Her face was turning an alarming shade of red. Perhaps he’d gone a step too far. “I’m not accusing you of a thing, aside from being bad at matchmaking, Miss Templeton.”
“If you object so strenuously to my presence here, Lord Fairmont, you might have made your aunt aware of it before I came to London for the season.”
“If I’d had the faintest idea you were coming, I would have. But it’s too late now. You’re here, and the damage is, unfortunately, already done. Still, I wish to make one thing clear to you, Miss Templeton.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m listening, my lord.”
“Under no circumstances will I permit you to meddle in my sister’s marriage prospects. She doesn’t need amatchmakerany longer, Miss Templeton. As her brother, I am the proper person to manage her affairs.”
For an instant, she didn’t react, but then, incredibly, she laughed.
Laughed,athim. “I fail to see what’s so amusing, Miss Templeton.”
“Why, your arrogance, my lord. If you imagine anyone other than Harriett will decide whom she marries, then I’m afraid you’re in for a rather unpleasant surprise.”
“Be that as it may, Harriett is no longer your concern.”
He took care to use his coldest voice, the one that made even the most arrogant of gentlemen blanch, but she didn’t even seem to notice it. The timid little mouse had more of a backbone than he’d thought.
“Very well, my lord. Have you said all you wished to say?”
“Very well? That’s it? No arguments? No protestations that Harriett can’t possibly make an advantageous match without London’s most celebrated matchmaker at her side?”
She raised an eyebrow. “You almost sound disappointed.”
“Skeptical, perhaps.” He didn’t care for that stubborn little pinch at the corners of her lips, as if she knew something he didn’t.
“Would you feel better if I argued with you, my lord? Stamped my feet and shook my fists?”
“I’d prefer you didn’t. I abhor theatrics.”
“Then I wish you luck this season, my lord.” She smiled, her pink lips curling into something positively diabolical. With that, she rose from the bench, offered him a curtsey, and hurried off down the footpath, vanishing around the corner of the house and leaving him gaping after her, like a proper fool.
But surely, he’d made himself clear?
Yes, certainly he had. Miss Templeton couldn’t possibly have misunderstood him.
Why, then, did he have the uneasy feeling that she’d just put him in his place?
“Theatrics! He abhors theatrics, he says.”Phee stomped around the corner, sucking in a deep breath once she was out of Lord Fairmont’s sight. “He’ll have a merry time of it this season, then!”
That thought should have cheered her up, but her blood was boiling, and her fists were so tight that her fingers were going numb. She wasn’t quick to anger, but it hadn’t taken more than a dozen words for Lord Fairmont to set her temper alight.
“Bad at matchmaking, indeed!” She slumped against the side of the house, still panting with fury. “Meddle in Harriett’s marriage prospects!Meddle, he says!”
Lord Fairmont was in for an unpleasant surprise, because if she hadn’tquitemade up her mind to help Harriett in her quest for true love, then she’d certainly made it upnow.
What did hemean, accusing her of cheating Lady Fosberry, and warning her away from Harriett? Why, the man had as good as ordered her to leave London!
Yes, it was unfortunate what had happened last season— very unfortunate, indeed. No one denied that, but he’d laid the entire blame for it squarely on her shoulders.
Surely, that was unfair of him?
No one in London had the vaguest notion that Lord Wyle was hiding such enormous debts. If the worst of the gossips didn’t know of his circumstance, then how was she expected to have known of it? Lord Wyle had been last season’s Nonesuch, for goodness’ sake! A paragon of virtue, a man of spotless reputation, and goodness knew he’d played the gallant gentleman to perfection. Why, he even looked the part!
How could she have known a devil lurked behind those angelic blue eyes? Did Lord Fairmont imagine she was some sort of mystic, who could see what others couldn’t? Despite what thetonsaid, she was no sorceress.
If ever a man deserved a set down, it was Lord Fairmont. How humbling to find that the sweet, tender interlude she’d witnessed between Harriett and Gilly in the music room was less an inducement to meddle in Harriett’s matrimonial affairs than her thirst to teach Lord Fairmont a lesson was.
