"Stop!" she burst out.
He did. Quirked a brow, even.
"If you must know," she said, her voice clipped with fury, "there were fourteen men who became engaged to be married in 1821."
There was a very long pause. Hugh was not an unintelligent man, but he had no idea what this had to do with anything. "Did all fourteen men become married?" he asked politely.
She stared at him.
"You said fourteen became engaged to be married."
"It doesn"t matter."
"It does to them, I would imagine."
He"d thought they were done with histrionics, but Lady Sarah let out a cry of frustration. "You don"t understand anything!"
"Oh, for the love of-"
"Do you have any idea of what you"ve done?" she demanded. "While you sit in your comfortable home, all cozy in London-"
"Shut up," he said, only he had no idea if he"d said it aloud. He just wanted her to stop. Stop talking, stop arguing, stop everything.
But instead she stepped forward and, with a venomous glare, demanded, "Do you know many lives you have ruined?"
He took a breath. Air, he needed air. He did not need to listen to this. Not from her. He knew precisely how many lives he"d ruined, and hers was not one of them.
But she would not let up. "Have you no conscience?" she hissed.
And finally, he snapped. Without a thought to his leg, he stepped forward until they were close enough for her to feel the heat of his breath. He backed her against the wall, trapping her with nothing but the fury of his presence. "You do not know me," he bit off. "You do not know what I think or what I feel or what measure of h.e.l.l I visit each and every day of my life. And the next time you feel so wronged-you, who do not even bear the same surname as Lord Winstead-you would do well to remember that one of the lives I have ruined is my own."
And then he stepped away. "Good night," he said, as pleasantly as a summer day.
For a moment he thought they might finally be done, but then she said the one thing that could redeem her.
"They are my family."
He closed his eyes.
"They are my family," she said in a choked voice, "and you have hurt them beyond repair. For that, I can never forgive you."
"Neither," he said, his words for his ears alone, "can I."
Chapter Four.
Back at Fensmore In the drawing room with Honoria, Sarah, Harriet, Elizabeth, Frances, and Lord Hugh Right where we left off . . .
It was a rare moment when silence fell on a gathering of Smythe-Smith cousins, but that was exactly what happened after Lord Hugh gave a polite bow and exited the drawing room.
The five of them-the four Pleinsworth sisters and Honoria-remained mute for several seconds, glancing at each other as they waited for a suitable amount of time to pa.s.s.
You could almost hear them all counting, Sarah thought, and indeed, as soon as she reached ten in her own head, Elizabeth announced, "Well that wasn"t very subtle."
Honoria turned. "What do you mean?"
"You are trying to make a match of Sarah and Lord Hugh, aren"t you?"
"Of course not!" Honoria exclaimed, but Sarah"s negative howl was considerably louder.
"Oh, but you should!" Frances said with a delighted clap of her hands. "I like Lord Hugh very much. It"s true that he can be a little eccentric, but he"s terribly clever. And he"s a very good shot."
All eyes swung back to Frances. "He shot Cousin Daniel in the shoulder," Sarah reminded her.
"He"s a very good shot when he"s sober," Frances clarified. "Daniel said so."
"I cannot begin to imagine the conversation that revealed such a fact," Honoria said, "nor do I wish to, this close to the wedding." She turned resolutely back to Sarah. "I have a favor to ask of you."
"Please say it does not involve Hugh Prentice."
"It involves Hugh Prentice," Honoria confirmed. "I need your help."
Sarah made a great show of sighing. She was going to have to do whatever Honoria asked; they both knew that. But even if Sarah had to go down without a fight, she was not going to do so without a complaint.
"I am very much afraid that he will not feel welcome at Fensmore," Honoria said.
Sarah could find nothing objectionable about that statement; if Hugh Prentice did not feel welcome, it was hardly her problem and nothing more than he deserved. But she could be diplomatic when the occasion warranted, so she remarked, "I think it is much more likely he will isolate himself. He"s not very friendly."
"I find it more likely that he"s shy," Honoria said.
Harriet, still seated at the desk, gasped with delight. "A brooding hero. The very best kind! I shall write him into my play!"
"The one with the unicorn?" Frances asked.
"No, the one I"ve just thought of this afternoon." Harriet pointed the feather end of her quill toward Sarah. "With the heroine who is not too pink or green."
"He shot your cousin," Sarah snapped, whipping around to face her younger sister. "Does no one remember that?"
"It was such a long time ago," Harriet said.
"And I think he"s sorry," Frances declared.
"Frances, you are eleven," Sarah said sharply. "You are hardly able to judge a man"s character."
Frances"s eyes slitted. "I can judge yours."
Sarah looked from sister to sister, then back at Honoria. Did no one realize what an awful person Lord Hugh was? Forget for the moment (as if one could) that he had nearly destroyed their family. He was horrid. One had only to speak with him for two minutes before- "He does often seem uncomfortable at gatherings," Honoria admitted, breaking into Sarah"s inner rant, "but that is all the more reason for us to go out of our way to make him feel welcome. I-" Honoria cut herself off, looked about the room, took in Harriet, Elizabeth, and Frances, all watching her with great and unconcealed interest, and said, "Excuse me, please." She took Sarah"s arm and steered her out of the drawing room, down the hall, and into another drawing room.
