he so offensively misunderstood her motives was deeply upsetting.
‘I won’t lie,’ he said gravely. ‘Miss Ravel’s situation did have some bearing on my request.’
‘Mr Montemorcy, you have treated me with contempt,’ Henri ground out. Her insides ached. Robert Montemorcy hadn’t trusted her enough to confide that his guests were expected up from London. He thought her so callous that she’d spread gossip or worse. And even now he kept the true reason for Miss Ravel being here hidden from her. ‘I deserved better than that.’
‘I had my reasons.’
‘And they are.?’ Henri asked in a low tone. ‘Is there anything I should know? I have no wish to make any more mistakes.’
‘That is Miss Ravel’s business and not mine to tell.’ A muscle jumped in his jaw and his face appeared more remote than ever. ‘I will not have her become the subject of common gossip. I made her late father a promise and I intend to keep it.’
Henri took a step backwards and felt the books dig into her back. Her throat became dry. He had given Miss Ravel’s father a deathbed promise. She’d rather thought her life was going to go on an even keel, but suddenly it was all change. She’d mistaken everything. Her blood fizzled. ‘And you don’t trust me with the truth. What are you afraid of, Montemorcy? What did you think I’d do? Shout the news from the top of the church steeple that you were about to be betrothed?’
‘Miss Ravel is the daughter of an old and dear friend, Lady Thorndike, and my ward.’ Robert attempted to contain his anger. How dare she stand there wearing a fierce expression and the ribbons of her bonnet trembling! His private life was private. And he certainly was not serving it up for her delectation, fetching bonnet or not. If he ever became betrothed, he certainly would not be informing Henrietta Thorndike first. Asking for her advice? The thought was unconscionable. ‘Please choose your words with care.’
Her blue eyes opened wide. ‘You have a ward? Why have you never divulged this information to me?’
‘There are many things you do not know about me, madam.’ Robert looked her up and down slowly, taking in the way her purple-and-white-checked day dress hugged her curves and then flared out into a full skirt. ‘We are neighbours, rather than intimate companions.’
Two bright spots appeared on her cheeks. ‘Having a ward is hardly a state secret.’
‘My business, no one else’s.’
‘But pertinent to our wager. The fact remains—you manoeuvred me into that wager so that you could protect your ward from what you considered to be my unwarranted inference! I have never interfered when I was unwanted, sir! A simple request would have sufficed!’
Various other library patrons turned around and Robert winced. The gossip that he’d quarrelled with Lady Thorndike would be around the village in a matter of minutes. And it would only add to the speculation about his visitors and their reason for abandoning London. He should turn on his heel and walk away, but he quickly rejected the notion. If the village would talk, he’d give them something infinitely more interesting to digest than the suspiciously sudden arrival of his ward.
He placed a hand on either side of her, trapping her against the bookcase. ‘I gave you the main reason at the wedding breakfast, madam. You are entirely too involved in your matchmaking schemes. You think of nothing beyond the next match. You dominate village social life with your musicales, picnics and dancing classes, which are all designed for one purpose: to facilitate matrimony, whether the parties involved are truly interested or not. Are you attempting to back out of our wager? You were so certain of victory. Do you wish to admit defeat?’
‘No, sir, I’m not ready. I am no faint heart.’
Rather than seeking to escape, she held her head high and her being radiated hurt dignity. A vague sense of admiration filled him. He leant forwards so his breath would brush her cheek. ‘I’m glad to hear it.’
‘You are behaving improperly, sir,’ she said as her breath came faster. ‘In a public place!’
‘Am I? How intriguing.’ He fastened his gaze on her full red lips. ‘Precisely what am I doing wrong, Lady Thorndike? Do tell. I wish to remedy my bad behaviour.’
The air between them crackled.
‘I hope your dancing shoes are polished and ready,’ she said with a husky note in her voice. ‘I expect a polka worthy of the name after your underhanded behaviour.’
‘My dancing shoes are in my wardrobe where they will remain. You will be unable to resist temptation, Lady Thorndike. We both know it. Admit defeat now and have done with it.’ He leant forwards so that their foreheads nearly touched. Her lips were softly parted and he could see the pulse beating in the hollow of her throat. Silently he willed her to lean forwards and complete the tableau. ‘Miss Ravel’s visit is sudden. Her story is not mine to tell. But I promise you, if you attempt to ensnare my ward in any of your matchmaking schemes, you will regret it.’
Henri lifted his arm away from the bookcase as her eyes blazed defiantly. ‘I have done nothing to facilitate or suggest any such match. Nor do I intend doing so in the near future,’ she said in a furious undertone. ‘You should have confided in me, instead of attempting this flim-flam nonsense of a wager to curb my behaviour. My behaviour, sir, has been exemplary in the extreme.’
Robert counted to ten and breathed deeply as the whispers grew in the library. The gossip would now centre on Lady Thorndike rather than on his ward. But he had not one twinge of regret. His ward’s already fragile reputation needed protecting, which wouldn’t happen if Lady Thorndike could not resist meddling. And the only way he could think of to ensure that had been the—deliberately provocative, he’d happily admit it—wager. ‘You have several weeks to go. Temptation will get the better of you, Lady Thorndike. It always does.’
Henrietta Thorndike opened and closed her mouth several times, before twitching her skirts away from him. ‘Good day, Mr Montemorcy. I believe we have entirely fallen out of civility with each other.’
‘Were we ever in civility?’ he murmured, his hand skimming her arm. ‘Pray tell me when.’
‘I have certainly tried to be polite, but I now see politeness is beyond you,’ she snapped.
‘Lady Thorndike, people are starting to stare. You are in danger of becoming remarked on.’
‘Let them. This is a war of your making. I am through with being polite. Ponder on that.’ She marched away, her purple-and-white gown swinging to reveal her shapely ankles.
Robert slammed his fists together as red hot blood rushed through his veins. Was there ever such an obstinate woman as Henrietta Thorndike?
Henri pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath, attempting to calm down after her run-in with Montemorcy. She hadn’t been this angry in a long time. Serenity and a happy outlook on life were what she strove for, but really what she wanted was to run Robert Montemorcy through with a skewer. He’d tricked her into this idiotic and offensive wager. And now there was the problem of how his ward might fit into the delicate fabric of Corbridge social life.
She took a deep breath and twitched the folds of her dress so that they hung straighter.
When she was done, he’d be the one who was discomforted. He would be dancing the polka
