, I did what I could in order to fix it.”
“By providing me with the sort of demonstration that even a nun would find boring.”
Christ!
Griffin straightened his spine. His pride was taking a beating, and it was high time for it to stop. “Anything else would have been both ungentlemanly and unforgiveable.” What he would not tell her was that he’d been sorely tempted to give her precisely the sort of kiss she craved.
She closed her eyes briefly and pushed out a breath. “Quite so.” A nod followed as if to underscore her approval of her own statement, and then she continued walking.
Griffin stared after her for a second before hurrying to catch up. “What do you mean by that?”
They passed the inn and continued toward the road leading back to Clearview. She shrugged. “It no longer matters.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Absolutely.”
Griffin didn’t believe her, but since he did not feel like arguing any more, he let the matter rest. Instead, he told her of the paint and the brushes he’d bought. Everything would be delivered the next morning, and as they walked home, he decided that painting the rooms at Clearview would not only help explain his presence, but would also offer the perfect distraction from Miss Howard and all the tumultuous feelings she stirred in him.
Flirt with Mr. Partridge.
Thatwas Lord Griffin’s suggestion?