"Am I to be Hugh Prentice"s nanny?" Sarah demanded once Honoria had closed the door.
"Of course not. But I am asking you to make sure that he feels a part of the festivities. Perhaps this evening, in the drawing room before supper," Honoria suggested.
Sarah groaned.
"He"s likely to be off in a corner, standing by himself."
"Perhaps he likes it that way."
"You"re so good at talking to people," Honoria said. "You always know what to say."
"Not to him."
"You don"t even know him," Honoria said. "How terrible could it be?"
"Of course I"ve met him. I don"t think there is anyone left in London I haven"t met." Sarah considered this, then muttered, "Pathetic though that seems."
"I didn"t say you hadn"t met him, I said you do not know him," Honoria corrected. "There is quite a difference."
"Very well," Sarah said, somewhat grudgingly. "If you wish to split hairs."
Honoria just tilted her head, forcing Sarah to keep talking.
"I don"t know him," Sarah said, "but what I"ve met of him, I don"t particularly like. I have tried to be amiable during these last few months."
Honoria gave her a most disbelieving look.
"I have!" Sarah protested. "I wouldn"t say I"ve tried very hard, but I must tell you, Honoria, the man is not a sparkling conversationalist."
Now Honoria looked as if she might laugh, which only fueled Sarah"s irritation.
"I have tried to speak with him," Sarah ground out, "because that is what people do at social functions. But he never replies how he ought."
"How he ought?" Honoria echoed.
"He makes me uncomfortable," Sarah said with a sniff. "And I"m fairly certain he does not like me."
"Don"t be silly," Honoria said. "Everyone likes you."
"No," Sarah said, quite frankly, "everyone likes you. I, on the other hand, lack your kind and pure heart."
"What are you talking about?"
"Merely that while you look for the best in everyone, I take a more cynical view of the world. And I . . ." She paused. How to say it? "There are people in this world who find me quite annoying."
"That"s not true," Honoria said. But it was an automatic reply. Sarah was quite sure that given more time to consider the statement, Honoria would realize that it was quite true.
Although she would have said the same thing anyway. Honoria was marvelously loyal that way.
"It is true," Sarah said, "and it does not bother me. Well, not very much, anyway. It certainly does not bother me about Lord Hugh, given that I return the sentiment in spades."
Honoria took a moment to wade through Sarah"s words, then rolled her eyes. Not very much, but Sarah knew her too well to miss the gesture. It was the closest her kind and gentle cousin ever came to a screaming fit.
"I think you should give him a chance," Honoria said. "You"ve never even had a proper conversation with him."
There had been nothing proper about it, Sarah thought darkly. They had nearly come to blows. And she certainly hadn"t known what to say to him. She felt ill every time she recalled their meeting at the Dunwoody engagement fte. She"d done nothing but spout cliches. She might have even stamped her foot. He probably thought her an utter imbecile, and the truth was, she rather thought she"d acted like one.
Not that she cared what he thought of her. That would ascribe far too much importance to his opinion. But in that awful moment in the Dunwoody library-and in the few brief words they"d exchanged since-Hugh Prentice had reduced her to someone she didn"t much like.
And that was unforgivable.
"It"s not up to me to say who you will or will not get on with," Honoria continued after it became clear that Sarah was not going to comment, "but I"m sure you can find the strength to endure Lord Hugh"s company for one day."
"Sarcasm becomes you," Sarah said suspiciously. "When did that happen?"
Honoria smiled. "I knew I could depend upon you."
"Indeed," Sarah muttered.
"He"s not so dreadful," Honoria said, patting her on the arm. "I think he"s rather handsome, actually."
"It doesn"t matter if he"s handsome."
Honoria leapt on that. "So you think he is handsome."
"I think he"s quite strange," Sarah shot back, "and if you are trying to play matchmaker . . ."
"I"m not!" Honoria held up her arms in mock surrender. "I swear it. I was merely making an observation. I think he has very nice eyes."
"I"d like him better if he had a vestigial toe," Sarah muttered. Maybe she should write a book.
"A vestigial-what?"
"Yes, his eyes are perfectly nice," Sarah said obediently. It was true, she supposed. He did have very nice eyes, green as gra.s.s, and piercingly intelligent. But nice eyes did not a future husband make. And no, she did not view every single man through the lens of eligibility-well, not very much, and certainly not him-but it was clear that despite her protestations, Honoria was casting her thoughts in that direction.
"I will do this for you," Sarah said, "because you know I would do anything for you. Which means I would throw myself in front of a moving carriage if it came to that." She paused, giving Honoria time to absorb that before continuing with a grand sweep of her arm. "And if I would throw myself in front of a moving carriage, it stands to reason that I would also consent to an activity that does not require the taking of my own life."
Honoria looked at her blankly.
"Such as sitting next to Lord Hugh Prentice at your wedding breakfast."
It took Honoria a moment to take that in. "How very . . . logical."
"And by the way, it"s two days I must suffer his company, not one." She wrinkled her nose. "Just to be clear."